“Good?” he asked her.
LaLa eyes were so hooded with lust that they were nearly closed. “Perfect,” she replied.
And that was what Crader needed to hear. He kissed her, pleased that he could please her. And then pulled out.
After carrying her to the bathroom, and cleaning them both up, they eventually returned to the kitchen. But they returned just as Maurice, their Estate Manager, was entering the kitchen. “Excuse me, sir and ma’am,” he said as he entered, and LaLa and Crader both looked at him.
“Yes, Maurice?” Crader responded.
“The President and Mrs. Harber are arriving, sir,” he said.
Crader thanked him, and then he and LaLa, smiling at their close call, hurried for the front door to welcome their special guests.
The cavalcade of SUVs had already come through the gates of the McKenzie estate and was making their way toward the front entrance. Crader and LaLa were standing there, ready to greet them, with Little Nicole running out of the house at the last second, and her father swooping her up into his arms. The Nanny came out behind her, but it was too late. She had been waiting all week for Walt. She could hardly contain her joy.
“There’s Nikki!” Little Walt said inside the SUV when he saw his playmate run out of the house. “That’s Nikki, Mommy!”
Gina smiled too. “Yes, it is,” she said, looking at the waiting family. “She’s as happy to see you as you are to see her.”
And as soon as Mitchell stepped out of the passenger side of the SUV and opened the back door, Walt took off for his playmate. By the time Dutch and Gina made it out of the vehicle, the children were embracing.
“Inseparable,” Crader said of the two children as he hugged and kissed Dutch, and then he hugged and kissed Gina. “How’s my favorite couple?” he asked them.
“Glad to be on Ruth Island,” Gina said. “How are you?”
“Exhausted,” Crader said and Dutch laughed.
“You don’t have to tell us,” Gina said.
“If I would have known being president sucked this much I would have never agreed to take over.”
“It can’t be that bad, Cray,” Gina said. “I heard you may run for reelection.”
“It’s the power,” Crader said and Gina laughed. “Don’t get it twisted. It’s the power I’m after.”
“Don’t listen to him,” LaLa said as she and Gina hugged and kissed. “He love the job too. It suits him.”
“Don’t it, though?” Gina agreed. Then she added: “Mrs. First Lady.”
“Oh, go on,” LaLa said cheerfully. “I’m with Crader on that part. Being First Lady sucks too.”
“But you have been impressive, La,” Gina said. “They can’t take that away from you.”
“They couldn’t take it away from you, but they tried.”
Gina laughed. “You know you’re right.”
Then LaLa moved over to Dutch, and he hugged her and kissed her on the lips. When they parted, she smiled. “How you doing?” she asked like Wendy Williams.
“I’m doing well,” Dutch said. “You look beautiful, Loretta. Being First Lady agrees with you beautifully.”
LaLa felt her heart soar. Dutch was always her gold standard. She loved any compliment he gave to her.
Crader knew it too, and a twinge of jealousy rose up within him. For some reason he always managed to forget to compliment his wife, and Dutch never did. “Come on inside you guys,” Crader said, and they all headed in.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After a big dinner of short ribs and collard greens and mac and cheese, the children ran to the playroom, with the nannies responsible for each one right on their heels. The adults, stuffed and satisfied, settled into the Florida Room. Everybody was drinking wine, except LaLa, who preferred simply tea. She was just so overjoyed to see her old friends again.
“It seems like it’s been forever,” she said, “when it hasn’t been that long at all.” She was seated in the wingback chair that flanked the sofa, with Crader seated on its arm. Dutch and Gina sat side by side on the sofa, both leaned back and slouched against each other.
“So, good people, how have the DC press been treating you?” Gina asked with a smile on her face. “From your perspective I mean.”
“Just wonderful, darling,” LaLa said facetiously, and Dutch and Gina laughed. “Just awful,” LaLa said more truthfully. “They say I’m not as polished a First Lady as you were,” she added.
Gina waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t you believe it,” she said. “Those same reporters used to call me, not First Lady, but Ghetto Lady. Remember that? Now I’m the polished one? Please.”
“What Gina is trying to say,” Dutch said, “is that the press will turn on you at the drop of a hat. Today they hate you, tomorrow they love you. The day after that they hate you again. Ignore it all, every bit of it, is our advice.”
“Good advice,” Crader said. “I try to tell La to not let it bother her. But it does anyway.”
“It’s not that it bothers me,” LaLa said. “It’s just that it . . . bothers me.” They all laughed. Then Maurice appeared again.
“Excuse me, Mr. President,” he said, and both Dutch and Crader turned his way. “President McKenzie, that is,” he corrected himself.
They all laughed.
“Yes, Mo?” Crader asked. “What is it?”
“Your Defense Secretary is on the telephone, sir.”
“Did you tell him I had company? Specifically, President Harber?”
“He was told, sir, yes, sir.”
“And he still needs to speak to me?”
“That he does, sir.”
Crader exhaled. “I’d better take it then,” he said to his guests. “Hold the fun until I get back,” Crader added and then left the room.
“In the meantime,” Gina said to LaLa, rising to her feet, “we’d better get those kids of ours to bed.”
“It is late, isn’t it?”
“Well pass their bedtimes, that’s for sure,” Gina replied.
“What about you, Dutch?” LaLa asked him. “Will you be okay?”
“You’d better not baby that man,” Gina said, grabbing her arm. “Of course he’ll be okay!”
Dutch laughed as he stood up. “Thank-you for your concern, Loretta. At least somebody’s thinking about me.” He and Gina exchanged an affectionate smile. “But yes, I’ll be fine,” he said, placing his drink on the coffee table. “I’ll go for a walk around the grounds.”
“Sounds good.”
Gina smiled. “Don’t get lost,” she said to her husband as she and LaLa headed for the stairs. Dutch headed for the exit.
Once the children were asleep in bed, Gina and LaLa began heading back downstairs. But Gina pulled her aside.
“What’s wrong, La?” she asked her.
LaLa attempted to smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong, La?” Gina asked again, refusing to take nothing for an answer. “Please don’t tell me Crader’s acting a fool again.”
“He’s not. That’s not it at all. He’s been faithful.”
“But?”
LaLa exhaled. “But nothing. It’s just been hectic.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“And Crader’s thinking about running for a full term.”
Gina studied her. “You don’t want that?”
“For him? Yes. I think he’s a fine president. But for me?”
“No?”
“I honestly don’t know. It’s so much scrutiny!”
“I know,” Gina said, taking her friend by the arm and continuing to walk with her downstairs. “But you didn’t marry an ordinary man. Don’t expect him to be content with ordinary.” Then she looked at her friend. “That includes in the bedroom, La.”
LaLa laughed. “You don’t have to tell me that! But I’ll bet Dutch doesn’t work you the way Crader works me.”
Gina looked sidelong at her friend. “Are you on dope?” she asked, and LaLa laughed. “Dutch have that t
hing up my ass so much I can’t walk half the time! He doesn’t work me? You must be joking!”
LaLa couldn’t stop laughing. It was Gina. Her best friend. She always knew how to put a smile on LaLa’s face.
Dutch, on the other hand, appreciated the quiet. He walked slowly around the estate, speaking to the contingent of Secret Service agents, many of whom used to work for him, and his mind kept floating back to Brandy Clarke. She had some nerve coming to his office like that. Some nerve indeed. She knew what the agreement was. But she showed up anyway. And to declare that boy was in trouble, that he’d been accused of murdering somebody, didn’t surprise Dutch a bit. It only confirmed that he had done the right thing. But it certainly complicated matters.
He was on his second walk around when Crader caught up to him. They were near the back of the estate.
“So this is where you got off to,” Crader said as he made it by Dutch’s side, and they began walking together.
“Any pressing national security problems?” Dutch asked him.
“Plenty.”
“Syria.”
“Egypt this time. Another round of violence. More calls for the US to do more.”
“Like hell,” Dutch said.
“Don’t worry. I have hawks at the Pentagon breathing down my neck, those hawks in Congress ramming it down my throat, but I’m not about to commit any more to that powder keg than what’s already been committed. It’s a mess and there’s no way around it. It will not end well. Makes you wonder if they should have ever gotten rid of Mubarak.”
“I don’t wonder that,” Dutch said. “Democracy isn’t pretty, especially in its infancy. They’ll come around.”
“So,” Crader said as they walked, a sure indication that he was dying to change the subject. “How’s you and Gina been really getting along?”
Dutch looked at him, curious why he would phrase it that way. “We’re getting along fine.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
Crader nodded. “That’s good.”
Dutch hesitated, still studying his old friend. “What about you and Loretta? How are you two getting on?”
Crader nodded his head. “It’s been good.”
“Staying out of trouble?”
“Who me?” Crader said with a charming smile. “Yes, Daddy, I’m staying out of trouble.”
“Good. Because Loretta deserves nothing less.”
Crader didn’t respond to that. He knew it was true. And they continued walking.
Then Crader smiled. “You remember all those crazy things we used to do?” he asked Dutch. “With the ladies, I mean.”
Dutch hesitated. He knew exactly what he meant. “I remember.”
Crader laughed. “Those were some crazy days, man. And to imagine you and then I would eventually become president of this great country makes it all the more remarkable.”
“And scary,” Dutch said, and they laughed.
“Yeah,” Crader said, “but those were the days, my friend.”
Dutch continued walking, looking down at the top of his expensive shoes as he did. He was waiting for more.
And Crader gave him more. “But when you’re president,” he said, “you’re so limited.”
Dutch looked at him. “What are you getting at, Crader?”
Crader exhaled. “I’m not used to this. To being in the fishbowl like this. When I was VP, it wasn’t like this.”
“The scrutiny, you mean?”
“Yes! I can’t fart without the press knowing about it.”
Dutch laughed.
“How did you do it? And if I so much as look at another woman, they want to accuse me of cheating on La.”
Dutch almost stopped walking. “You haven’t, right?” He looked at his closest friend.
“Of course I haven’t. I’m no idiot. But I’m concerned.”
“About what?”
“After the presidency. When the cameras are off. I’m wondering if it’s going to be enough.”
“Crader, what are you talking about? If what’s going to be enough?”
“One woman,” Crader admitted. “I’m not used to this.”
For some reason, his admission inwardly angered Dutch. “It’s not as if you just got married yesterday, Crader,” he said. “Why aren’t you used to it?”
“Because I’m not! Sometimes I want. . . more. I miss it. The variety I mean.”
“What kind of variety? You mean different races of women?”
“No, hell no. Of course not. I used to bed just as many black women as I did white women. I’m talking about women period. Different women.”
Dutch wanted to pounce, but he needed to hear him out.
Crader continued. “LaLa’s wonderful, you know that. She’s sweet, she’s smart, she’s beautiful, she’s even good in bed. She’s wonderful.”
“But?”
“But after a while . . .” Crader looked at him. “I love LaLa, don’t misunderstand me. I want to spend the rest of my life with that woman and that woman alone. She’s my wife and I don’t want any other woman on the face of this earth with that title. LaLa is my woman, and she’ll always be. But . . .”
Dutch wanted to drop kick this joker. “But what?”
“But . . . Wouldn’t it be great if we could . . . have some no-strings-attached kind of fun? Just you and me and Gina and LaLa.”
“No strings attached fun?”
“Yes. We couldn’t have that with anybody else. We couldn’t trust it. But if it’s just the four of us, it could work. When I saw Gina today, and how . . . wow, how gorgeous she looks, it made me . . . It made me start thinking.”
“Seeing my wife made you start thinking?”
“That’s right.”
“And what exactly were you thinking about?”
What about?” Dutch asked, although he was beginning to have a darn good idea what.
“I was thinking that if we could switch, you know? Just every now and then. Now that could really spice things up nicely, Dutch.”
Dutch stopped walking and looked at Crader. Crader stopped walking too. “What are you getting at, Crader? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it’ll be all I need. All we both need.”
“I have all I need, thank-you very much. Speak for yourself.”
“It’ll give me the variety I’m used to, okay? Is that plain enough for you? There wouldn’t be any press leaks or problems with our wives because it’ll involve them too. It’ll be just between us. The four of us. In the family, so to speak. I know how you feel about LaLa. I see how you look at her, and I’m sure you see how I look at Gina. It can be perfect, Dutch. You and La can spend some time together, and I can. . .”
Dutch dared him to say it. He dared him. “And you can what?”
“You can be with La every now and then, and every now and then I can fuck Gina.”
Dutch punched Crader so hard across his face that Crader fell straight on his ass. The Secret Service quickly moved in, when they saw the president fall, but Crader just as quickly waved them back.
“I’m okay,” he yelled, touching the side of his now bloody lip.
The agents didn’t know what to do. It was a felony to hit a sitting president. An out-and-out crime. But when the hitter used to also be the president himself, it wasn’t so cut and dry. But since it was Dutch who administered the blow, they did back off. But kept their eyes trained on the two men now.
Crader stood up, knocking the dirt off of his trousers. “I was joking, Dutch, damn! You can’t take a joke anymore?”
“Oh, it was a joke now?”
“Yes! You know I wouldn’t do anything like that. Just the four of us? Come on, for crying out loud! You know I wouldn’t go for anything like that. I was joking!”
“I think a man suggesting he fuck my wife is crazy, not funny. I don’t get the joke in that.”
“If I can’t joke with you, who can I joke with? I fucking president! I need a release, Dutch, all right? It was
a joke. Nothing more. A joke.”
“Joke about something else,” Dutch ordered. Then he frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you anyway? Why would you even think like that? Loretta’s a great woman!”
“I know she’s great, Dutch! You don’t have to keep telling me that. She thinks you’re great too. She respects you above any other man alive, including me! She’s fantastic, I know that!”
Dutch paused. Crader didn’t understand his relationship with LaLa. In his mind, it was a sexual thing, because that was all his mind seemed capable of seeing. And although Dutch did find LaLa attractive, he had the kind of love for her he had for his children. He looked out for her. He felt a responsibility to her. And the idea that Crader still couldn’t see the diamond he had in LaLa, frustrated him. “What it is, Cray?” Dutch asked him. “Loretta’s fantastic, but she’s not enough for you?”
“Of course she’s enough! I told you I wasn’t serious.”
“Is she enough for you, Crader?” Dutch asked again.
Crader paused, and then he shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “No one woman is or ever can be.”
Dutch exhaled, opened his suit coat, and placed his hands on his hips. “Does she know?” he asked his longtime friend.
“Does she know what? That I’m an asshole for feeling this way?”
“That she’s not good enough for you? That the man she loves and married is saying that she’s not enough for him?”
“What do you want me to say? I love my wife.”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s not bullshit! I love her! I love her more than I love any human being on the face of this earth, and that’s the truth! But I have to have more. I can’t help it, Dutch. I need more!”
Dutch couldn’t believe it. “So what’s the problem? She doesn’t satisfy you in bed, is that what you’re telling me?”
“That’s not it at all! That’s why this is so fucked up. She’s great in bed. Before you guys came, she gave me some and it was. . . it was magnificent,” Crader said honestly. “It was perfect.”
“Then what the hell is your problem?”
“There’s no danger. There’s no . . . I like the danger of it, Dutch. I like. . . Hell, I don’t know, Dutch. You remember how we used to have those threesomes? How dangerous and awesome that felt?”
For the Love of Gina: The President's Girlfriend Page 8
