George looked up at the President before he spoke. He had made a study of Warner Duffy. Here was a man who looked ever inch a president. Tall, graying at the temples, sometimes stern, but with a twinkle of humor in his eyes. Duffy was a good man, with all the best intentions in the world. He honestly wanted to bring about the changes the nation so sorely needed. But, he had one tragic disability. Warner Duffy was a liberal martyr, who had been thrown to a conservative Congress. They sat on every bill he initiated and his hands were tied. The President stood waiting for George’s answer, The smile faded from his eyes and the shoulders that stood so square and confident two years ago, drooped a little. George smiled to himself. Even presidents have dandruff.
Finally, George spoke, weighing his words carefully. “Mr. President, I’d say, with the congress you’ve been saddled with, you’re doing about the finest job any human being could be expected to do. It’s an impossible chore at best and you are getting no support from Capitol Hill.”
“Oh, then you noticed,” answered the President, with a sad smile.
Then he sat down next to the singer and looked into the glass he was holding. Maybe Warner Duff y lacks the elusive X factor or charismatic leadership, George thought. Only a few in recent history had it. Churchill, FDR, Hitler--Kennedy maybe As with most presidents, the office had taken its toll and the man next to him already looked tired and old. His ego trip to the the White House had turned to bitter vetch, a bite that was now difficult to swallow. History would remember he’d been one of the presidents of the United States, and not much more.
The President leaned toward George. “I know I can confide in you George. It’s damned lonely up here on top and I invited you tonight, not only to commend you on the wonderful morale building job you’re doing for the nation, but to confess something. It’s damned discouraging, this job of mine. Fact it. I think Congress passes more of your bills than they do of mine. How do you do it? The people seem to listen to you when they won’t pay any attention to me.”
George tried to smile at the saddened man next to him. “Maybe you should take up the guitar, Mr. President,” joked George. Then he spoke seriously. “I think they listen to me because I can’t do them any harm. The government confuses them and their suspicious. But, I do think most of them can see you’re trying to help them. Perhaps they’re just a little disappointed your unable to do more.”
The two men sat silently for a moment. the the President smiled. “Well, only two more years to go. I guess I can mark time ‘til then. I’ll just keep plugging away at those bastards on the Hill.” The president stood up as he continued. “Meanwhile, I might as well enjoy some of the fringe benefits. Who else in the world could have George Potter come into their home and sing for them?”
George stood up next the President and as the Chief Executive looked into George’s face, the singer could read the President’s gratitude in his eyes.
“George, how about one more song for my guests?” he asked as he led the way from the Oval Office.
“De-lighted, Mr. President,” came George’s ready reply. He was glad the responsibility of soothing the President’s crushed hopes was over.
They reentered the East Room together and the crowd turned toward them as the President announced:
“George has kindly consented to sing again. I think you’ll all agree Cross Country would be appropriate.”
There was a wave of consenting replies as George returned to the platform and picked up
his guitar. “Let’s make it a sing-along then,” he laughed.
The enthusiastic crowd agreed. Cross Country had become such a patriotic classic that one Senator had initiated a bill to have it replace the Star Spangled Banner as the national anthem. His argument had been. “It’s a lot easier to relate to today...and one hell of a lot easier to sing!” The bill didn’t pass, but it did get a lot of votes.
George began to sing. It was a simple song that told of a great country that was in trouble, but to paraphrase Voltaire, it was still: The best of all possible worlds!
“If you doubt what makes it great...then take a trip...Cross Country!”
The crowd joined in and as they sang, they stood up--even the President and First Lady. The black tie crowed sang and as always the song brought a glimpse of better days to come.
When the song ended, the evening ended, but on an upbeat note of Hope!
NINETEEN
The couple in the bed were bathed in a soft, warm light. The young man was half sitting, half reclining. They were apparently naked. The lower half of the young man’s body was covered only by a sheet,. The lovely auburn-haired girl lay on her back, her ample bosom just hidden by the covering. George Potter lowered himself to one elbow and gazed rapturously into the girl’s eyes. Their faces were very close. With one finger, he gently brushed a tendril of dark red hair from her forehead as he whispered, tenderly:
“Love is the most wonderful gift one person can give or receive from another.”
“Then this is our bargain?” she breathed.
“Yes--a beautiful bargain,” he replied as she touched his lips with her finger tips and then moved them to the dimple in his cheek.
“Will you please seal that bargain with a kiss?” She begged softly.
Her arms went up and around his muscular shoulders and into the mass of his dark hair as he gathered her in his arms, and slowly very slowly lowered his head until their lips touched. They seemed to respond to the stimulus of their kiss and the passion of their embrace increased--until from somewhere--suddenly...
“Cut! and Print! Great job kids!”
George and the girl in the bed slowly disentangled themselves from one another’s arms and George sat up. He looked sleepily toward the director, crew and guests who where gathered around and behind the big Mitchell Panavision camera. The onlookers, those lucky enough to be present on the closed set, gazed back at the couple on the bed with mixed reactions. Some were vicariously excited by the realism of the performance. Others admired the beauty of the characters. And some were impressed with the acting ability and compatibility of the couple before them. Lydia was there too, smiling a strange smile. Paul Connor stood near by with an odd look on his face as he stared at the two on the bed.
The tableau was disrupted again and the director got up and stretched.
“Just terrific, Stephanie and George,” he enthused. That was the last shot, folks. The shooting is finished. Now it’s in the able hands of the editor. I’ve got the feeling it’s gonna be a good one. I’d say we can all look forward to award time.
“Whoopee,” yelled someone from the lighting grid and everyone from the script girl to the head grip gave the stars and director their heartfelt applause.
After giving the girl a playful little peck on the cheek, George slid out of the bed. She looked like she would have preferred more, but smiled at him as he got up. He was wearing a bathing suit. He stood on the far side of the bed and blushed slightly as he thanked everyone for their help.
“And now I believe the generous Paul Connor has prepared a small feast of celebration,” he concluded, pointing to a white covered table to one side of the studio where caterers were laying out elegant canapés, hors d’oeuvres, shrimp, lobster, steaks and other gourmet goodies. Champagne corks began to pop as everyone moved toward the food and drink.
A wardrobe lady hurried forward with a silk robe as the girl rose from the bed. She seemed oblivious to the fact she was exposing her wares.
“Here, Miss Doros. Put this on before you catch your death,” she said while he helped the actress cover herself.
Stephanie Doros hardly noticed or acknowledged the woman’s assistance as she followed George Potter with her eyes. She made a wicked little grin when George reached his wife. She watch Lydia place a warm robe around him and show him to his slippers nearby. Lydia commented on his performance with a wry smile.
&
nbsp; “You certainly put a lot of feeling into that scene, George. I’m sure everyone noticed that your swimsuit look a little lumpy too, sweetie,” she commented with a mild wifely growl.
George blushed once more and gave her a kiss and a squeeze. “Well, you know what the critics have been saying about your ol’ dad? ‘George Potter shows great promise as an actor.’”
They both laughed and followed the others to the table.
One by one the crew came up to George and Lydia and commended him on his performance, even the most hardened, old lighting grip. The ones who had seen many great performances through the years had to tell George how impressed they were with his work, and how much they enjoyed being a part of this new picture. He thanked them all. He and Lydia smiled at each other. She was so proud of him that she gave him a squeeze every now and then, just to make sure he wasn’t a dream. She wanted to make sure this amazing George Potter was really her man.
The party went on for some time. Everyone was talking about the business they all loved. The champagne had loosened them up and the party was a real success. A few toasts were raised to the stars of the movie and George acknowledged them modestly while Stephanie Doros seemed to accept them as her due.
Stephanie was just short of being bombed. But something was troubling her. Every once in a while, her agent would whisper in her ear and they would look toward George and Lydia. Stephanie’s robe had fallen open more than was necessary, and once again she advertised the products of a healthy childhood on an Iowa farm.
Suddenly, she jumped up on the buffet table, just missed putting one foot in the caviar tray. She swayed slightly and her speech was slurred as she addressed the party.
“Lishen up and lishen up good,” she said and then tossed off the rest of her champagne. Everyone turned to look at her. Her beautiful, long, auburn hair fell half over her face and the robe was open, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“I got thish ‘nouncement to make.” she continued, apparently forgetting everything she had learned about proper diction. “In about eight months we’re gonna have another big premiere.”
The members of the crew turned to look at one another. What was she talking about? Was she going to have a baby? Whose? they asked themselves. Stephanie wasn’t married--at the moment.
“Thash right. I’m gonna have a baby. HIS baby!” she screamed out the last as she pointed a wavering finger in the direction of George Potter. “George Potter’s baby!”
With that she started to laugh hysterically and lost her balance. Her agent hurried up and grabbed her as she fell, laughing into his fat arms.
The crowd gasped and looked toward the singing idol. His jaw was at half-mast as he stood gaping at the departing actress who was being carried out in hysterics by her agent.
“George...George?” shouted Lydia, trying to get his attention. Paul Connor came over and looked into George’s face.
“George, what is all this?”
Lydia could take it no longer. Everyone was staring at them. Was it true? Her George? She suspected, but couldn’t believe. George was her whole life. She was struck by conflicting emotions. Finally she could stand it no longer and grabbed her purse, turned on her heel and ran from the sound stage. George ran after her, his robe billowing out behind him. She was in her car and away before he could reach her, and he had to go back to his dressing room to get his keys before he could follow.
It was a long race up to their rented, pink palazzo in the heights of Beverly Hills. George had some difficulty getting into the house. The doors were barred from the inside. Finally he found a French window that Lydia had missed. He pushed it open and rushed up the stairs, past the maid who merely shrugged as he hurried past her.
He found the door to their bedroom locked and gave it a swift kick. The house was fairly new and the door gave easily. He found Lydia sobbing on their bed.
“Lydia, Lydia...I’m innocent. I love only you. You should know that!” he pleaded , sitting on the edge of the bed as he put a hand on her shoulder.’
She shook it off.
“Bull shit!” she exploded. I know that half the world thinks you’re some sort of god, but immaculate conception is out of vogue! You either did it or you didn’t!”
George sat there for a few long moments, looking down at the distraught form on the bed.
“I am disappointed,” he said finally. There was a tone of infinite sadness in his voice.
“Disappointed?!” shouted Lydia turning over to look at him. “What do you mean disappointed?”
“Disappointed that you have so little faith in my love for you,” he replied, his words choked with emotion. she could see tears welling up in his eyes.
She lay on her back, looking up at him as he continued. “Ya know, it’s funny,” he said smiling through his tears. “The other day, Paul said something about me being a universal sex symbol.” He shrugged and wiped away his tea rs with the back of his hand. “Some sex symbol.
You’re the only one I want to have sex with. You satisfy everything I need. Everything I want. I love you with all my being and you are as much as I can, and or want to handle. I don’t think I do such a bad job in the lovemaking department, do I?” He waited for an answer and could see her expression change as he spoke to her.
“Well, that’s about as often as I can get it up. It may not look like it, but I work pretty damned hard for this meager living we have and I don’t have much energy left to go romping in the sack with every Stephanie Doros who comes along, and there are plenty of them as you well know. Your are the only one I will allow to have the doubtful pleasure of my puny bod and you should have more faith in me.” He finished the speech and she could see his eyes were misting up again.
“Oh, my poor darling,” she said, moving to him and putting her arms around him. “Of course I believe you . It’s just that I do get a bit jealous of ol those broads pawing you all the time. When that bitch made her little announcement, it was just too much. Please forgive me. I love you so. I couldn’t bear for you to be angry with me.”
He laughed and pulled her to him to kiss her.
“Weeee!” squealed a little voice nearby. Lydia and George looked to see George Two, who was now three, crawling toward them. They parted as he crawled to a spot between them. Then he turned over and looked up at them with a cherubic, dimpled grin.
“Hello mommy, Hello Daddy,“ he giggled
Lydia and George both roared with laughter as they gathered the little boy to them and showered him with kisses. They looked at one another and knew that if ever such a crisis struck again, there would never be any doubt about their love for one another.
****
The next morning, the newspapers were full of the new scandal. Headlines screamed:
GEORGE POTTER PATERNITY SUIT!!, GEORGIE DID IT!! was the summation of the statement released by that little darling, Stephanie Doros, at her press conference following the scene at the studio.
Paul Connor arrived with a pile of papers from all over the world, all screaming similar headlines and stories in twenty languages. He took a long look at his client.
“Georgie, Georgie, Georgie,” he clucked.
“Oh come on, Paul. You never let me out of your sight,” chided the star. “And when I’m not with you, I’m under the protection of this little vixen here,” he added giving Lydia a squeeze. “You think maybe I did it during one the love scenes on camera? I mean, I’m not that good.”
Paul put his hands on his hips and laughed at the picture conjured up by George’s comment.
“Okay, you win. Oh me of little faith. Thank god for the South American tour. You leave day after tomorrow and stay away until we find out what this Doros bitch is up to. The latins are broad minded and if our advance reports are correct, they love you dearly. I’m not sure what your American public is thinking. I expect most will take your side on this.” He moved over and sat on the
pile of newspapers. “You need a vacation anyway. That’s what this tour is supposed to be. A minimum of shows...only three a week, and a maximum of rest... or...uh...” he looked at them with a sly smirk...”whatever you two have in mind. I’m sending Liza and George Two along to chaperone.”
“Ohhhh,” groaned the two on the couch, and all three laughed.
“I just about have everything packed,” chimed in Lydia
“Rio, here we come! Olay!” shouted George, jumping up to do a tango step!
****
The departure was covered by every newspaper in the country plus many from other lands. Reporters and cameramen descended on them, en masse, along with thousands of fans. All screaming at once. They didn’t seem to care whether he was guilty of adultery or not. They still adored him. There was so much screaming he couldn’t have answered the reporters even if he could hear their questions. So he just smiled, waved with one hand, holding one of Lydia’s with the other as she looked adoringly up at him. A police cordon gently moved people aside to give them access to their chartered 707.
At last in the quiet of the luxurious cabin, they looked out and both of them together, smiling through single port made such a picture of wedded bliss that everyone began to wonder just what Stephanie Doros was really up to.
The Potters waved happily as the big plane taxied away down the runway. Off to south America, and their first real honeymoon. They left the whole mess in the hands of George’s able attorneys.
****
Except for a few in George’s vast following who were envious of the Doros girl’s close proximity to their idol, men said or thought. “Good for you, George!”
The women blamed the girl for entrapment. Many wished it was she who was carrying the King’s child. For weeks the news carried the sensational story. the publicity was staggering as the public kept tabs on the scandal’s progress.
Finally, George’s attorneys forced the reluctant girl to have an examination by a doctor of their choosing, and found though Stephanie Doros was certainly no virgin, she was also certainly not pregnant. It was all a hoax. A well-planned publicity stunt which had almost worked. Unfortunately for Miss Doros, George Potter returned to the United States, the chaste Lancelot and hero his fans had always thought him to be.
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