Recky whispered with the movie star. Nola stared at her soup. Socially she was a bit of a lump.
“Do you talk?” I asked her.
“Yes. Ah talk.”
“What do you say? Ha ha.”
She burst into tears.
Recky gave me a look. “She gone D-grade my whole party.”
“Dubya Tay!” hollered Nola. “How come you never pay ME no mind? You didn’t even say HI to me today!”
“Well I winked at you, woman, I musta had my shades on. Hyuh hyuh. Hey, what do you call a Irishman hangin’ from the ceilin’? Shawn de Leer, hyuh hyuh.”
“Let’s get in there and cut us some food,” said Reb. “General? What can I get yo’ lovely wife?”
“I used to be a gynecologist,” W.T. told Alberta.
“How agreeable for you.”
“No, everybody kept wantin’ to smell my fingers. Hyuh hyuh.”
“Like, you guys!” said Recky.
“W.T. ain’t nothin’ but a worthless polecat,” explained Reb. “Got kicked outa the Hell’s Angels for disorderly conduct.”
“Hyuh hyuh.”
They clinked glasses and splashed wine on Alberta’s hand.
“Here, lemme lick that off for you.”
“He’s a right gentleman, though.”
Nola wept softly.
“Boy, this un’ll sure go down in the aynals,” said Recky.
The movie star didn’t seem sure which expression looked best on him so he kept it in neutral.
The generals, conscious of being outranked for a change, talked to each other’s wives.
“I go to the bitch,” Celebrado told one of them. “I lie around the bitch all day, take thee son.”
Norman stifled a sneeze by swallowing through his nose and breathing through his mouth.
“You tryna make me sick, Noman?” said W.T.
“Don’t you guys start raggin’ on Norman,” Recky said.
“Recky,” said Reb, “why don’t you go and sit in the shade and fan yourself!”
“Who is that?” whispered a general.
“Nobody,” said W.T.
“That is Noman Podwurst,” said Reb, “a vera clever young man on staff at the White House, hain’t you, Noman!”
“How’d you ever get a name like that?” said W.T.
“You mean Norman?” said Norman.
The laughed through their lips.
I can’t really report on the bill of fare, I was mostly watching Alberta. She gave me a that’s-the-dance glance and proceeded to tolerate the attention. I might have breasted into the wine but as I recall it tasted like cough syrup.
“You make it hard,” W.T. told her.
“To what?”
“Hyuh hyuh.”
“Well I can’t eat that stuff,” Reb told a general. “Binds me up!”
“You should eat your bran in the mornin’, Reb,” Recky put in. “Give you some bulk.”
“I’ll give you some bulk.” His look threatened her anally.
“Promises, promises,” she told me, leaning towards Nola. “You ain’t gone commit sewer-cide, are you, hon?”
The movie star held his head at his best angle.
Not until dessert did Reb look up from what had become a conference of murmurs and sail a comment down the table at me. “Course we don’t know what the future’s gonna bring yet, do we.”
This was my cue to get into the crimson-lined cape, cater to the oh-wowists in the crowd. “Better to leave it alone,” I said. That always excites them.
“No,” said Reb. “No, I believe in taking a hand. I believe the Lord helps those that help themselves. Do you think the Lord intervenes in history, Mr. Wallace?”
“Wouldn’t that be cheating at solitaire?”
“I think the Lord’s fixin’ to intervene. The question today is, is the President gonna re-sist the process!”
“He shows every sign of determination,” said W.T. Suddenly W.T. was in his top-man-in-the-Cabinet mode. He and Reb sat calculating down the table at me past the chief military men of the world, who were showing a quiet interest.
“Well he is the President,” I suggested.
Reb laughed. “He is a re-tard.”
“Changes his mind manually,” said W.T.
“He’s a jackass and you know it. A committee will shortly be formed in the Senate to gather information and make a recommendation as to whether or not the President is competent to fulfill his duties and whether impeachment proceedings ought to be initiated. Now my question to you is, what is his response gonna be?”
Everyone waited. Trying to read me.
“I can’t see that far into the future,” I said.
“But you know the President. It’s my opinion that you’re proppin’ him up. I think he’d fall over otherwise!”
“I don’t think that’s true. He’s having a crisis of confidence, that’s all. I think he’s capable of responsible leadership.”
“Huh! Well, like they say, you’re only as good as your Rolodex. Furizahkinsee you’re the only name in his.”
No one seemed to doubt it.
“I believe in the President,” I said.
“Time to rethink it, son.”
“You sound as if you wanted it to happen,” said Alberta.
“Why he’s im-peachin’ hisself! You can’t control Congress it doesn’t matter what else you do! I’m just analazin’ the situation!”
“But you would be the next President,” she said.
“It’s a heavy responsibility, ma’m.” He winked at W.T. “But we’d sure like to have Mr. Wallace here on the right team. You’re doing good in there, Mr. Wallace, and you got TV, I can see that. But you’re workin’ for the wrong guy, and when you hear my speech on Friday you’re gonna know it. The people are gonna know it.”
“Amen,” said W.T.
“When that speech goes down you’re gonna want to be on side on this.”
W.T. wrinkled his nose at me. “Naw, I think we’re milkin’ the wrong tit here, Reb.”
“Oh, I don’t think so. L.B.J. knew how to steal ‘em, I know how to steal em, ain’t that right, Noman?”
Norman sniffed deferentially and touched his nose.
“See, the country sees you as a sort of a medicine man, Mr. Wallace. Sort of a magic man.”
“I see a declaration of repentence and you leadin’ us in prayer,” said W.T.
“Think about it, Mr. Wallace. We’d be more’n happy to have you with us.”
“Wordy’s a professional first. He’ll serve where he’s needed, won’t you Wordy.”
“Well I hope so because we’re goin’ all the way with this one. Goin’ all the way. When we get that bill through and get our robots in place, we gone set things right.”
“Hyuh hyuh.”
“Get your robot soldiers mobilized”—he was speaking to the generals now—“nothin’ can stop em. Don’t sleep, don’t get the trots, ain’t afraida snakes. Ain’t afraida nothin’! You can’t gas ‘em, you can’t nuke ‘em, you can’t music-blast ‘em, go walking right through a radioactive zone, just”—he raised an imaginary weapon to his shoulder—“pyow!” He grinned around. “Get ‘em lazer equipped.”
The generals were leaning forward.
“And they’re real good at po-licin’ the subject population. Have to recruit some of them computer whiz kids and promote ‘em up. Course we’ll keep a contingent on hand as a home guard. Not that I’d ever use ‘em, but if I did!”
“A toast,” said W.T. “To a new day!”
18.
So they were going to take over America. Like I didn’t have enough trouble.
And what was to stop it? I mean this was going to happen! Government by electric eye.
Certainly Reb and W.T. showed every sign of confidence. They had this casual camaraderie with the commanders of the military, and the military, when things get iffy, can be important. W.T. held Alberta in his lap as he sat breezing with the brass.
“I
hope I’m not too heavy,” she said.
“That’s okay, honey, work it around.”
And the leaders of the Armed Forces smiled.
“You slut!” I told her in the car. For propriety’s sake we had dispersed with the partners we’d come in with.
“He does have a certain animal something.”
“You whore!”
“But, darling, I sparkle! I’m a jewel on you! Don’t you want to show me off?”
“You, you—” I searched my value system in vain.
“I’m glad you’re getting all this off your chest.”
“You are hollow,” I pronounced, “and ambitious.”
“Oh, Wordy, don’t be such a dunce. Should I have discouraged him and sat there sulking like you? If they think they can do without us we won’t have any freedom of movement left!”
“Oh, I see. You’re on my side.”
“I admit we have a situation.”
“I was beginning to wonder.”
“Though I must say they couldn’t be much worse than that twit we have now. At least they’re coordinated.”
“The President cares about people.”
“Darling, that’s very sweet.”
“It’s not a game for him! Those people out there are real! They’re real!”
“Wordy, darling, please, I’m tired.”
I stared out the window.
Outwardly, it’s true, I had remained cool to the idea. Reb had impressed the others—I’m sorry, I have to say it—by having the President’s palmist at his own table. I was being used.
But it seemed to be generally assumed—maybe it was Alberta’s assurances, maybe it was my connection with Recky, maybe it was my reputation as a rogue, I don’t know—that I would play along. Take my place in the New Order. And if not?
When we got back I called the number Lewman had given us. “You have reached 765-4321,” the recording said. “Please wait for the beep and leave your name and a telephone number where you can be contacted.”
I hung up and paced.
“What can you tell him,” said Alberta from the bathroom. “That they’re impeaching the President? That they’re sponsoring a weapons bill? He knows that.”
Charles Manson came out of his room in olive-drab underwear. “Can I have a drink of water?”
“We’ve got to do something,” I said. I couldn’t keep still.
“If you want to do something stop the impeachment.” She got into bed and pulled her knees up under the covers.
“Good.” I smiled sarcastically. “Good. How?” I stopped pacing and looked at her. “I hate this.”
“CAN I HAVE A DRINK OF WATER?”
I ran a glass of water for him and he sat drinking it, holding it with both hands.
“What about the speech?” she said. “He says his speech on Friday will clinch the impeachment. Stop him giving it!”
“M-hm,” I said. “How do we stop him giving the speech?”
The looney finished the water and gave a gasp of satisfaction.
“Well—the President could order him not to give it!”
I did her the kindness of appearing to think this over. “Yeah. How else?”
“Well—Mrs. President! She could order him not to give it. Through the President.”
“Okay,” I said. “Okay, I like it. How do we get her to do that?”
“Where were you guys? I cried and nobody came!”
“How do we talk to her at all is more like it. She wouldn’t see me the other day. Maybe that’s changed. We can try in the morning.”
“WHERE WERE YOU GUYS?”
“O-o-oh! Was my little sweetheart all alone?”
We tried in the morning. Nothing. She didn’t call back.
I was glad her nose was all red. Small of me, I guess.
Norman! We could get her through Norman! She doted on Norman.
But no, desperate as he was he hadn’t even looked at me at the party. I had named his name to Recky. He was still sullen.
“Keesh!” I said. “Keesh’ll talk to her!”
I flipped through my address book and tapped his number. First thing you learn in Washington is keep everybody’s number.
He answered right away, must have had the phone with him.
“Word! It’s about time, I was wondering! I am free, free, free, I’ve not nothing on my calendar! Listen, you were so there on the tube, you’re really evolving! Did you ditch the diva? She is such a lady dog. Come on, it’s a technicolor day out here, my people will pick you up and I’ll make a picnic.”
“Keesh, I’ve got to see Mrs. President.”
“My gooness! Whatever for?”
“Keesh—”
Recky. Oh, no! This was no good! He knew Recky!
Who was he better friends with? Which way was he going?
Oh, well. The money was down.
“Keesh,” I said, “they’re going to impeach the President.”
“I know. What are you gonna wear?”
“I think I can stop it, Keesh, but I’ve got to talk to her.”
I could hear a cat running its little motor. The pause was icy.
“Well what have you got?”
“The Vice President’s going to make a speech. She can stop him.”
“Have you got the speech?”
Have I got the speech. “No,” I said. “I don’t have the speech.”
He laughed. “Listen, beautiful, you know how many people want me to lobby the First Lady for them? Hi say, Get down and suck sugar, sweetheart! No, listen, Word, you’re different. You do hands, I do hair, we’re pros. But you’ve got to get me something!”
“The speech.”
“Something she can hold in her hand if you’ll pardon the expression.”
Funny how the whole labyrinth takes shape once you’ve got to get through it.
“Okay, Keesh.”
“Call me when you really need me.”
I hung up.
“I hope he can keep a secret.”
“Belton,” I said. “One of his writers does Reb’s speeches, he was at the Embassy.” I handed her the phone.
She dialed Belton’s office. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“Darling, don’t make another mistake. Script department, please.” She handed me the phone.
“Yeah,” he said. It was him!
What the hell, my hunch said sinister and if I didn’t know why that didn’t mean I couldn’t play it. You shouldn’t think too hard about these things.
“Hi. Word Wallace.”
“Oh, yeah! How’s everything in the future?”
“Listen, I need something.”
“Anything I can do. Do I get a free reading?”
“You wrote a speech for Rawlins, is that right? For Friday?”
“Yup. The Press Club dinner.”
“I need a copy.”
“Shouldn’t be any problem. The networks are covering it, I’m sure I can get a tape.”
“No, I mean a copy of the script. Today.”
“Hah! You are into the future. Listen, that’s the Vice President’s speech. There are no advance copies of a Vice President’s speech! That goes out global.”
“I need it this afternoon. Can you do it?”
“What are you, new here? You want me to risk my job, my career, my reputation to get you an advance copy of a speech? Watch it on the Skinner box!”
“I need it now.”
“Why should I give it to you?”
“In exchange for some information.”
There was a pause while he refiled me. “What information.”
“That you are under investigation by the FBI for tampering with the President’s cue cards and trying to make him a figure of fun.”
“That’s not true.”
“Don’t tell me.”
“Is that all you’ve got?”
“There’s also the fact that you do speeches for elected officials with one hand and
work for The Haines Report with the other.”
“That’s not illegal.”
“I wouldn’t know and I’m certainly willing to suppress the information, but if I don’t get that speech you’re going to be the goat on this. When those hearings start you’re going to be on television.”
He tapped a finger real fast.
“I don’t have a copy.”
“Of course if Rawlins resigns they’ll probably give you a short-term thing. Special treatment. You can write a book.”
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. “Shamrock Bar at two.” He hung up.
I smiled at Alberta.
“I came and watched you sleeping last night. You were so cute I just wanted to get in and squeeze you both to death.”
He entered the bar hunched with his hands in his pockets. Corduroy suit, shades, a floppy leatherette folder under his arm. Sat beside me and ordered a beer, unzipped the folder and slid over some pages of dot matrix.
“Why me? I’m not the only speechwriter!”
“My informant didn’t say.”
I raised a corner and read without bending over it though I flipped pages with a certain snap. The opening bow, the joke, a replay of the administration’s accomplishments and then it became a list of things the President had slipped up on. Fumbled chances, errors in foreign policy, bad decisions, one after another building momentum and then it just stopped.
“Where’s the rest of it?” I checked the backs of the pages.
“That’s it.”
“What do you mean, that’s it? There’s no finish!”
“That’s what they asked for. They give me the material and I put it together. He’s got his own ending.”
God, this was so hard! A speech without a last page!
“I’m doing it for the experience,” he said. “The whole American carnival. I’m a writer, I’ve got to write! When my novel came out the blurbs said it was unputdownable. The critics put it down. I want my words to be heard, I want to do soaps. I have to write!”
I left, let him pay for the drinks.
Called Lewman and got the recording. “God damn it, Lewman!” I shouted. “I’m at a pay phone and there’s a coup happening!”
He called right back. “What is it, Wordsworth?”
“They’re moving the President out, Lewman. Rawlins is giving a speech on Friday and there’s going to be a whole new system in place!”
“Take it easy, Wordsworth.”
The President's Palm Reader: A Washington Comedy Page 21
