Dutch and Gina: The Power of Love

by Mallory Monroe

  But just as LaLa was about to turn away from the window again, she saw, from the corner of her eye, a male figure approaching the couple. She quickly looked, amazed that Secret Service was allowing this approach.

  But when the president raised his hand in acknowledgement of the man, and the man, once upon them, shook the president’s hand, LaLa relaxed again. After witnessing that craziness with Little Walt’s botched kidnapping, and how it nearly destroyed Dutch and Gina, she didn’t take any chances when a new face hit the scene.

  The man appeared to be a little younger than Dutch, maybe in his late thirties, and he wore a light blue seersucker suit and sandals, with the coat flapped across his shoulder. He had a thick wad of brown hair that blew wildly in the Caribbean breeze, and his tall, athletic frame was even more muscular than Dutch’s. He was smiling, even from where LaLa stood she could tell he was an affable man, as he reared back in laughter.

  For the longest time LaLa just stood there, unable to take her eyes off of the animated man laughing and talking with the First Couple. Until Crader returned and interrupted her trance.

  “Little Walt is now lying down,” Crader said as he made his way back to LaLa’s side. He was determined to pretend his hurt feelings never occurred. “That little fellar is going to be a ladies man just as sure as I’m standing here.”

  “Who’s that?” LaLa asked, unable to hide her interest.

  Crader looked from LaLa to the man standing on the beach with Dutch and Gina. He looked back at LaLa. “Why?”

  “Who is it, Crader?” LaLa asked, her eyes still transfixed on the stranger.

  “That’s Robert,” Crader said.

  LaLa looked at Crader snidely. “Thanks a lot, Cray, you really answered my question. That’s Robert. Oh, okay.” Then she frowned. “Who is he, Cray, not what is his name. Who is he?”

  Crader’s heart dropped. Here he was literally begging to get back with her and she had already moved on. She was so over him it wasn’t funny, he thought. “He’s a friend of the president’s. Why? You interested?”

  “It’s not even like that. I just don’t want any more drama like that foolishness we had in Florida. And since I’ve never seen that man before in my life, I’m asking questions.”

  “He’s Robert Rand. He owns this little piece of tropical paradise we have the good fortune of visiting right this very moment.”

  “He owns it? You’re lying! I thought the president owned this place.”

  “Dutch could own it, he’s rich enough. But no. Robert Rand owns this.”

  “So that’s Mr. Rand,” LaLa said, looking once again at Robert.

  “That’s right,” Crader replied slowly, almost cautiously, as he stared at LaLa.

  THREE

  Robert Rand sat behind his office desk within his beachfront mansion, and leaned back in his executive chair. He was on a conference call with the Vice President of the United States, Shelton Pratt, and the Speaker of the House of Representatives, Jed Brightman. Both men wanted an update.

  “All going according to plan,” Robert said, his phone on speaker, his hand tossing a golf ball in the air.

  “What about Loretta King?” the Vice President asked. “Have you met her yet?”

  “Not yet, Shelly. I just got here, remember? But we’re all assembling for dinner in a few. I suspect I’ll be meeting her then.”

  “And you’re so certain she’ll fall for you?”

  “Will you stop worrying for two seconds? I know how to handle women. If she’s as love-starved as our investigation indicates, I’ll have her eating out of my hands in no time. She’ll position me perfectly.”

  Shelly sighed. “I don’t know,” he began.

  “It’s not for you to know. Just trust that I know what I’m doing. Miss King has the total confidence of the First Lady, and the First Lady, after all, is our focus here. Not Loretta King. She’s just a means to an end. She’ll just be that extra nugget that won’t make it look strange when I decide to pop up at the White House. And when I show up uninvited, they will both welcome me with open arms.”

  “But what makes you so certain, that’s what I want to know?”

  “Because of the charm offensive, Shelly. Something you know nothing about.”

  Jed Brightman laughed.

  “Don’t be disrespectful,” the vice president asserted. “I know a little something about charm, thank-you. But that Regina Harber, that’s a smart lady. A lady like that isn’t going to fall for any charm offensive.”

  “He doesn’t have to charm her,” Jed Brightman said, tired of the VP’s lack of understanding. They’d been over the plan several times, but he still didn’t seem to get it. “He has to charm Loretta King.”

  “And that’s the point,” Robert agreed. “The First Lady cares about her friend’s well-being, that’s a fact in every report we looked at. Dutch’s wife will see me as a great catch for her friend and I’ll make certain that her friend agrees.”

  “But why would she view you as such a catch?” Shelly asked. “You aren’t even all that great looking. You’re no Dutch Harber or Crader McKenzie or nobody like that.”

  Robert smiled. “But I have twice the charm of both those guys. And twice the cash. Women think they’re doing me a favor by dating me, by falling for me. Falling for me and my billions, that is,” Robert added with a chuckle.

  “That’s what they’re really charmed about,” Shelly interjected.

  Robert went on. “Just trust me, Shell, all right? This Loretta King person will be eating out of my hand before the night is through. And then, when they’re back in DC, I’ll go see the First Lady, give her my song and dance, and our plan will have officially begun.”

  Shelly Pratt, however, was still unconvinced. “But there are so many variables in this plan of yours.”

  Speaker Brightman disagreed. “It’s a good plan,” he said. “You have just got to be patient. If we remain patient, and let it play itself out naturally, we can’t fail.”

  “Jed is right,” Robert said. “If we rush things, it could blow up in our faces. But if we do it right, which I have every intention of doing, it will work like a charm.” Robert smiled. “Like my charm. They will think I’m coming at them in direction A, then direction B, when I’m really coming in direction C. It’ll be a misdirection of a misdirection. But they’ll be so focused on A and B that they won’t even realize C was on the radar screen. Until it’s too late.”

  “And Dutch Harber will be destroyed forever,” Shelly said, which was really his goal.

  “I can’t guarantee his destruction,” Robert said, “but I can certainly guarantee that he’ll resign. That’s the least he will do. He and that black family of his will leave Washington with their tails between their legs. And that’s all I’m after anyway.”

  “You want him to go down because he has a black wife?” Shelly asked as if he found the mere thought disgusting.

  “Of course not! I don’t care if the bitch was blue. I want to be the top guy, and Dutch Harber stands in my way. He has got to go. That’s all there is to it.”

  “It’s all about the power with you,” Shelly said. “Isn’t it? Even if it means backstabbing your own friend.”

  Robert smiled. What a loser, he thought. “Of course it’s about power. That’s what it’s always about. Money or power or both. I’m already rich. Why else would I bother?”

  “Pay Shelly no attention,” Jed urged Robert. “He wants more power too, which we will all have if we stick to the plan. He’s just not courageous enough to admit it.”

  “Well I am, gentlemen,” Robert said with a booming laugh that the Speaker shared. “I am.”

  Less than an hour after his conference call with the Speaker and Vice President, Robert walked across the patio of his massive beach house and handed a glass of wine to Dutch Harber. It was nighttime across the island and Dutch was seated in one of the numerous chairs around the patio. He was watching the chef and his assistants grill steaks and burgers and attend
to the every need of the White House contingent. Many in that contingent, namely the young aides from Dutch and Gina’s staffs, were playing Frisbee on the beach. Dutch’s daughter Jade and her husband Christian Bale were seated on the far opposite side of the patio. By their mouth movements and hand gestures, Dutch could tell that they were arguing again. It was becoming standard fare with those two and it was beginning to concern Dutch. He, in fact, was a little saddened that neither one of them had yet to come to him or Gina for advice. But what could he do about it? He wasn’t about to interfere in another man’s marriage.

  He leaned back and sipped from his glass of wine. He was dressed casually, in a light green polo shirt, a pair of shorts, and sandals. He had one of his nicely tanned legs crossed over his thigh as he listened to the Calypso beat on the loudspeakers and continued to watch his unhappy daughter.

  “She’s lovely, Dutch,” Robert said as he sat next to the president. He still wore his seersucker suit from earlier in the day, as he knew firsthand just how cool those night breezes in the Caribbean could become.

  “That she is,” Dutch replied, looking at Jade’s short, slender body, her smooth brown skin, her dark-green eyes that reminded him so much of her mother. She was the product of a one-night stand he’d had over twenty-three years ago with Samantha Redding, an African-American woman he knew at Harvard and who was now a bookstore owner in North Carolina. It had been less than six months ago since he found out that he even had a daughter. But she was now as much a part of his life, of his heart, as Gina and Little Walt.

  “Who’s that guy bugging her?” Robert wanted to know. With his bunched-up blond hair and those bewildered-looking big blue eyes, Christian looked to him to be out of place among this high octane crowd.

  “That guy,” Dutch replied, “is her husband.”

  “Her husband? That kid?”

  Dutch smiled. “He’s older than her.”

  “In years, perhaps, but let’s put it this way: he ain’t older than her. Okay? If you get my meaning.”

  Dutch nodded. Because he got it. It had been a concern of his when Christian first asked his permission to wed.

  “I take it you approve of that young husband of hers?” Robert continued.

  “Christian? Yes. Absolutely. He’s a good kid.”

  “Kid being the operative word. Can you imagine him handling that beauty?” Robert shook his head. “I don’t see it.”

  Dutch didn’t respond, he just sipped more wine.

  “But really, how does it feel?” Robert asked him.

  “How does what feel?”

  “To be surrounded by blacks?”

  Dutch hesitated. Had he missed something? “I’m sure I don’t get what you mean.”

  “Your family,” Robert said grinningly. “In case you haven’t noticed, they’re all black. Your wife is black, your son is black. Well, half-black, but he looks black. Your daughter looks black. You’re the only pure white in the whole bunch. The only pale face in the entire crew. The only milk in the entire stew. They can dance, you can’t. They can run and jump, and high-five, you can’t. They can scratch their heads way better than you’ll ever be able to.” Robert said all of this with an enormous grin, as if he was a stand-up comedian catching his stride.

  Dutch, however, didn’t see the humor at all. Not in such ludicrous stereotyping that undoubtedly was rooted and grounded in old-fashioned bigotry. He had to sit there, literally sit still, to compose himself.

  But Robert, thinking he had an attentive audience, wouldn’t let it go. “I mean, honestly,” he continued. “You’ve got yourself a blossoming basketball team up in here. Or some future gangsta rappers.”

  Dutch stared at his friend. “I like you Robert,” he said. “And I know you enjoy the odd joke. But right now you sound like a fool.”

  “A fool?”

  “A gotdamn fool,” Dutch said, not taking a word of it back. “What the fuck does a person’s skin color have to do with anything at all?”

  Robert was stupefied. He didn’t expect to be called out. In his world nobody dared be offended when he made his little ethic jokes. He meant no harm and they knew it. But Dutch wasn’t letting him get away with any of it.

  “Dutch, I was just joking around. I didn’t mean,” he continued, but Dutch cut him off.

  “My wife and my children are individuals with very different likes and dislikes and the color of their skin has nothing to do with any of it. The idea that you would seek to categorize people that way, a man of your sophistication, quite frankly amazes me.”

  Robert knew he had to damage control and control it fast. “Come on, Dutch,” he said with a smile. “You know me. I’m known to occasionally put my foot in it. This is one of those occasions. I truly meant no harm.”

  “I know what you meant, Bob,” Dutch responded, staring his friend dead in the eye.

  Robert’s throat constricted. For the sake of the plan, he had to dig and dig fast. So he did what he usually did when in a tight jam: he grinned.

  “I apologize,” he said in full charm offensive, his grin on full display. “You know how I can be. If there’s a way to screw up, I’ll find it. Please accept my humble apology.”

  Dutch didn’t see what there was to grin about, but he accepted Robert’s apology anyway. Life was too short, he felt, to hold grudges.

  Within minutes of this truce, however, Jade was storming off of the patio and into the house. Christian, red-faced and angry, stood up, ran his hand through his hair, and then walked over and stood beside the president’s chair. He was facing out, toward the beach, and his blond hair was brushing around wildly in the wind.

  Robert smiled, he knew how impulsive and utterly irrational young love could be, and he sipped from his own glass of wine. Dutch just sat there and waited for Christian to address him.

  Finally, when it was clear to Christian that his father-in-law wasn’t the interfering type, he exhaled and took a seat beside the president. “Your daughter, sir,” he began, his slim body leaned forward, “is a stubborn, bone-headed wench!” He said this angrily and all at once, prompting Robert to laugh.

  Robert’s laughter caused Christian to immediately redden even more, as he realized whom he had said it to. “With respect, sir,” he added, his blue eyes filled with that sincerity Dutch loved about him. “But she is.”

  “And what made you conclude,” Dutch asked, “that she was a stubborn, bone-headed wench?”

  “She won’t listen to me! I told her she can’t go back to work, not with the baby on the way, not when she’s the daughter of a sitting president, but she keeps insisting that it doesn’t matter. But it does matter, sir. I don’t want my wife working, and I don’t want her working with my child in her belly.”

  Dutch considered Christian. He was concerned before the marriage if Christian was tough enough for the job. Jade could be a handful, and Dutch had told him so. But the young man insisted he was up to the challenge. “Before you married her,” he asked, “did she tell you she wouldn’t return to work?”

  “No, sir, but . . . but it was just assumed she wouldn’t. I mean, she’s the president’s daughter! What would she look like working? All of the Secret Service would have to be there with her all the time, and it wouldn’t be fair to her students. I know she gets bored and everything, and I know she was a school teacher before she knew you were her father, but . . .”

  Dutch could just feel Christian’s distress. “Calm down, son,” he said to him.

  “Yes, sir, it’s just that she won’t listen to me. And I don’t know what to do.”

  Christian looked at Dutch, as if only he could give him the right answer. Dutch, however, said nothing.

  “It’s just kind of tough, that’s all,” Christian added.

  “Did you expect marriage to be easy?”

  “Well, no, sir. Not really. But with Jade it’s just that . . .”

  “You married a strong woman with strong opinions.”

  “I understand that, sir. But-
--”

  “There is no but, Christian. She’s a strong woman who has to have a strong man in her corner. Period.” Then Dutch looked at him. “A boy will not do.”

  Christian looked even more bewildered. Letting the president down would be the worst thing ever in his mind. He knew he had to be strong. “Yes, sir,” he said. Then he smiled. “I’ll bet you’ve never had this kind of trouble with your wife.”

  Dutch snorted. “Like hell I haven’t.”

  Christian looked at him. And so did Robert Rand. “You’ve had this problem before, sir?” Christian asked.

  “Exact same issue.”

  “You mean Mrs. Harber wanted to go back to work after she married you?”

  “Of course she did. She worked all of her adult life. Why wouldn’t she? It was all she knew.”

  “So how did you keep her from going back?”

  “I told her I didn’t want her doing that right now.”

  Christian’s eyes lit up. “And she obeyed you?”

  “We had a few battles over it, but yes, she agreed with me.”

  “Why?”

  Dutch thought about this. “Because she concluded that I was looking out for her, not simply trying to lord it over her,” he said.

  Christian nodded. “I’m looking out for Jade. But she doesn’t want to hear anything I have to say about it. It’s like she doesn’t think it should concern me. I even told her she should do like your wife does, sir, that she should be more like the First Lady. I told her you don’t allow Mrs. Harber to run around town working on somebody’s job, and Mrs. Harber used to be a lawyer!”

  Dutch wanted to smile at the way Christian said the word lawyer, but he didn’t. The young man was too distressed.

  “But even when I brought that up,” Christian said with a frown on his face, “she didn’t want to hear that, either. She just got disrespectful.”

  “Disrespectful to you?”

  “To your wife, sir. She said all Gina, and that’s how she refers to the First Lady, sir, she said all Gina was good for was going to ribbon cutting ceremonies and ghetto soup kitchens. She said you’ve got the First Lady right under your thumb, but she wasn’t going out like that. That’s the way she put it, sir, that she wasn’t going out like that. Going out like what? What kind of language is that?”