First Lady (50 page)

Lauren chuckled low in her throat, a deep gravelly sound. “She does have fantastic legs, doesn’t she?”

Wayne snorted. “Hell, yes.”

She narrowed her eyes at Wayne. “Do you really have a girlfriend?”

“Hell, no.”

Lauren burst out laughing.

“I’m just vain and couldn’t come up with a better excuse. The truth is, I wanted to look good today. I’ve never been to a convention that had press coverage.”

“Well.” Lauren leaned a little closer to Wayne, wrinkling her nose as she poked her fingertips into the wiry bristles covering his chin. “It looks good,” she pronounced with a nod of her head.

His eyes filled with hope. “Really?”

“Hell, no.” She gave him a sympathetic smile to soften the blow.

Now it was Wayne’s turn to laugh.

Lauren focused her gaze a little harder. “It doesn’t look like a color that occurs in nature at all. You look like a deranged,” she winked, “but loveable Viking.”

“Hey,” he covered the flaming red hair with his hand. “The color was on sale! Besides,” he let his hand drop. “I’m washing it out tonight. You should have heard the whopper my secretary told me this morning when she saw it.”

His heavy brow creased unhappily as he looked at the pink mark that still marred Lauren’s forehead. “That must have smarted. I was worried about you, kiddo. I called the White House when I saw it on the news, but they just gave me the run-around.”

Lauren smiled gently at him, appreciating his kind heart more than he knew. “It happened so fast… I… well, it wasn’t so bad.”

Wayne shrugged good-naturedly. “Whatever you say. I would have cried like a little girl.”

“I think I was in too much of a stupor to cry.”

“I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“Me too.” Not wanting to continue with this depressing topic, Lauren gestured to the stage where several tables had been set up for the next panel of speakers. “You said you wanted me to autograph some books. How about we do it there? I’m on the next panel anyway.”

Wayne scratched his jaw. “Oh, um… did I say one box?”

Lauren voice dropped an octave in warning. “Wayne—”

“What’s six tiny boxes?”

Lauren crossed her arms, ready to do battle on very familiar turf. “Two boxes,” she offered.

“Five boxes.”

“Three, and that’s my final offer. You’d have me sign until my hand fell off.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Three!”

“Calm down.” He patted Lauren’s hand. “Three boxes, just like I said all along.” He turned towards the stage. “Mike!” he barked to a young man who was performing a sound check on the microphone that Wayne had recently used and was wearing a large nametag. “Bring up four boxes of the First Lady’s books and put them on that table, would you? They’re in Room B and marked ‘Strayer.’”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Why do I pay you again, Wayne? You never listen to me.”

“But I’m loveable.” He smiled unrepentantly, his chubby cheeks creasing deeply. “Don’t forget loveable.” He groaned a little as she leaned forward, and rose to his feet himself. “C’mon, let’s get you signing.”

Lauren motioned to two Secret Service agents, who, with a curt nod, ventured onstage to give it final security check. A third agent was dispatched with a metal/chemical/and biological agent detecting wand to run it over the boxes and books. It wasn’t long before Lauren and Wayne were waved forward to make their way to one of the long banquet-style tables.

“So how are things going with your new hot prospect?” Lauren asked as she took a seat and cracked open a bottle of water from an ice bucket in the center of the table.

“You mean Bobby?” Robert Rivera was Starlight’s new golden boy and his novel-turned-play was set to open in less than a week.

Lauren dug around in her laptop case until she emerged with her wire-rimmed glasses and carefully put them on. “Who else?”

Wayne grabbed a handful of Lauren’s last biography out of its box and passed them over to her along with a pen. “I’ll tell you, it’s been wild. And here I thought things were crazy with you.”

Lauren snorted as she penned her name on the cover page. “It’s hard to imagine anyone surpassing my media circus.” She started a pile with the signed book, then reached for another.

“Can you stay for tonight’s dinner? I’d love a beautiful escort.” Wayne’s eyebrows bounced as he scooted his chair a little closer to Lauren’s so that Mike could pass behind them.

The neatly dressed intern and general gopher from Starlight Publishing began distributing note pads and pencils at the tables.

“Sorry.” Affectionately, Lauren bumped shoulders with the bulky man. “I’m due back in Washington by 6 to be present when Devlyn becomes the first person ever to have her blood taken for the DNA Registration Act.” She kept her voice light and soft, not wanting to let on how uncomfortable events like that made her.

Wayne didn’t miss the hesitancy in Lauren’s normally vibrant voice. He raised his eyebrows and leaned close, covertly glancing around to make sure they were alone. And except for a few strategically placed agents who had taken up places around the stage, they were. “What about you, kid? Are they going to poke you?” He knew how his young client felt about needles.

“No,” Lauren said quietly, her relief palpable. “I’ll just be there for the show.”

“So why the long face?”

Lauren finished writing her name and her gaze flicked around to make certain Mike was long gone before she spoke. She grabbed another book. “Because I disagree with the entire thing.”

Wayne blinked. “And the President knows this?”

“Sure.” Lauren shrugged a sweater-clad shoulder. “I’m allowed my own opinion, Wayne.” She hesitated over a book whose cover was creased. With a wrinkled nose, she handed it back to Wayne, who nodded his agreement and put it in separate pile.

“So why participate in a publicity stunt at all then?” he questioned curiously, well aware of Lauren’s headstrong tendencies and, frankly, surprised that she would be present to promote something she didn’t believe in. “Getting you to do any promotion at all has been hell. And God knows I tried.”

Lauren sighed. Wayne’s question was a very valid one. Fortunately, however, she had a couple of good answers. “First, I’m not married to you.”

“My loss.”

“True.” She winked. “Second, the bill is already law. Nothing short of repealing it can undo it now, and my kicking up a fuss would only undermine the people whose job it is to enforce and implement it.” She gave him a half smile, trying not to cringe at the hollow sound of her words. “How did that sound?”

“Pretty good,” Wayne allowed, moving his head from side to side. “A few more days’ practice and I’ll actually begin to believe you believe it. No confusing who the politician in your family is.”

Lauren chuckled. “I do believe that. I just don’t like it. But here’s the bottom line: I support my wife, even when we disagree. And this legislation is important to her. I respect that, and her, and if that means that I have to make nice for the cameras every once in a while, then so be it. Ugh!” She held up Wayne’s pen and shook it. “Couldn’t you have stolen a pen from your bank that actually worked?”

Wayne grumbled as he fished another pen out of his pocket. “Here.” He passed it over. “I can’t believe the government not only wants to ban my precious smokes, but now it wants my blood, even if it is just a drop.” He whimpered at the mere thought of having to quit smoking. “Next they’ll outlaw coffee, sex, and good books, and then we all might as well be dead.”

Lauren rolled her eyes at her agent's flare for drama. “Wayne, the DNA registration is voluntary unless you get arrested.”

“It’s voluntary now,” he clarified. “The next logical step is registering everyone at birth, and then everyone period. Besides, do you have any idea how many unpaid parking tickets I have? Arrest is a serious possibility in my future.”

“You could pay the tickets,” Lauren said reasonably, more preoccupied by trying to make her signature legible with a second cheap pen than by their conversation.

Wayne visibly scoffed at the ridiculous idea. “I dunno. There’s just something that makes me uncomfortable about the entire thing. I mean, I trust our current president, but what about the next bozo who gets her job?”

For testing purposes, and via a gallery in the back of the room, Mike switched on the microphones that had been placed in front of each panelist’s seat.

Lauren nodded, agreeing completely. Devlyn was far more moderate than many members of her own party and certainly most Republicans. Who knew what some future administration might use the samples for? Cloning? Behavior modification through gene therapy? It was, she readily admitted, startlingly easy for her creative mind to spin out of control when it came to manufacturing chilling scenarios. Still, the possibilities for abuse were no joke. "The DNA Registration Act is unreasonable and invasive, and I admit that the thought of Big Brother wanting my blood makes me shiver."

Wayne’s eyes suddenly formed twin moons as Lauren’s words rang out around the large room and all eyes, including several news cameras that were busy interviewing Bobby Rivera, trained themselves on the stage.

Lauren’s mouth sagged as a thunderous silence roared in her ears and the blood drained from her face.

Wayne quickly reached down and yanked the cord from the microphone, vowing to kill Mike the first chance he got.

Lauren lifted one of her books and held it in front of her face as though she was reading it, but with her peripheral vision she could still see several Secret Service agents doing their best not to blanch. “Oh, my fucking God,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes closing. “Please tell me what I think just happened did not happen. Please, Wayne.”

Wayne let out a slow, speculative breath. “That depends on whether you think you let the entire room, including that news crew who was taping live, know that you think the President’s pet project is crap.”

Lauren lowered the book in her hands, to see the news crew falling over themselves to scramble out of the room. Every other member of the press was now on his or her cell phone, sharing the joy. “I uh…” She swallowed hard.
 
“I think I need to call the White House.”

“And then escape the country?”

Lauren cringed, her mind reeling over what she’d just done. “Oh, yeah.”

*
 
*
 
*

Dev sat at her desk in the Oval Office with her chin resting on steepled fingers. Her eyes closed momentarily. “She said what?”

The words were uttered so softly, David wasn’t quite sure what Dev had asked. He loosened his tie and crossed the room to take a seat in front of the desk. “What was that, Dev?”

Her jaw worked and this time she spoke with a slightly louder voice. “I want you to repeat exactly what she said.”

David felt a twinge in his stomach. Dev was being eerily quiet and it was nothing short of unnerving. He repeated Lauren’s quoted statement that had already hit the television, radio, and wire services.

Dev let out a shaky breath and made her way to the window. She stood alongside Old Glory, her dark gray pantsuit looking grim next to the flag’s bold colors, and presented David with her back. Her shoulders were rigid as she took a silent sip of coffee.

It didn’t take long for David to be unable to stand the stillness in the room or the thick, cloying tension that hung in the air. “You need to issue a statement to the press. We’ve already got data from an unscientific poll showing support for DNA registrations has dropped from 76 to 38 percent.”

Devlyn could feel frustration laced with hurt welling up within her. Her nostrils flared and her grip on her mug increased until her knuckles stood out in vivid relief against the hot, bright red ceramic.

Outside Dev’s office, Lauren arrived at the same time as Press Secretary Allen, Beth, and her new assistant Carol.
 
They were all panting from their dashes inside the building, and Lauren could feel a bead of perspiration at the nape of her neck as it began slowly trickling down her back.

Liza and Jane were quietly conferring with each other at the head secretary’s desk.

Beth glanced around, expecting to see David waiting for them. “Okay,” she gave up looking. “We’re here.” In a gesture of silent support, she squeezed Lauren’s shoulder.

 
Lauren reached up and patted Beth’s hand affectionately. Message received.

“Where’s the meeting?” Beth asked, still slightly breathless. She passed Jane her briefcase and the older woman locked it in a cabinet behind her desk. Then she slipped out of her coat and gathered the other women’s coats to hang up.

Everyone looked at Liza, who merely threw her hands in the air. “I don’t know yet. Chief of Staff McMillian is briefing the President on the situation now.”

Lauren licked her lips nervously. “Just now?” She’d called the White House over an hour ago to give them as much notice as possible on what was sure to be a firestorm in the press.

“The President was in a meeting with the Secretary of Commerce until five minutes ago, ma’am. She’d asked not to be disturbed.”