Journey (2 page)

“When will that be?” she asked with renewed interest.
She was not only his wife, but had become a skilled reporter, and she loved what she did, the people she worked with, and the newsroom. She felt as though she had her fingers on the pulse of the nation.

“I'm not sure yet. I'm having lunch with him on Saturday at Camp David.”

“It must be important.” But it all was. Anything that involved the President was potentially a big story.

They drove the short distance to R Street, chatting about the party. And Jack asked her if she'd seen Bill Alexander.

“Only from a distance. I didn't realize he was back in Washington.” He had been in seclusion for the past six months, after the death of his wife in Colombia the year before. It had been a terrible story, which Maddy remembered all too clearly. She had been kidnapped by terrorists, and Ambassador Alexander had handled the negotiations himself, awkwardly apparently. After collecting the ransom, the terrorists had panicked and killed her. And the Ambassador had resigned shortly after.

“He's a fool,” Jack said without preamble or pity for him. “He never should have tried to handle it himself. Anyone could have predicted that would happen.”

“I don't suppose he believed that,” Maddy said quietly, glancing out the window.

And a moment later, they were home, and she and Jack walked up the stairs as he took his tie off.

“I have to be in the office early tomorrow,” she said, as he unbuttoned his shirt in their bedroom, and she slipped her dress off and stood before him in nothing more than pantyhose and her high-heeled silver sandals. She had a spectacular body which was never
wasted on him, nor had it been in her previous life, though the two men she had been married to were extraordinarily different. The one brutal and unkind and rough with her, indifferent to her feelings, or cries of pain when he hurt her, the other so smooth, so careful, so seemingly respectful of her. Bobby Joe had once broken her arms, and she had broken her leg when he pushed her down the stairs. That had been right after she had met Jack, and he had been in a jealous rage about him. She had sworn to him that she wasn't involved with Jack, and she hadn't been then. He was her employer and they were just friends, the rest had come later, after she left Knoxville and moved to Washington to work for him at his cable network. Within a month of her arrival in Washington she and Jack had become lovers, but her divorce was already in the works then.

“Why are you going in early?” Jack asked over his shoulder as he disappeared into his black marble bathroom. They had bought the house five years before, from a wealthy Arab diplomat. There was a full gym and a swimming pool downstairs, beautiful reception rooms Jack liked to use to entertain, and all six of the house's bathrooms were marble. The house had four bedrooms, a master, and three guest rooms.

There was no plan to turn any of the guest rooms into a nursery. Jack had made it very clear to her right from the beginning that he didn't want children. He hadn't enjoyed the two he had when they were growing up, and he had no desire to have more, in fact he absolutely forbade it. And after a brief period of mourning for the babies she would never have, at Jack's insistence, Maddy had had her tubes tied. She thought it was better in some ways, she had had half a dozen abortions
during her years with Bobby Joe, and she wasn't even sure anymore if she could have a normal baby. It seemed easier to give in to Jack's wishes and not take any chances. He had given her so much, and wanted such great things for her, she could see his point that children would only be an obstacle she'd have to overcome, and a burden on her career. But there were still times when she regretted the irreversibility of her decision. At thirty-four, a lot of her friends were still having babies, and all she had was Jack now. She wondered if she'd regret it even more when she grew older and had no grandchildren, or children of her own. But it was a small price to pay for the life she shared with Jack Hunter. And it had been so important to Jack. He had insisted on it.

They met again in their large comfortable bed, and Jack pulled her close, as she cuddled up to him, and rested her head on his shoulder. They often lay there for a while before they went to sleep, talking about what had happened that day, the places they'd been, the people they'd met with, the parties they'd been to. As they did now, and Maddy tried to guess what the President was up to.

“I told you, I'll tell you when I can, stop guessing.”

“Secrets drive me crazy,” she giggled.

“You drive me crazy,” he said, turning her gently toward him, and feeling the satin of her flesh beneath the silky nightgown. He never tired of her, she never bored him, in bed or out, and he took pleasure in knowing that she was his, body and soul, not only at the network, but in their bedroom. Most particularly there, he had an insatiable appetite for her, and at times she felt as though he were going to devour her. He loved everything about
her, knew everything she did, liked knowing where she was every moment of the day, and what she was doing. And he had a lot to say about it. But all he could think of now was the body he could never get enough of, and as he kissed her and grabbed her hard, she moaned softly. She never resented or objected to the way he took her, or how often. She loved the fact that he wanted her so much, and it pleased her to know that she still excited him so intensely. It was all so different than it had been with Bobby Joe. Bobby had wanted nothing more than to use her and to hurt her. What excited Jack was beauty and power. Having “created” Maddy made him feel powerful, and “possessing” Maddy in bed nearly drove him out of his senses.

Chapter 2

A
S SHE ALWAYS DID
, Maddy got up at six o'clock, and slipped quietly into her bathroom. She showered and dressed, knowing that they would do her hair and makeup, as they did every day, at the network. And when Jack came down to the kitchen at seven-thirty freshly combed and shaven, in a dark gray suit and starched white shirt, he found her fresh-faced, in a dark blue pantsuit, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper.

She looked up, when she heard him come in, and commented on the latest scandal on the Hill. One of the Congressmen had been arrested the night before, for consorting with a hooker. “You'd think they'd know better,” she said, handing him the
Post
, and reaching for
The Wall Street Journal.
She liked reading the papers before she got to the newsroom. She usually read
The New York Times
on the way to work, and if she had time, the
Herald Tribune.

They left for work together at eight o'clock, and Jack
asked her if she was working on a story that was taking her in so early. Sometimes she didn't go in till ten. She usually worked on stories all day and taped interviews during lunch. She didn't go on the air until five o'clock, and then again at seven-thirty She was through by eight, and when they were going out for the evening, she changed in her dressing room at the network. It was a long day for both of them, but they liked it.

“Greg and I are working on a series of interviews of women on the Hill. We want to figure out who's doing who, and when. We already have five women lined up. I think it'll be a good story.” Greg Morris was her co-anchor, a young black reporter from New York, who had worked with her for the past two years, and they were fond of each other, and loved working together.

“Don't you think you should do the story on your own? Why do you need Greg to do it with you?”

“It keeps things interesting,” she said coolly, “the male perspective.” She had her own ideas about the show, which often differed from her husband's, and sometimes she didn't like telling him too much about what she was doing. She didn't want him to interfere with her stories. Sometimes, it was a challenge being married to the head of the network.

“Did the First Lady talk to you last night about your being on her Commission on Violence Against Women?” Jack asked casually, as Maddy shook her head. She had heard vague rumors about the commission the First Lady was forming, but she hadn't mentioned it to Maddy.

“No, she didn't.”

“She will,” Jack said smoothly. “I told her I thought you'd love to be on it.”

“I would, if I have time. It depends how much of a commitment it involves.”

“I told her you'd do it,” Jack said bluntly. “It's good for your image.”

Maddy was silent for a moment, as she stared out the window. They were being driven to work by Jack's driver, he had been with Jack for years, and they both trusted him completely. “I'd like a chance to make that decision for myself,” she said quietly. “Why did you tell her I'd do it?” It made her feel like a kid when he did that. He was only eleven years older than she, but sometimes he treated her as though she were a child, and he the father.

“I told you. It will be good for you. Consider it an executive decision by the head of the network.” Like so many others. She hated it when he did that, and he knew it. It truly annoyed her. “Besides, you just said you'd like to.”

“If
I have time. Let me decide that.” But they were at the network by then, and Charles was opening the car door for them. There was no time to pursue the conversation further. And Jack didn't look as though he intended to anyway. He had obviously made his mind up. He gave her a quick kiss as they said good-bye. He disappeared into his private elevator, and after passing through security and the metal detector, Maddy took the elevator up to the newsroom.

She had a glassed-in office there, a secretary and research assistant, and Greg Morris had a slightly smaller office very near her. He waved as he saw her walking swiftly into her office, and he came in with a mug of coffee in his hand a minute later.

“Good morning … or is it?” He looked her over
carefully, and thought he detected something as she glanced at him. Though it was hard to see it unless you knew her well, inside she was seething. Maddy didn't like to get angry. In her past life, anger had meant danger, and she never forgot that.

“My husband just made an ‘executive decision.’” She glanced at Greg with unveiled annoyance. He was like a brother to her.

“Uh-oh. Am I getting fired?” He was teasing, his ratings were nearly as high as hers, but you were never entirely sure where you stood with Jack. He was capable of making sudden, seemingly irrational, nonnegotiable decisions. But as far as Greg knew, Jack liked him.

“Nothing that dramatic, thank you.” Maddy was quick to put his mind to rest. “He told the First Lady I'd be on her new Commission on Violence Against Women, without even asking me about it.”

“I thought you liked that kind of thing,” Greg said, sprawling in the chair across her desk from her, as she sat down primly in her seat.

“That's beside the point, Greg. I like to be asked. I'm a grown-up.”

“He probably figured you'd want to do it. You know how dumb men are. They forget to go through all the steps between A and Z, and just make assumptions.”

“He knows how much I hate that.” But they both also knew that Jack made a lot of decisions for her. It was the way things had always been between them. He said he knew what was best for her.

“I hate to be the one to tell you, but we just got word of another ‘executive decision’ he must have made yesterday. It just filtered down from Mount Olympus before you got here.” Greg looked less than pleased as he
said it. He was a good-looking African-American man with a casual style, and long, graceful limbs. As a kid, he had wanted to be a dancer, but had wound up in news instead, and loved it.

“What are you talking about?” Maddy looked worried.

“He took a whole segment out of the show. Our political commentary on the seven-thirty.”

“He did
what?
Why? People love that. And we like to do it.”

“He wants more hard news on the seven-thirty They said it was a ratings-based decision. They want us to try it this way.”

“Why didn't he talk to us about it?”

“When does he ever ask us, Maddy? Come on, kiddo, you know him a lot better than I do. Jack Hunter makes his own decisions, without consultation from the on-air talent. That's hardly a news flash.”

“Shit.” She looked angry as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “That's nice. So no editorials at all now? That's just plain stupid.”

“I thought so too, but Father Knows Best. They said they might put it back in on the five o'clock if people complain about it. But not for the moment.”

“Great. Christ, you'd think he would have warned me.”

“The way he usually does, right, Pocahontas? Give me a break. Let's face it, we just work here.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She steamed silently about it for a minute and then got down to work with Greg, figuring out who they were going to interview first, among the list of Congresswomen they had already selected. It was nearly eleven before they finished, and Maddy went
out to do some errands and grab a sandwich. She was back at her desk at one, working on the Congressional interviews again. She stayed at her desk all afternoon, and at four she walked into hair and makeup and met Greg there, and they chatted about the stories that had broken that afternoon. So far, there was nothing important.

“Have you ripped Jack's head off yet about our editorials?” He grinned at her.

“No, but I will later, when I see him.” She never saw him in the course of the day, although they usually left work together, unless he had somewhere to go after work that didn't include her, and then she went home alone, and waited for him.

The five o'clock news went well, and she and Greg hung out and talked, as they always did, while waiting to go back on at seven-thirty At eight o'clock they were finished, and Jack appeared as she came off the set. She said goodnight to Greg, took off her mike, picked up her handbag, and left with Jack a minute later. They had promised to drop by at a cocktail party in Georgetown.

“What the hell happened to our editorials?” she asked him as they sped toward Georgetown.