Shoot (12 page)

“But they are his colleagues in the house and senate, governors, his supporters, his people,” she protested.

“At least five of whom are suspects in death threats against him—and who are in this hotel with loaded guns.”

“He has to meet with delegates. He can’t be seen as fearful. Besides, what are we supposed to do about it?”

“Get the guns out.”

“Are you crazy? If the Speaker even suggested that, he would lose the support of…”

“Psychopaths with firearms?”

“I was going to say the NRA, all of the GOP and a lot of voters. It would be political suicide.”

“Better than actual suicide,” I pointed out. “If he gets up to give a speech before these wingnuts, it would be like talking to an auditorium full of Lee Harvey Oswalds, a convention of killers.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Okay,” I said. “Now that you got the long version—here’s the short one. The normal security changes I mentioned, plus no open-carry craziness. The Knickerbocker has to be a gun-free zone. Except for security personnel, of course.”

“I agree with you but what if we can’t do that?”

“We think he should stay away from the crazy armed people—or leave.”

“Are you out of your cotton candy-pickin’ brain?”

“I may be the only sane guy in the building,” I told her, draining my drink. “Too many ways to die here, Tiffany.”

A loud, piercing electronic chirping came from the hallway.

“Oh, my lord and savior. Not again,” Tiffany groaned.

“Is that the fire alarm?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. This is a no-smoking facility. He keeps setting it off, damn his eyes.”

“Chesterfield?”

“Who else? Or one of his other chain-smoking buddies. They’ve been doing this all day. There are signs all over the place but members of Congress don’t think rules apply to them.”

“Congressmen think they’re above the law? Shocking. They’re setting off the smoke detectors in the rooms?” I asked.

“Unfortunately,” she said. “Even if you go in the bathroom and turn on the fan. This is the tenth time they’ve done it. It’s a brand-new hotel and all the smoke detectors work perfectly, thank you. The fire marshals are very unhappy. I’m sorry but I’ve got to deal with this now. You may as well come along.”

Tiffany grabbed her bag and walked out the door, stopping on the way to pick up a gold keycard off the kitchen bar. I followed her a few yards to the room next door, as others also converged on the door, including four plainclothes security guys, security chief Karl Bundt, and several hotel employees in maroon and gold uniforms. Tiffany was about to open the door with the gold keycard, when it swung open.

“Sorry, guys,” Chesterfield said. “I keep forgetting.”

It was obvious he wasn’t sorry and had not forgotten. The Speaker was in shirtsleeves, his tie loosened, his fancy pistol on display on his hip. The fire alarm stopped, making it suddenly obvious that we were all talking loudly. Two concierges with brass nameplates that read B
RYCE
and J
ONATHAN
were assuring Chesterfield that it was okay. The Executive Protection Service security men were talking to two guys in green custodial uniforms and tool belts, one of whom was carrying a step-ladder. Tiffany waded into the fray and gave marching orders to everyone before pulling me inside the room with Chesterfield, security, and the hotel people. It was an even bigger, more luxurious suite than Tiffany’s.

“Mr. Speaker, I’ve informed the EPS agents and the hotel that you cannot use any of the public smoking areas—for security reasons, so adjustments are being made,” Tiffany told him. “Meanwhile, Shepherd here can give you and Karl his threat assessment.”

Great. I was on my own. I told Chesterfield and his security what I had told Tiffany about unobstructed views and public spaces and rounding up bad guys. They seemed bored— until I mentioned the congressmen with Kalashnikovs and suggested they all surrender their hardware or Chesterfield should steer clear of them—or leave.

Karl just laughed. Chesterfield’s eyebrows went up and he took a silent drag on his coffin nail.

“You’re joking, right?” Karl asked.

“No, I’m not,” I told him. “How can you protect this man in an armed camp, where you are completely outgunned?”

“We’ve got this,” Karl protested. “The gun-carrying thing is just a political stunt.”

“Yeah, but with real bullets,” I said, staring directly at Chesterfield. “Some of those people are saying the Speaker should be shot—and they’re roaming the halls with loaded weapons. You’re going to make a speech to a convention hall filled with these people, all locked and loaded. Nothing personal, Karl, but you’ve got shit. No one could protect this man under these conditions. Change the conditions or go somewhere else.”

“Fuck you!” Karl shot back. “I don’t need some amateur telling me my job.”

“Actually, I’ve done this sort of thing before,” I told him. “I never lost anybody yet. Because they listened to me.”

Karl’s rejoinder was a suggestion that I attempt sexual reproduction with myself.

“Now, fellas,” Speaker Chesterfield chuckled. “Let’s not get violent. Shepherd, you’re serious about this?”

“Yessir.”

“You understand that if I suggest disarming my brethren, my enemies will exploit that and I could lose support, and votes, and maybe the election?”

“To win the election, you have to be alive, sir. I’m not suggesting you take their toys away—just that they stop waving them in our faces and creating an impossible security situation,” I told him. “I understand you won’t address the convention for three days, so you have some time. Have somebody else order the guns out—NYPD, for example. You could even lead the protest against the cops, as long as the guns go back in the closet. Or even the bullets. Otherwise, you are under constant risk. Please consider it.”

“Alright, Shepherd, I will,” Chesterfield agreed, offering his hand. “I’ll sleep on it.”

Karl Bundt bristled at being second-guessed by me. When he began to protest that they had it all covered, I just pointed at the big picture window in the living room of the suite, with its lovely view of Manhattan. The window covers, the sheer, translucent one and the heavier blackout curtains, were pulled back to either side. Bundt angrily walked over and pulled the heavy curtains closed.

“I agree with Shepherd’s statement,” Tiffany said, finally taking a side.

“I thought so,” Chesterfield said.

The discussion was over. The handymen disconnected the smoke alarms and left, after the concierges made sure Chesterfield was happy and did not want any more fruit baskets. Bundt took his leave. When it was just Tiffany, Chesterfield and me, the Speaker lit up and took a deep drag. He inhaled a blast of blue smoke toward the smoke alarm on the ceiling. Nothing happened and we all relaxed. Tiffany waved the smoke away with her hand. Chesterfield picked up a cut-crystal glass half-full of ice and Scotch and took a belt. Mr. Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.

“That’s better,” he said. “Good job, kids. I’ll text Bob and Abner.”

In response to my quizzical look, Tiffany explained that they were at least two other congressional chain-smokers who had been causing the same problems all day by setting off smoke alarms. The handymen would be busy all night.

“Don’t start any forest fires,” I jokingly warned Chesterfield.

He chuckled. “Your security recommendations have made it possible for me to engage in my nasty habit with impunity in the comfort and safety of my room, Shepherd. I am indebted to you,” he said.

“Well, that was not our reason,” I smiled. “I’m just trying to keep you alive, sir.”

“A noble cause and I thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Please keep those drapes closed, okay?”

“I will. That would allow me to parade around naked as well.”

“A bonus, sir.”

“Just kidding. I have some informal meetings tonight and a few ideas on how to make former Governor Dodge go so loco she’ll shove her head up her twat and yodel ‘Dixie.’ I think I’ll do all of the meetings here, not downstairs, now that the room has been made safe.”

“Whatever you like, Mr. Speaker,” Tiffany said. “Security will like that. They can just guard the elevator and stairs and the hallway. I’ll inform everyone to come here, instead,” she said, her thumbs flying over her iPhone. “Will you need me for those meetings now?”

“Nope. Unless you like Bob pinching your butt when he gets loaded?”

“No thank you, I’ll speak to you later. Call if you need me.”

“Sure,” Chesterfield waved his cigarette. “You two run along.”

Tiffany went into robot mode for a few minutes at her desk in her suite, as I watched. She made calls, texts, emails. Food arrived at nine. Two steak dinners. She poured more cold arak for us and headed for the door.

“Please wait here. I’ve got to deal with a minor issue. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please don’t let your food get cold.”

I ate my steak and mashed potatoes in half an hour, washed down with some more arak. Mary Catherine called me back.

“Shepherd,” Mary Catherine groaned. “I was hoping you had lost my number.”

“Sorry, I need some help.”

“Don’t say any more. I’ll meet you in the morning. You know where.”

She hung up. I dialed Jane. I wanted to tell her it was my birthday. I could hear barking.

“Hi, Jane.”

“Hi, Shepherd. I’m really busy tonight. I’ve got two emergencies and the Catmobile is out on calls.”

“You okay?”

“We have to talk,” she said. “I think… I think it might not be a bad idea if we… slowed things down for a while.”

“What? Okay… What does that mean?”

“I… I’m not sure. A break for a few days, maybe. I can’t talk right now. You’re going to be at Amy’s tonight? Can we talk tomorrow? I have to go.”

“Okay, Jane. Wait, I…”

She was gone. Damn. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. I was confused, hurt, pissed off. I reached for my arak. Jane was not the first girlfriend to break up with me by phone or text. It was a tradition. I was with Jane a month and that wasn’t even close to the record for short romances. I thought we were different.

Tiffany breezed back in a few minutes later, smelling of cigars and whiskey.

“Sorry it took so long. The head of security had to be stroked but Karl agreed, no more clear windows, no more open air events,” she said, triumphantly.

“Good. Okay, thanks for dinner. I’ll take off and get back to work.”

“No way. We have a lot to arrange. If the Speaker agrees with you and we have to ban the guns, we have to figure a way to have someone else do it, so my boss’s fingerprints aren’t on it. Just hold on while I change. Be right back,” she said, pulling her hair loose so it fell over her shoulders. She left the room and closed the bedroom door. I heard a shower running.

I called Amy and told her that some of our suggestions had already been acted upon but Chesterfield was sleeping on the gun ban request and we were trying to come up with a political cover plan. I also told her about my meeting with Mary Catherine in the morning. Amy told me she was on another line and would see me later.

What was Tiffany doing behind that closed door? Was she hitting on me or was I a male egomaniac? The worst thing I could do now was drink more. I poured another arak and tossed it down easy. Buzzed, I took out my phone.

“What can I help you with, Shepherd?” Siri asked.

“Siri, should I go for it?”

“I’m sure I don’t know, Shepherd.”

I was sure I detected disapproval in Siri’s terse tone.

When Tiffany came out, the stilettos were gone but she stomped me. She was shorter, barefoot, wearing only a giant Chesterfield t-shirt that came to her knees and hung off one shoulder, exposing amazingly smooth, tanned skin. She attacked her rare steak hungrily with knife and fork. Every time she leaned over her plate, I tried not to notice she was completely naked underneath the goddamn shirt. She looked at me and smiled innocently. It blew me away. She took me by the hand and led me to the couch.

“What time is it?” I asked her.

“After midnight,” she replied. “Happy Fourth of July.”

“It’s my birthday,” I told her. “I’m thirty today.”

I realized I had never told Jane my birthday but here I was, telling a stranger.

“Happy birthday, Shepherd,” Tiffany said, moving closer, smelling like flammable candy. “What do you want for your birthday?”

I couldn’t think of a single lie and she grinned wider.

“What was that thing you said about never doing anything for the first time?” she whispered, her hand soft on my face.

I had stopped drinking by the time Tiffany made her move but it was too late.

I was fucked.

I woke up on my birthday in my birthday suit, to the tune of “Hail to the Chief” playing on Tiffany’s phone. She answered the phone and slipped out of bed, striding gloriously nude around the room. Tiffany was something to look at. I was a Yankee Doodle Dandy filled with patriotic lust. This was hands-down the best rebound sex in history.

Then the triple trolls of guilt, fear and doubt arrived with a hangover for me.

What if Jane found out about Tiffany and me? Was Jane done with me for good? Would she take me back if she knew about Tiffany? What if she didn’t? Was my new buddy, Percy Chesterfield, also sleeping with Tiffany? Would he still like me if he knew where I had spent last night? Would my new boss, Amy? Would the Speaker agree to banning guns from the convention? I didn’t try asking Siri any of the questions. I looked at the bedside clock: 7:02 a.m.

“That was the FBI,” Tiffany explained, slipping on her too-big t-shirt. “They and the NYPD raided that Aryan Purity Nation cell in Brooklyn. They got a lot of guns but no bad guys yet. They also picked up Clayton Littleton on a weapons charge.” She giggled and turned on the flatscreen wall TV to FAX News. Predictably, there was nothing about Littleton’s arrest on the channel where he was a paid pundit. Tiffany switched to CNN, who were doing the Littleton story big.

BREAKING NEWS! FAX TV FIGURE ARRESTED ON GUN CHARGES.