First Lady (17 page)
“Yeah, this is really prestigious,” Lauren said, her face twisting into a sour expression. “Especially at this very moment.”
"Maybe she likes men and women. Why don't you just ask Lauren?" Judd suggested reasonably, his self-disgust leaking into his words. With every passing second he looked more and more like he wanted to bolt from the studio.
The President of the
United States
’ eyes burned holes into her television.
Judd threw a loathing-filled glance at Wendell. “For the record, there is no way she slept with you, Wendell. So just give it up.”
“Thank you!” Lauren shouted, throwing her hands in the air. “Finally.”
Gary
tried to get a few more details out of Judd and grew angry when the architect refused to give up anything juicy. “Did Lauren like to be on top or on the bottom?” he tried to toss in casually and catch Judd off guard.
The audience went wild, hooting and screaming.
Judd just glared.
“Don’t you do it, Judd,” Lauren warned as she bit the inside of her cheek. “Not a word.”
“Top or bottom?”
Gary
persisted.
“Top or bottom?”
He motioned the camera closer.
“Top or bottom?”
Closer still the camera came and Judd began to sweat.
“Top or bottom?”
“Top!”
Judd screamed, unable to take the pressure for another second. “There. Are you happy?”
“You spineless shit.” Lauren sighed.
Carter’s thick eyebrows pulled together. “Not with me.”
“I would have thought she’d be afraid that a Paul-fucking-Bunyon-ape like you would crush her,” Judd shouted, any semblance of calm flying out the window.
Carter jumped out of his seat and several large staff hands had to restrain him.
Gary
smiled happily. “After this break, we have a final, surprise guest and a vote from our panelists.”
“All good things must eventually come to an end.” Beth sat up and padded across the room to Lauren, who was looking out the window. “It really isn’t so bad, Lauren,” she whispered.
“And if it were your sex life up for public discussion?”
“I wouldn’t be handling it as well as you are,” Beth said cheerfully. “But it’s not me. Thank God.”
Lauren ran a nervous hand through wavy blonde hair. “It’s almost over,” she said as much to herself as Beth. “I can take it.”
“Of course you can.” Beth glanced over her shoulder and then back at Lauren, lowering her voice further. “Who is the special guest? Any idea?”
Lauren nodded. “Oh, yeah. They’ve done a pretty good job at hunting down people. So I’m expecting they didn’t miss Man No. 5 from my past.”
“Oooo, is this man worth all the mystery?”
Lauren shrugged, hearing the music for the Gary Kramer Show begin again. “You tell me. C’mon.” They moved over to the bed and sat next to their respective mates. Lauren, burrowed into Dev’s embrace, letting out a deep breath. It’s almost over, she told herself.
“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen.” Over the host’s shoulder Judd, with a stark white bandage taped over his nose, was clearly visible. “Before our last guest, we’ve asked the men on stage to rate their sexual experiences with the future First Lady on a scale from 1 to 5.”
“Jesus Christ!” Lauren exploded. “That’s not fair!”
Billy held up a card that proudly proclaimed a 4.
Carter flipped up his card and showed an 11. Again, everyone gaped at him, causing him to exclaim, “What?” a little defensively.
David looked back over at Lauren. “Are you sure I can’t—”
“David…” Dev warned in a low voice.
Wendell held up a 3, and Billy hit Wendell over the head with his card.
Lauren rolled her eyes.
Judd turned his card over very slowly, looking as though he wanted to die. His read a 3.
“Don’t worry about him, Lauren.” Beth snorted. “You weren’t getting any higher if he wanted to go home to his current wife tonight.”
“Smart man,” David pronounced knowingly.
The audience cheered and Gary Kramer eased back into the scene. “And now for our final guest.
A man from the lovely country of
Ireland
.”
Lauren shook her head. How in the world did they find you, Alex?
A devastatingly handsome man in tight jeans, boots, and a faded denim shirt swaggered on stage. “This is a live television program, right?” he asked in a thick brogue.
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I just have two things to say. First off, Lauren, love, I hope you’re sending me a weddin’ invitation.” He blew a kiss into the camera and Lauren’s face broke into a huge smile. “Second…
Ireland
forever!”
And with that, Alex began ranting about the English and hostile occupations and a host of other things until he was bodily dragged off stage.
The show ended in chaos and Lauren took the remote from Dev’s lifeless hand. She turned off the television, casting the room into the muted light from a single lamp.
Dev licked her lips before speaking. “You never told me that one of your lovers was a black man.”
“I didn’t think it was important,” Lauren said honestly, though she knew her father would go into cardiac arrest if he heard. “Is it?”
David and Dev shared a look. “David—?”
David lifted a hand. “I’ll talk to press secretary Allen in the morning so we can head off any hillbilly fallout.”
*
*
*
DEV SLEPT PEACEFULLY, her arms wrapped tightly around Lauren, who had her face buried in her pillow and was snoring gently. When the alarm sounded, Dev was up like a shot with Lauren close behind.
Lauren’s heart instantly leaped into her throat. She hated that damn thing; it only signaled horrible things.
Dev slipped quickly into the sweats that had been tossed at the side of the bed and hastily pulled her sleep-wrinkled T-shirt out of the waistband, cinching the drawstrings.
Lauren, still partly in a daze, stumbled a little as she moved for her robe. She grabbed it and brought it back with her to bed so she could slip it over her pajamas if need be.
Dev retrieved a pair of socks from the dresser, plopped down on the floor and put them on while giving a voice command. “Videophone, cue on my location.” The lens of the videophone dutifully shifted to where Dev was sitting, putting the bed containing Lauren well out of sight. “Marlowe, access code delta six, omega three, six, five, seven, gamma….” She rattled off a long list of numbers and letters before ordering the alarm to cease.
Lauren watched as a video feed, which was still a lifeless blue square, appeared above the small desk in the corner of the room. She reached for the nightstand and, out of habit, sleepily slipped on her glasses, amazed that Dev could remember all those priority codes when it seemed the world was about to crash down around them.
Dev stood and moved to the chair, the camera following her as the feed from the Situation Room flared to life. “What’s going on?”
“Madam President,” a young Air Force officer, who looked exceptionally pale, addressed her, “Freedom Six is down.”
Freedom Six…Freedom Six… Mini-spy sub, her brain reminded her. Full of hardware. Dev’s eyes widened as the news sank in. “Fuck!” Dev exploded as she pulled a large black box from a hidden compartment in her desk. She lifted the box and allowed its sensor to scan her retina for identification purposes. The lock opened with a quiet snap. “How long?”
“Five minutes, ma’am. Advisors are on their way here now and—”
“So am I.” She pulled two files from the case and reset the lock before tucking it away. “I’ll be there in three.” She considered several calls she needed to make. “Scratch that. Make it 15. End call.”
The link went dead, and Dev ran a hand through her disheveled hair as she padded quickly for the door. She paused, backtracked, and gave Lauren a kiss on the cheek. “Go back to bed.” She cupped her chin with a gentle hand. “You have to sit this one out. It’s highly classified.”
Lauren opened her mouth, then closed it. She knew she shouldn’t be asking, but, with a gulp, she did it anyway. “Are we okay here? Should we get ready to—?”
“No.” Dev cringed inwardly. Stupid. She sighed and let her hand drop from Lauren’s warm skin. “I should have said that before so you wouldn’t be frightened.” Her gaze softened. “You and the children are fine, I promise.”
Lauren let out a relieved breath.
“I’ll be back when I can,” the taller woman whispered softly, smoothing the comforter over Lauren’s thighs.
Lauren nodded, watching in wonder as Devlyn transformed herself from President of the
United States
to lover and back again, all in the blink of an eye.
Dev dashed out the door. Lauren waited until it closed, before sitting down at the desk and opening her computer. She suddenly had the urge to work on Devlyn’s biography.
*
*
*
Dev entered the Situation Room, alert eyes scanning an interior filled with men and women pulling up various maps and information and speaking in hushed, grave tones. “Where are they?” she asked, bringing all eyes to her and a host of military personnel scrambling to their feet, their chairs scraping loudly against the floor.
“Attennnntion!” someone called out, briskly.
“At ease,” she responded automatically. “Where?”
The Secretary of the Navy crossed the room, his puffy eyes still holding traces of sleep at their corners. “They are currently in the
Iran
, Madam President.”
“And exactly how in the hell did they end up there? Their—?”
Before Dev could finish, the door opened. More staff members entered, including the Joint Chiefs, all five of them looking ragged. They obviously didn’t respond any better than Dev to being yanked out of bed at 2 in the morning. Behind them came the directors of the CIA, Homeland Defense, and the National Security Agency, with David bringing up the rear.
“In my office, ladies and gentleman,” Dev ordered and watched as they all filed in ahead of her. She took David by the arm and whispered in his ear. “We’ve got big problems here, David. Freedom Six is apparently trapped in the
“Oh, my God.”
David’s shoulders sagged. There was a long pause. “Do you want me to call him?”
Dev’s stomach was in knots as she considered his question. “Let’s wait and see exactly what we’re dealing with first.”
David discreetly patted her arm, very aware of the deep lines of tension on her face. “I’ll be ready if you need me.”
“I know you will, David.” She reached out and squeezed his hand, then let go, her posture straightening and her voice taking on its normal volume and timbre. “Is everyone else on their way in?”
David tapped a small computer in his hand. “Two still haven’t checked in. Their E.T.A. is six and five minutes respectively.”
Dev nodded grimly and gestured for David to go into the office ahead of her, then followed, the thick wooden door closing and locking behind them.
*
*
*
The light in the room was dim as, 20 minutes later, the Secretary of the Navy was pointing to a location on a holomap. “This is where Freedom Six is trapped, Madam President. For reasons still unknown, their navigation system malfunctioned as they were leaving the
Arabian Sea
sometime last night. By the time the system went back on line, they found themselves in the
“Once they were able, why didn’t they get the hell out of there?” She threw her hands in the air. “They’ve got half a billion dollars of spy equipment on board.”
“They tried, Madam President, but the
Dev rubbed her forehead and leaned against a table. “So they’re stuck like a tractor in the mud?”
The man ground his teeth together, not liking the comparison of one of the Navy’s finest, multi-million dollar vessels with a John Deere. “Unfortunately, ma’am, yes. They’re stuck.”
“Christ.” Dev glanced around at a room of somber faces. “So tell me, is there any way to get them out of there?”
“Not without serious risk to any vessel we send in. As you’re well aware, we currently have hostile relations with nearly every country in that region. If we send in a rescue team, we risk making ourselves known to our enemies.”