I stay focused on Elliot, but out of the corner of my eye I see the two women sit back, both of them looking irritatedly awe-struck.
Yeah, exactly.Quitethe combo of emotions.
After a moment of Elliot making appropriate noises, he says, “I’m sorry, Madam President. Please give me just a moment.” He looks at me. “I need to deal with this right now. My apologies, but I have to leave. Please, all three of you, stay and finish dinner. I insist. Grace, whatever it is you were saying, please tell Jordan. Jordan, you can fill me in later.”
I nod, and we all stand as he stands. “Certainly, Vice President Woodley,” I say. Before the women can react, Elliot’s gone, still on the phone, and I ask one of the agents to have his dinner packed and sent after him.
Which is an act, because Elliot’s meal should already be in a take-out container and waiting for him in the SUV in a thermal bag to keep it hot. I prearranged with the agents to have his main course transported, instead of being brought to the table. They also know the call is a ruse to get VPOTUS out of there. They’ll leave two agents behind with me, one inside, and a driver in a car, to transport me once I’m finished.
God, I love the Secret Service.
Elliot’s departure leaves me standing there with the two women.
“Now, where were we?” I say as our meals are brought out to us exactly on schedule, and we retake our seats.
They exchange an irritated expression, but Grace Martin speaks first once the waiter leaves us. Her smile doesn’t fool me in the slightest. “Can we get a do-over? I’d rather talk to him in person about this.”
“I’m sorry, no. As I told Stella this afternoon, his schedule isn’t open.” I make a show of glancing around before I lean in and change my tone from official to conspiratorial and hold my hand up to my mouth. “Look, I’m sorry about this. It’sreallythe only time he had on the schedule, and it only opened up by chance. I gave you two first crack at it because I know you’ve been wanting to talk to him. I thought he’d be able to have a few uninterrupted hours with you. Just tellme, okay? IpromiseI’ll take it to him.”
Stella looks dubious. I can see from the way Grace Martin’s gaze narrows that she’s not sure she trusts me.
Fair enough. She shouldn’t trust me, and I absolutely donottrust her.
“I want to discuss his future,” she says. “And I want him to meet these people. They’re eager to talk to him.Alone. Not exactly something I can pass through a third-party.”
“Tsk.” I sit back and pick up my fork and let the official tone return to my voice. “I can’t take something to him if I don’t know what it is. Depending on what happens in November, I might be able to clear some time on his calendar then, or maybe not until after January. You’ll have to give me details. If you sell me, I’ll sell him.”
Stella practically growls. “You son of a—”
Grace touches her arm. “Stop,” she whispers, glancing around. Once she realizes no one’s paying any attention to us now that the vice president has literally left the building, she lowers her voice to a dark whisper. “You may not understand this, but there are large, quiet,oldgroups of people who have common purposes and who want what’s best for this country. They can propel him to the presidency with hardly any effort at all. All they want is a seat at the table.”
I lean in, also whispering. “Then start talking and convince me.”
She finally gives me a few names and hints around at the “issues” they want Elliot’s assurances about. The standard Republican hot-button topics: abortion, conservative judges, deregulation, military expansion—you know the drill. They’re hoping that Elliot, a veteran and a former Republican who’s now a moderate Democrat from a relatively conservative region, will help them in exchange for their backing.
I hear her out and pretend to be listening. Meanwhile, I’m recording this whole conversation with my personal cell, which is in my shirt pocket. It’s been recording since we arrived at the restaurant. No, I can’t legally release the recording, but if I have it, at least I’ll have proof, if I ever need it.
By the time she finishes her pitch, we’re nearly done eating and she sits back. “What do you think?”
I nod. “I’ll take it to him.”
Stella looks shocked. “You will?”
“Yeah. I can’t guarantee anything other than that. You also know how he feels about campaign finance sources. Don’t be shocked if he says no.But, I promise I will tell him I don’t see any reason why he can’t meet a few people and listen. Understand that he’s going to want me in the room, though, at the very least. He’s already told me that he will never take meetings that aren’t NatSec in nature without at least me in there with him.”
Can I brag about how my own inner sadist giggles when both women’s hopes obviously deflate?
Irritation once again makes Grace snappish. “We can’t have time alone with him?”
“Look, I don’t know what special powers you think I have, but the vice president gets final say over who he talks to. Absolutely, if I think something’s wrong, I will advise him not to take the meeting or call. But I cannot force him to take one I recommend, no matter how strongly I believe in it.”
Grace Martin tosses her napkin onto the table in disgust and stands. “Well, this was a wasted evening then, wasn’t it?”
I sit back, offering her a conciliatory smile as I hold up both hands. “My apologies. Again, as you can see, I’m not omnipotent. I have dozens of people far more important than either of you who would have happily shanked you both for a chance to have dinner with him like this. Yet despite knowing neither of you are fond of me, I still gave it to you. Just keep that in mind.”
She snatches her purse from the floor as Stella rises to join her. “Send the bill to my office.”
“No need, Congresswoman. The vice president is paying for dinner tonight. His sister and her friend. Personal expense.”
