Power Play
Page 39
Day speared a piece of lobster, waved it at her.
“Tell me when you can, okay? You know I’ll worry until you do. There’s been so much happening, all the talk about your mom; you’d swear people had half a brain. Fact is, she’s been a great ambassador, people really like and respect her, and she’s done absolutely nothing wrong. People are morons.
“I had a prospective client a couple of days ago. You want to know how he tried to break the ice, joke around? About whether the president and your mother were lovers.”
“What did you do?”
“I threw my napkin down on the table, told him we couldn’t do business, and I was out of there. What do you think I’d do? Kiss him?”
Day had always been in her corner, and in her mom’s corner as well. She reached over and took his hand. “You’re a prince, Day. You know I’ve always thought that; it’s time I said it.”
He clasped her hand. “It’s a nice beginning. I wouldn’t mind if you keep saying it for a very long time. I only wish I could do something that really mattered to help her.”
“Just being who you are and what you are, it’s enough. Do you know, while you were talking I remembered when I hurled on you at that picnic when I was four years old—”
“And your mom scrubbed my shirt so hard with a wet tablecloth I was bruised for a week.”
“And dad wouldn’t stop laughing.”
They laughed, drawing benign attention.
He gave her a twisted smile. “I remember when you were maybe five years old and you had your skinny little arms around your dad’s waist, hanging on for dear life when he gunned the engine of that big Kawasaki Ninja of his and took off; your mom was standing there on the front porch, yelling at him to slow down, was he crazy? But you, Perry, you were laughing, your face pressed against your father’s back.”
That beautiful stark memory—she felt the joy of those moments again, the exhilaration. Tears stung her eyes. Her father had been gone five years now, and the Redskins had had two other team doctors since his death. She was still riding her motorcycle, but she was no longer clutching his back, shouting with the joy of it.
She felt the tears sounding in her voice. “Good times. I think I was six or seven.”
“I remember thinking it was crazy he was taking you to the stadium to watch the Redskins practice, and on the back of his motorcycle, of all things. You were a little girl.”
“Why would you say that, Day?” For a moment, there was a look of pain on his face.
“Your dad never took me with him, and I was a boy and my dad had walked out.”
What was all this about? She said, her head cocked to one side, “I honestly don’t think it occurred to him, Day. Why didn’t you simply ask to go with us? He liked you, he would have said yes gladly.”
He shook his head, as if surprised at himself, and looked down at his plate. “You’re right, it’s ancient history.”
He looked up at her again. “Your mother is very well liked, Perry. This will all turn out right, you’ll see.”
“Tell me, Day, do you think my mom was at fault for George McCallum’s death?”
He drank some wine. “I don’t know what happened, no one knows. But the fact is your mom’s one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met. She wouldn’t do anything purposefully to hurt someone, particularly someone she loved.”
She wanted to kiss him. “I guess someone doesn’t agree with you,” she said.
Day shook his head. “And that must be why the FBI is all over this. To protect your mom.”
“Yes,” she said. Why couldn’t she keep her lips zipped? But she knew. It was a matter of trust, of lifelong affection. She was twenty-eight years old. That was a whole lot of years of trust. She’d trust him with her life, her mother’s life as well.
She said, “I don’t want dessert. Do you think we could leave now? Believe me, it’s been a very long day and I’m nearly ready to fall on my face.”
“I guess that means you’re not going to give up your sources about Tebow’s girlfriend tonight?” He saw her surprise and patted her hand. “Good job, Perry. You’ve got the universe quoting your blog. I’ll bet the Post is selling out newspapers faster than they can print them. You need to ask for a raise.”
They were still talking about her story in his new BMW on their way to her condo. She said, “What about you, Day? You told me you walked out on a prospective client a couple of days ago. Do you have any other irons in the fire?”
“Tell me when you can, okay? You know I’ll worry until you do. There’s been so much happening, all the talk about your mom; you’d swear people had half a brain. Fact is, she’s been a great ambassador, people really like and respect her, and she’s done absolutely nothing wrong. People are morons.
“I had a prospective client a couple of days ago. You want to know how he tried to break the ice, joke around? About whether the president and your mother were lovers.”
“What did you do?”
“I threw my napkin down on the table, told him we couldn’t do business, and I was out of there. What do you think I’d do? Kiss him?”
Day had always been in her corner, and in her mom’s corner as well. She reached over and took his hand. “You’re a prince, Day. You know I’ve always thought that; it’s time I said it.”
He clasped her hand. “It’s a nice beginning. I wouldn’t mind if you keep saying it for a very long time. I only wish I could do something that really mattered to help her.”
“Just being who you are and what you are, it’s enough. Do you know, while you were talking I remembered when I hurled on you at that picnic when I was four years old—”
“And your mom scrubbed my shirt so hard with a wet tablecloth I was bruised for a week.”
“And dad wouldn’t stop laughing.”
They laughed, drawing benign attention.
He gave her a twisted smile. “I remember when you were maybe five years old and you had your skinny little arms around your dad’s waist, hanging on for dear life when he gunned the engine of that big Kawasaki Ninja of his and took off; your mom was standing there on the front porch, yelling at him to slow down, was he crazy? But you, Perry, you were laughing, your face pressed against your father’s back.”
That beautiful stark memory—she felt the joy of those moments again, the exhilaration. Tears stung her eyes. Her father had been gone five years now, and the Redskins had had two other team doctors since his death. She was still riding her motorcycle, but she was no longer clutching his back, shouting with the joy of it.
She felt the tears sounding in her voice. “Good times. I think I was six or seven.”
“I remember thinking it was crazy he was taking you to the stadium to watch the Redskins practice, and on the back of his motorcycle, of all things. You were a little girl.”
“Why would you say that, Day?” For a moment, there was a look of pain on his face.
“Your dad never took me with him, and I was a boy and my dad had walked out.”
What was all this about? She said, her head cocked to one side, “I honestly don’t think it occurred to him, Day. Why didn’t you simply ask to go with us? He liked you, he would have said yes gladly.”
He shook his head, as if surprised at himself, and looked down at his plate. “You’re right, it’s ancient history.”
He looked up at her again. “Your mother is very well liked, Perry. This will all turn out right, you’ll see.”
“Tell me, Day, do you think my mom was at fault for George McCallum’s death?”
He drank some wine. “I don’t know what happened, no one knows. But the fact is your mom’s one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met. She wouldn’t do anything purposefully to hurt someone, particularly someone she loved.”
She wanted to kiss him. “I guess someone doesn’t agree with you,” she said.
Day shook his head. “And that must be why the FBI is all over this. To protect your mom.”
“Yes,” she said. Why couldn’t she keep her lips zipped? But she knew. It was a matter of trust, of lifelong affection. She was twenty-eight years old. That was a whole lot of years of trust. She’d trust him with her life, her mother’s life as well.
She said, “I don’t want dessert. Do you think we could leave now? Believe me, it’s been a very long day and I’m nearly ready to fall on my face.”
“I guess that means you’re not going to give up your sources about Tebow’s girlfriend tonight?” He saw her surprise and patted her hand. “Good job, Perry. You’ve got the universe quoting your blog. I’ll bet the Post is selling out newspapers faster than they can print them. You need to ask for a raise.”
They were still talking about her story in his new BMW on their way to her condo. She said, “What about you, Day? You told me you walked out on a prospective client a couple of days ago. Do you have any other irons in the fire?”
