Razor Sharp. Fern Michaels
be on our page, too. You know that, Martine.”
“Lizzie, I could go down the tubes with what’s going on. I’ll be the laughingstock of the free world. The first female president, and I have an administration whose members can’t keep their pants zipped. This is going to be a circus. I have to try to do something.”
“Chop them all off at the knees right now. By them, I mean every man within spitting distance of what went on, those that attended that…uh, camp. Go back to all your short lists and work from there. Make everyone involved in the administration resign. Then move on. There’s no way you can contain this. You have to know that, Martine. We both know the media will be on this like fleas on a dog. You have to be aggressive. Whatever you do, don’t go giving speeches, or just slapping any of the ‘boys’ on the wrist, and don’t try to hide anything. That’s the best advice I can give you right at this precise moment.” Lizzie attacked the potato salad, eating right out of the bowl. She couldn’t believe this conversation. And she couldn’t believe she was eating cold fried chicken and potato salad at three o’clock in the morning. She refilled her coffee cup.
“So, what you’re saying is you won’t help me, is that how I’m to read your response, Lizzie?”
Lizzie sighed. She’d been friends with the president for more years than she cared to remember. As women, they’d been through a lot during that time. Together they had been in the box, out of the box, and over the top of the box, always coming out the victors. “What kind of help are you asking for, Martine? If you’re asking me to defend any of those Happy Campers, the answer is no. I’ll tell you something else, I’d represent the madam for free. I think the Vigilantes will be of the same mind. Having said that, I must be dense because I don’t know what it is you think either the Vigilantes or I can do.”
“I know, I know, Lizzie. I’m out of my mind. To be honest, I didn’t know who else to call. I guess I thought you would have a magic bullet of some kind. It just isn’t time for the pardon yet. I’ll keep my word, but I can’t do it yet. Damn it, I just took office. I’ve never, ever broken my word, Lizzie, and you damn well know it. Christ, I’ll probably be impeached within my first 180 days in office. Can you imagine what the guys on the other side of the aisle are going to do with this?”
Until then Martine Connor had sounded like an agitated old friend with a terrible problem, calling for help and advice. Suddenly, she was back to being the first female president of the United States.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie, for waking you and bombarding you with my problem. I understand where you are coming from. I’ll deal with it some way, somehow. Go back to sleep, Lizzie. Good night.”
Like she was really going to be able to go back to sleep. Lizzie wondered if she’d ever be able to sleep again. Right now all she wanted to do was call Cosmo. She looked at the clock. It was a little after midnight in Vegas, and Cosmo slept soundly. Morning would be time enough, as he was an early riser. Cosmo would talk her through her angst then—when he was bright and alert. Simply put, she didn’t want to be responsible for Cosmo losing any sleep.
Lizzie wrapped the platter and bowls of food and put them back into the refrigerator. She couldn’t believe she’d consumed the whole pot of coffee. She consoled herself with the fact that it was a small pot, with only four cups, and somehow the fourth cup always seemed to evaporate.
The kitchen clock over the doorway said it was 3:45. If she took a shower, dressed for the day, she could make a second pot of coffee and not feel guilty. She knew she would need the adrenaline rush coffee gave her when she called Big Pine Mountain. Lizzie looked around to make sure she was leaving her kitchen nice and tidy before she went back upstairs.
Maybe she should call Maggie Spritzer before she called Big Pine Mountain. Or better yet, maybe she should make two phone calls before she called Big Pine Mountain. Calling Jack Emery and Maggie Spritzer was the way to go, she thought. Both lived within a mile of her house, and maybe she could get a better fix on things if she agreed to meet them at one of their houses. She’d offer to bring the donuts and coffee. Now, that was a plan. She’d think it through while she showered. For some reason she did some of her best thinking while standing under a stream of hot water. A good long shower always left her with a clear head, and she usually came up with a solution before she got out to towel off.
She knew for a fact that Jack got up at five o’clock and was usually at Harry Wong’s dojo to work out by six. Maggie liked to be in the office by six o’clock, six thirty at the latest.
Lizzie’s mind raced as she ran through what she had scheduled for the day. She thought about what she could postpone, reschedule, or blow off totally. When she was satisfied in her own mind, she picked up the phone and called her secretary, knowing full well she wouldn’t reach her. Lizzie left a voice mail and knew Sandy would take care of things the way Sandy always took care of her schedule the moment she opened the office.
Cosmo would have to wait.
Chapter 3
Lizzie couldn’t believe her good luck when she found a parking space right in front of Jack Emery’s house in Georgetown. And from the looks of things, Jack was up and moving around inside because the house was lit up from top to bottom. She looked to her left, three houses down, and could see that Maggie Spritzer was up and about, too, her house lit up just the way Jack’s was.
Lizzie was out of her car a moment later, an enormous paper sackful of cinnamon buns and three huge cups of coffee in hand. She set down her purchases on the stoop, called Maggie, and said, “Jack’s house. Now!” Then she rang Jack’s doorbell.
Jack opened the door, took in the sack of sweets and the coffee. He looked at Lizzie, and said, “Oh, shit! What now? It’s only quarter to six!”
“Leave the door open, Maggie is on the way,” Lizzie said, heading toward Jack’s kitchen, where she rummaged for a plate on which to set the buns. “Come on, Jack. You need to smile when you greet your guests. It’s the only way to start the day. And, I brought breakfast! That alone should put a smile on your face.” She was turning around to reach for a stack of napkins when Maggie breezed into the kitchen, her freckled face alight with questions. High heels in hand, she was in her stocking feet.
Maggie reached for a bun, rolled her eyes, and sat down. “Oooh, these are soooo good, and I need this right now. What’s up?” she asked as she happily munched away.
“Honey, if you thought that little gig in Utah was Pulitzer material, wait till you hear what I have to tell you. Right now, right this minute, I can probably give you enough fodder for your paper for the entire year! Banner headlines for a solid month. You are absolutely going to love what I am about to tell you,” Lizzie said, reaching for a bun she knew she didn’t need. But she wanted it, and she never denied herself anything if she could help it. That was what life was all about in her opinion.
“What about me, Lizzie, am I going to love this?” Jack grumbled as he eyed the cinnamon buns and tried to exercise willpower. Finally, unable to resist the sugary treat, he snatched one and shoved it into his mouth. “I hate Starbucks coffee!”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” Maggie said as she swigged at the strong coffee. “Tell us, Lizzie, all the little ‘ifs,’ ‘ands,’ and ‘buts.’ Don’t leave anything out!”
“Guess who called me at three o’clock this morning?”
“Cosmo? He asked you to marry him!” Maggie said.
Lizzie shook her head. Maggie looked crestfallen, as did Lizzie.
“Charles? He’s on his way back, and the girls are planning to flog him?” Jack suggested.
Lizzie shook her head again. “You’ll never guess, so I’m going to tell you.” She paused dramatically. “Martine Connor. President Martine Connor.”
Jack’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “She’s going to pardon the girls! She’s coming through on her promise!”
“No! Not yet. She said she can’t do it