Eddie Cooper still hadn’t worked out his mystery lunch plan by that Friday, but it didn’t make any difference, since Fridays were usually tight days for Mark. In addition to his regular meeting with the Advisory Panel, he usually ate lunch at his desk while finishing up and assessing his work for the week, then on to a regularly scheduled press conference at 2 p.m. It was all part of his plan to be more accessible and transparent. But it also gave him a chance to control what the weekend talking heads would be talking about, even before the usual Saturday radio address.
The Advisory Panel was slightly more rowdy than usual, since in celebration of the upcoming March Madness college basketball play-offs – starting that night – Coop had brought in a small plastic basketball hoop on a stand with a host of sponge balls to throw at it. Tanks scored a lucky shot by tossing one over her shoulder. Eli Weatherall was still there, but didn’t bother tossing any balls, although he did keep score. Gwen McKelvey was there and didn’t hit anything.
But things got serious quickly as Augie finished his report with a question for Mark.
“Boss, do you know a lobbyist named Carrie Martindale?”
Mark thought it over. “I don’t think so. Let me e-mail Kent and see if she’s in my people database. Why?”
“She’s been working with the House on some proposals that sound suspiciously like your education initiative. Word’s getting around that she got them from you.”
“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Coop said quietly.
“At least you know the drill.” Mark rattled the keys on his laptop. “I’ll have Johnnie get the memo out.”
“I don’t get it,” said Mackie. “So what if you gave a lobbyist some proposals for an initiative?”
“I’m guessing it’s the implication,” Tanks said. “Less than appropriate means?”
“At the very least making out a romantic attachment, whether one exists or not,” Coop said. “That’s why the policy is not to comment in any way.”
“It’s not the first time it’s happened, nor will it be the last,” Mark said quietly.
Al Eddington sighed. “I don’t know what the issue is. It’s not like you’re married, sir. Why shouldn’t you have an active social life as long as you’re discreet about it?”
“If you could find a woman who’ll put up with the photogs and the tabloid coverage,” Tanks answered.
Augie laughed loudly. “Are you kidding? They’re lining up to sleep with our boss.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly interested in notching marks in available bedposts,” Mark grumbled. “And frankly, given my current work load, I think a social life is going to be moot for the next four years, at least. So for the sake of Ms. – what was her name again?”
“For the sake of Ms. Martindale, let’s remember that policy is no comment even to deny any social life I may or may not have,” Mark said, glancing at his laptop screen. “Kent’s sending me the wrap it up message. Is there anything else?”
“Game time’s at 8,” said Sharon. “Please remember it’s potluck.”
Mark left, hoping fervently that the matter of Carrie Martindale would not become an issue. But it was the second question asked at the press conference.
He stood behind the podium in the press room, blue curtains and White House emblem behind him. This time, the presidential seal was hung on the front of the podium, a dark wood one with an electronic notepad screen embedded in the surface. Kent and Johnnie stood at the side of the press room, which was, as usual, jammed full with the full range of reporters, print, broadcast and even a few bloggers who’d finally earned their press credentials. Mark had a stylus in his hand to work the screen when he needed an additional fact, unless Kent or Johnnie pulled it up for him faster.
“Mr. President, how well do you know lobbyist Carrie Martindale?” reporter Glenn Garrett asked, a short, graying man from a Miami paper, known for his searing commentary and beat-up wardrobe.
“May I ask why you want to know?” Mark asked.
“There is a rumor circulating that Ms. Martindale may have personal access to you that other lobbyists do not have,” Garrett said. “Like in your bedroom.”
Nervous laughter rippled through the room. Everyone knew Garrett had a gift for the crass, although he usually toned it down out of respect for the office.
“I have no comment on any relationship I may or may not have with Ms. Martindale, or any other woman, for that matter.”
Garrett pressed. “Mr. President, you have promised transparency. Why can’t you deny or substantiate the rumor or correct it?”
“Alright, here’s the drill on this and any other similar rumors,” Mark announced. “I will not deny a relationship because there are an awful lot of people who won’t believe me anyway and the woman still gets her name dragged through the mud. I will not substantiate a relationship because that would give rise to even more speculation and attention paid to the woman, who probably doesn’t want it in the first place. The bottom line is, unless you have hard evidence of something seriously improper falling outside the realm of consenting adults, such as money changing hands, then I’m not saying anything one way or the other and I advise any woman connected to me by rumor or by actual acquaintance to do the same.”
Which settled it for the remainder of the press conference. Mark was still feeling rather grumpy about the whole situation, but at least Johnnie had the stationery ready for him when he got back to the Oval Office. He barely had time to get the note written and in an envelope when Kent announced Ms. Wheatly had arrived for a briefing he’d requested earlier.
It was the sort of thing that was important to stay on top of, but not terribly interesting. Mark listened carefully, adding notes to the document Ms. Wheatly had posted to his personal server, but even so, he wasn’t sure whether he was more distracted by his feelings for her or his fear that those feelings would end up ruining her life.
Sharon wrapped up the briefing quickly. There really wasn’t that much to go over and she could tell the president was not entirely listening.
“Of course, if anything changes, I’ll let you know immediately,” she said, closing the lid to her laptop.
“Of course,” Mark replied. He spied the envelope on the desk and picked it up. “Ms. Wheatly, would you mind giving this to Ms. Bouyer, please? She knows what to do with it.”
“Okay.” Sharon took the simple white envelope and felt the heavy bond paper. “What is it?”
Mark sighed. “Something I fervently hope you will never get from me. It’s a note to Ms. Martindale with an apology for the situation and some tips on how to deal with the press.”
Sharon’s eyes rose. “Ah. Precisely the reason you won’t be carving a notch in my bedpost any too soon.”
“I have never met Ms. Martindale, as far as I know,” said Mark, testily. “I meet a lot of people, so it’s possible our paths have crossed, but we do not have a relationship.”
“Sorry.” Sharon backed up a little, surprised by his tone. “I wasn’t implying that you did. But if this is what happens to women you don’t even know…” She shrugged.
“Trust me, Ms. Wheatly, you’re much safer out in the open like this. The person who starts the rumors doesn’t go after people I obviously know since I almost never date women I obviously know.”
“The person who- You mean, you know who’s behind this?”
“Yes. The same person who’s been playing this game since I was first in the state legislature.”
“But it can’t be working. Even the Kelly Won rumors didn’t come close to panning out.”
Mark sighed even more deeply. “But it has ruined a few good relationships, including one I was pretty darned serious about, and that’s the point.”
Mark waited, hoping Sharon wouldn’t press further, but she seemed to understand that wasn’t someplace he wanted to go.
Sharon took a deep breath. “Um, this may not be appropriate, but if not Ms. Martindale, is there anyone else that you’re hiding a relationship with?”
Mark smiled softly. “No. I’m not seeing anyone.”
And found himself biting back that he’d like to be seeing her.
“Well, I probably shouldn’t have been asking,” Sharon said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
