Chapter 63

Chapter 63—Allison prepares 

to meet with Bob

11:09 a.m., Friday, December 30

Once Allison had closed the door to her apartment, Roger Minsk arose from his chair outside her door, and began walking around in the narrow confines of the corridor. He removed a throw-away cell phone from his jacket pocket. He double checked to be sure he was using the right phone, and then he dialed a number.
“It’s me,” he said, after a male voice answered.
“… She’s gonna be fine. She just talked with her husband. They’re meeting.”
“… In about an hour, … But you know how he is—always late.”
“… He’s gonna pull up. Allison will ride in his car, and I will trail with his people. Total, two cars.”
“… I have no idea where we’re going, neither does Allison. Hell, I’ll bet her husband hasn’t decided that yet. ... We’ll know when we get there.”
“… I wasn’t there. She called me in at the end. I just heard one side of the end of it.”
“… I don’t think anyone has her phone. It’s the best we’ve got. But I really don’t think they discussed anything. That’s what the meeting’s about.”
“… I’m sure I won’t be there. When we were in the White House, we would do it like this. The President would pick up whoever it was he wanted to meet with, and they would go someplace, … different every time, and they would talk in his car. He always was most comfortable in his car. I’m sure that’s how this will be. … Just like Meatloaf, I guess. You know, Bat Outta Hell.”
Roger paused for a moment, listening intently to the party at the other end. Then he said, “I thought it went pretty much as expected.”
“… They ate it up, don’t you think? That’s all we’ll see on the news this weekend. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“… Then you would consider it a success?”
“… Even that last question. Perfect ending. Her face was shining. I’ve never seen her sweat before.”
“… We’ll talk later.”
With that Roger hung up the phone, and waited for Allison to call him in.
Inside the apartment, Allison was preparing to meet with her husband. Even though they no longer shared the same bed, she still loved him. She wanted to look her best today. It had been weeks since they had last talked, and longer than that since they met.
She walked into her bathroom, looked in the mirror. “I look horrible,” she muttered. She began washing off the makeup she was wearing for the cameras. While it gave her color under the lights, she hated how it made her look in natural light. “I’m going to need some help here,” she said, picking up a cell phone. “Lesley, can you get in here now, I’m meeting Bob and I need your help.”
“… Right now! I need you right now!”
When Allison had kicked everyone out of her apartment, Lesley had walked across the street with Janet, and was sipping a latte with her. They knew that when Allison got like that, it might last a few minutes, or she might stay mad all day. In any case, they knew that they should stay close enough to be available, yet far enough removed to be safe.
Officially, Lesley’s duties did not include hairdressing and makeup. But she had a gift with those sorts of things. At Bryn Mawr half the ladies sought out Lesley for her opinion before a party, or even a date. At the time, Lesley thought it a bit tedious, but as it turned out, it was that talent that endeared her to Allison. Lesley could always make her boss look her best. And that’s the look Allison was after today.
“Sorry,” Lesley said to her friend, as she got up from the table. “The boss needs me. Must be she’s meeting with somebody special.”
“Her husband, you think?” Janet asked.
“That’s probably correct. She doesn’t usually get over these things so fast. Could be she’s playing dress up for him.”
“She’ll be calling me, in a minute. I’m gonna hide out till she does.”
“Good idea.”
“See ya later.”
“See ya.” Lesley smiled and gave a girly wave to the girls behind the counter. They all knew who she was, and who she worked for. In that little coffee shop, Lesley and Janet were rock stars.
“Roger, would you come in and talk to Bob?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Roger replied, as he arose from where he was sitting and entered the apartment.
Even though she couched it as a question, it was anything but. Had Roger responded any differently, or arose from his chair more slowly, or been engaged on his cell and ignored her “request,” her choice of words would have been much different.
“He’s waiting to talk to you.”
As he walked over to pick up the phone, Roger observed just how beautiful Allison looked, but he knew better than to comment. “Lesley worked her magic again,” he was thinking. “Al must still love that guy.”
As he placed the phone to his ear, he could hear the former President talking to someone else, even though Bob apparently was trying muffle his words with his hand. “Don’t argue with me. Rog is going to ride with you, period. Got that?”
Roger, not wanting to embarrass his former boss, rattled the phone slightly on the table, then raised it again to his ear. “Mr. President.”
“Hey, Rog. Thanks for picking up. … Rog, traffic is light today, must be the price of gas. Anyway, I’m only about ten minutes away. I would like you to escort Al downstairs, and be there with her as I drive up.”
“I think we’re all set at our end. Have you discussed that detail with Allison?”
“She’s good with it. Neither of us wants to engage anyone until we’ve had a chance to talk. I think she’s all set.”
“Very well, is there anything else?”
“That should do it. You’re all set to ride with my guys. They’re not happy about it. But I’ll be damned if I’m gonna make this a parade. … You’re by yourself on this, right?”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Great, I know you can handle them. You always could. Right, Rog?”
“That’s not a problem for me.”
“Great. See you, ah, in about seven minutes.”
Even though the former President said he was running early, Roger did not buy it. He knew that his old boss absolutely detested waiting for anyone, and so always misstated his schedule to accommodate that penchant.
“Yes Sir, Mr. President. I’ll give you back to Allison.”
“Thanks, Rog.”
Roger then looked over at Allison. She had not taken her eyes off the phone since laying it on the table for him. There was a small but detectable smile on her face as she received the phone from Roger.
“Roger, go do whatever you have to do. I’m all set.” Allison knew better than to place her hand over the mouthpiece while addressing Roger. She knew that her husband loathed it when people did that to him. He was adamant about that. “If you are on the phone with me, then you’re on the phone with me. Our conversation is over when I hang up.” He had told her (and others) that before, and everyone complied.
“Bob.”
 “Rog knows what to do. I’m about seven to ten minutes out.”
“I’ll be ready when you get here.”
“Great. See you in a few.”
As Allison hung up the phone, she looked at her watch, then called over to Lesley, who had removed herself somewhat from the vicinity, so as not to appear eavesdropping.
“Les, get me my diamond watch,” she commanded as she unhooked the large-faced Tiffany that she generally wore. She was, after all, meeting with her husband, the true love of her life, to discuss an alleged affair with a staff member. She frequently had received compliments on her diamond-studded watch. It had been a gift from a Middle Eastern head of state, and Allison loved the way it looked. It had been one of the items that she took with her after leaving the White House. It meant a lot to her, partly because she had to declare its value and pay for it when she left. Lesley helped her slip it on.
“Les, check me over one more time. … What do you think?”
Allison never sought any other person’s opinion of her appearance—only Lesley’s.
Lesley took a step back, then walked around behind Allison, and said, “Ma’am, you look wonderful. Everything is perfect.”
“Thank you, Lesley.”
The dismissive tone of Allison’s voice was Lesley’s cue to step back, which she did.
Allison looked down at her watch again. “Damn, I can’t read this thing. Lesley, what time have you got?”
Lesley checked the time, and said, “11:50.”
“Call Roger and see where he’s at.”
“Yes Ma’am,” Lesley said, using her cell to page Roger.
“He’s right outside the door, Ma’am.” Allison knew that it would take three minutes to get to the street. She also knew that her husband, under any normal circumstances, would be at least ten minutes late, perhaps more. Something would come up—traffic, a phone call, something. But it didn’t really matter. She knew she had better be downstairs awaiting his arrival. If not, her husband would be furious—not angry, but furious.
“Call Roger in, and we will get started.”
“Yes Ma’am.” Lesley walked over to the door, and opened it. “Rog, Mrs. Fulbright would like you to  step in for a moment?”
Allison had logged on to the front camera, and had zoomed in on approaching traffic. “Spotting a white Mercedes Limo, with a single trailing SUV, she said, “there he is, on time. … Damn, what is this world coming to?”
Roger’s replacement had arrived, so she and Roger exchanged a few words as he, Allison and Lesley headed toward the elevator.