“Wow…did you ever cheat on Mags before?”

Jim flushed, and that answered the question.

“No kidding. Why not? Quarterback…good looking…I don’t get it,” she said with sincere confusion.

Jim stood and walked over to the window to check on the audience. The serenity that was his just five minutes ago was now gone, just like the Dodo Bird. Carolyn’s voice was not grating on him, and he missed the comfort that his wife provided at moments like this. Moments like this, cheating on her with another woman? A woman whom she did not like, which in the circle they lived in wasn’t a stretch. Bred for success and power, it was a never-ending buffet of grabbing the goodies before one got too old. Cheating didn’t matter as long as it was within their social equals, since there was always room for business. Sex wasn’t just a carnal act, but a precursor to a much larger Universe of possibilities.

“Vice President…under Senator Condor,” Jim said like he was confessing many sins.

She looked down as if to say a prayer for her company and then found the courage to meet his eyes.

“No…that is not possible. We have much bigger plans for you Jim Nelson…the wheels are in motion. You will run for President. Condor is a clown…an embarrassment…I can’t even believe you entertained the idea…tell me…it’s a joke…right?”

In the rare elevation of the upper crust, it was common to use shame in getting someone to play the game as it was supposed to be played.

“Look…I don’t mingle with Vice Presidents. If you run…you will never see me again Jim. Is that what you want?”

Jim wasn’t certain if he felt his eyes tear up and look away in case he had.

“That’s the thing about your wife…” she said stopping.

Jim wanted to come to Mags defense, but she wasn’t there.

“You run with that sloppy drunk and the stink of the loss will never wash off. Even if he won…which he never will…how would you look kissing his ass?”

Twenty-four hours ago, Jim Nelson wasn’t even thinking about this and was content to putter around the yard taking care of the weeds. Twenty-four hours ago, his main rasion d’etre was killing weeds, now it was trying to mollify Carolyn. He looked back at her face knowing that he wouldn’t cry, unless she kept being mean, which made Jim chuckle.

“So, when you say I should run for President…you think my dad would be for that? He hates the entire process…saying its corrupt.”

“Really? How do you think the World works? If you want to play in the big boy league…you put your thumb on the scale. Senator Condor has his fingers on so many piles of cash it would make your stomachache. You see…your dad…let me say this carefully…changed after his political melt down. Ben has so many streams of cash that it makes my head spin…whatever he thought about public office…behind the scenes…the old quarterback is throwing touchdowns.”

Now Carolyn was not only questioning his judgement but was not quite calling his dad a crook. What had been a casual, friendly relationship had turned sour. Was it Mags stealing from her boyfriend? Was this part of a long play on getting revenge? Jim was confused and went radio silent. She recognized his mood and stood and casually stepped over and sat on his lap and jostled his hair.

“I only want what is best for you…Mr. President.”

Jim now agreed that his best course of action would be to lay back and play his cards close to his chest. Maybe Carolyn was onto something, but again he chafed at the idea of running for anything, because as of yesterday, he didn’t care. Would that be a problem? Jim always heard about ‘fire in the belly,’ and to be honest, he never felt that. It seemed that Carolyn Brown was feeling it, and Jim shuddered to think it was his baby in her stomach. What had been a pretty simple life was now adding layers of complications that were piling up with abandon.

“I have to dash back home…Mags must be wondering where I am,” cringing at the thought of including her in his conversation with Carolyn.

“Don’t worry…I am meeting her today…a social function,” she said quietly.

He turned before going out the door and looked at her blankly. What does that mean, social function? Another layer as he closed the door behind him. Jim gave a perfunctory look around the parking lot to see if he was still being surveilled and didn’t find the car in its spot. Maybe Hoover had ruled out foreign influence, since spending time with a Brown woman was hardly beat neck stuff. J. Edgar Hoover had left a bad taste in his mouth since his dad’s unfortunate dealings with the domestic cop.

“That goddamn queer…” his dad would yell on more than one occasion, which was strange because his father was a Worldly sort and had friends in all stations of life-straight and gay. He recalled also labeling him a Gestapo Agent too, so besides being liberal politically, then occurring to Jim that Hoover held a grudge, which was the reason for the tail.

“Goddamn…” he muttered to himself.

“So…how was Carolyn…in good spirits I hope…” Mags chuckled as he walked into the brownstone.

Jim ignored her, not wanting to rehash the night.

“The FBI is trailing me Mags…what do you think that’s about?”

She reached for her pack of cigarettes and lit one as she blew smoke to ponder the implications.

“You are being vetted…that’s all. Condor wants to know if you have any kinky habits…and you are free and clear being seen with the ice queen Carolyn Brown,” she laughed.

That seemed harsh even by Mags standards, but he withheld comment.

“She thinks I should run for President…” he said haltingly.

Mags studied her Lucky Strike and laughed.

“Of course, she does…she wants to sleep in the Lincoln Bedroom.”

Jim wasn’t catching her thought process, instead glowing in the puffing up that his lover provided. Now he wasn’t so certain.

“Condor is your best and only bet. The man is from Kansas…like Ike…and his folksy bullshit is just his way of deflecting that he is a fox in the henhouse. Carolyn is such a debutante that she thinks if one doesn’t live at the right address that you’re clueless. Stick with the Senator Jim and you will go far…I mean if that’s what you want.”

The part of her speech that was telling was the use of the word ‘you,’ not ‘we.’ Was Mags going to take a powder no matter what he did? Jim never got the idea that Carolyn was a threat, since Mags was not that enamored with his performance in the bedroom. It was a merger of two offspring, spawned from the union of Nelson-Bastian LLC. It was a way of protecting the firm’s standing from any outside embarrassment. Mags was more into women anyhow, which was why her ‘friend’ Susan Bellamy was usually in attendance. It wasn’t as if Jim gave two whits’ about the arrangement, but when his dad caught on, he was under the impression that his golden son wasn’t performing. Jim wasn’t about to author a thesis on the subject, in fact, it was fun bringing two attractive women to events, even if it prompted whispers and obvious pointing. In fact, his friends at the club assumed he was a stud for whom one woman wasn’t enough-take that Jack Kennedy! He heard Kennedy was getting the Hoover treatment too, so politically he was in good stead.

“Do the Vice President deal…Carolyn is…Christ…what do you see in her anyhow?” she said shooting him a sharp glare. “Anyone else fine…but that bitch Brown…really? Are you doing this to spite me Jim…I mean really…are you?”

He fell onto the davenport and let out a heave. Now after the adrenaline rushes of high office and a beautiful woman, his wife was bringing him back to Earth. Jim didn’t want to argue and thought maybe Mags had a point after all. He knew that Carolyn was her Kryptonite, and maybe he had a shadow living in him after all. Then he went where he swore, he never would have-

“So why did you take her boyfriend?”

It came out of him with a thud, and a noticeable silence. Mags glared at him and his ballsy way about his lack of tenderizing the charge.

“Oh, fuck off Jim. She had it coming…she was screwing my dad for God’s sake!”

Jim felt himself wretch at the confession, and left the room visibly shaken. Bill Bastian with a twenty-three-year-old? Did his dad know? What the hell was going on? Suddenly, Jim felt like he was in an episode of Perry Mason, trying to figure out who the crook was and the lesser ones. Was his dad in that category? He had to know. Is this another reason for Hoover’s tail?

“There. Happy?” Mags said, tracking him down into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mags? Now I feel like a fool…a Goddamn fool,” he said reaching out to give her a hug.

It had been a long time since they had physical touch, and he had to admit that it felt great. She pushed away, and her anger reignited.

“Yeah. That’s it concisely. The bitch couldn’t say no.”

“But…she was what…twenty-three?”

“Twenty-five…but still. My dad was lonely…I could see it in his eyes the way they lit up when she came around to the house. I felt sad for him…and angry with her. She played it up…glowed. So…I found Susan and Walla…I had my comeuppance. Look dad…I am a lesbian…and fuck you if you think you can tell me how to live my life…you asshole!”

Jim blanched at the thought of him playing second fiddle to Susan, but he was having his whistle whetted, so that was purely competitive. He took after his dad when competition beckoned, and it could be a problem. He didn’t mind his wife playing with other women, but one had to know that Hoover was on this one. Sure, the land of the free and home of the brave-within reason. Ike was feeble, Nixon too damn awkward to dance with anyone but Pat. And Hoover? He looked like a fat frog. He didn’t want to pry, since he kept reminding himself that theirs’ was a union of convenience, which in their circle was a common practice. It was all about money-and power.