Supreme Courtship

Juanita marched her back into the bathroom to attend to hair and lipstick and other necessaries. JJ shrugged and drank the bourbon himself. The swearing-in went without incident, with Chief Justice Hardwether doing the honors. Pepper had gargled beforehand with about a quart of mouthwash and smelled like a spearmint forest. The Chief Justice smelled kind of minty himself. There was a nice small lunch, and President Vanderdamp autographed his place card for Juanita.

CHAPTER 14

On Capitol Hill, Senator Dexter Mitchell was having an officially unofficial meeting with his old friend Senator Clement Cranch of the great state of Mississippi. Cranch was Chairman of the Senate Ethics Committee, almost never referred to as “the powerful Senate Ethics Committee.”

The meeting was not going to Dexter’s satisfaction. Cranch kept shifting in his chair and doing things with his mouth as if he were a recent recipient of oral surgery.

“I just honestly don’t see the problem, Clem,” Dexter said. “It’s not like I’m trying to hide income.”

“Dexter, you’d need a mine shaft to hide that kinda income.”

Dexter made a dismissive gesture. “Now that’s only a best-case scenario, like if the series goes into syndication. For starters I’d only be pulling down, you know, fifty grand,” he lowered his voice, “per episode. Tops.”

Cranch snorted. “That’s one-third of a Senate salary, Dex. How’s that go

“Yes, Clem, I have, and I think the people of Co

“You’re already on TV.”

“I’m not talking about C-SPAN, for God’s sake. We’re talking network, prime time. Look, Clem, there’s all sorts of dimensions to this thing.”

“Whenever people tell me ‘There’s all sorts of dimensions to’ something, it always boils down to one-money.”

“Listen, Clem-and this is strictly between us. Can I trust you on this?”

“Dex, I’m the Senate Ethics chair. I guess you can trust me.”

“Okay. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the money. You think I’m getting into this so I can move to McLean and build myself some forty-thousand-square-foot McMansion? This money-all of it-is going into my war chest.”

“What war chest?”

“For when I run again, Clem. For the big job.”

Cranch shook his head. “Dex, I don’t care if it goes for a McMuffin in McLean, for Vegas hookers, or for cleft palate surgery for kids in the damn Congo. The rules are the rules.”

“Fuck the rules.”

“That’s a fine thing to say to the Ethics chair.”

“That’s right, Clem. It’s a chair. Not a throne.”

“Well, whatever it is, it ain’t a toilet, and you ain’t about to take a crap in it.”

“Write new rules,” Dexter said. “For God’s sake. No one expects ethics in the Congress, anyway. Try Googling ‘ethics’ and ‘Congress,’ see how many matches you get.”

“Be that as it may. It’s my job, Dexter.”

“With all the dire things going on in the world right now… the economic situation, Texas about to mine its border with Mexico, these Russian submarines snooping off our shores like great white sharks, TV judges on the Supreme Court… and you’re all bent out of shape because a U.S. senator wants to lift the image of the entire government and maybe make a little walking-around money on the side…”

“I’m tired of this conversation, Dex. The rules say no outside regular salary. And that’s that. Over and out.”

“It’s not a salary.”

Cranch slammed his fist on his desk. “Then what in tar hell is it? And don’t you tell me it’s an honorarium. We get into more pissin’ matches over that goddamned word honorarium.”

Dexter stood before a window, looking at his presidential-yes-reflection. He sighed philosophically.

“It’s sad,” he said. “You devote your entire life to public service… your whole life… and an opportunity comes along to do something good for your family, a little money-”

“I thought the money was going to your war chest.”

“I consider my family part of my war chest, Clem. And the next thing you know you’re being trampled into the ground by the Four Horseman of the Ethicalypse. No wonder young people don’t want to go into politics these days.”

“That was a fine oration. Up there with Cicero. You done?”

“Will you walk with me, Clem? Will you take a few steps with me?”

Senator Cranch sighed. “Dammit, Dex, it ain’t up to just me.”

“This could be good for all of us. A sitting senator on a popular prime-time TV show, dynamically playing President of the United States.”

“Hold on. Hold on. How did you wantin’ to play Mr. Hollywood President become a mission of mercy on behalf of the U.S. Senate?”

“Have you seen the latest polls? Do you know what percent of the American people have quote-unquote high confidence in the Senate?”

Cranch groaned.

“Twelve percent,” Dexter said. “Twelve percent. Donald Vanderdamp-who has brought incompetence and dishonor to the office of the President-he has better numbers than us.”

“If it comes to that,” Clem said, “I don’t have a whole lot of quote-unquote confidence in the American people. But we’re stuck with each other. As for Don Veto, I wouldn’t worry none about his popularity ratings. Maybe he got a little temporary uptick from the Cartwright thing, but he’s a long way from wi

Dexter said, “What good is denying him a second term? From what I hear, he doesn’t even want a second term.”

“How’d you like to go down in history as the president who caused a constititutional amendment keeping presidents from having more than one term? I’d call that a serious humiliation, far as a legacy goes.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler just to impeach him?” Dexter said.

“Be simpler,” Cranch said, “to shoot the sumbitch. But they got laws, so they tell me.” The two men stared at each other.

“I didn’t say that,” Cranch said. “Looky here, Dex, I’d like to help. I sure would. I love you like my brother.”

“You don’t have a brother, Clem.”

“Well, if I did, I’d try to love him like I do you. But I can’t just go creating a loophole the size of the Grand Canyon for you. They’d run me outta here faster than a nukular particle accelerator. Sorry, old buddy, but you’re go

JUST A FEW BLOCKS AWAY at the marble palace, everyone was being very nice. Pepper had been bracing for wrinkled brows and sneers of cold command from her fellow justices. They practically greeted her with sugar donuts and hot chocolate. Paige Plympton, apparently a fan of Courtroom Six, gave her a little hug. Paige was an unflinty Maine Yankee; former Chief Judge of the State Supreme Court. Her ancestors had come over on the second boat to land after the Mayflower. “We sent the servants on ahead.”

Only two handshakes from her new peers were on the cool side: Justices Santamaria’s and Richter’s.

Pepper suspected that Silvio might feel a little awkward inasmuch as he’d given an interview after her nomination was a

Ruth “Ruthless” Richter wasn’t outright hostile, but her vibes were of the what-are-you-doing-here kind. But then she, like CJ Hardwether, was going through a rough patch as a result of a vote. Ruth had written for the majority in al-Muktar v. United States, the ruling that freed “suspected terrorist”-as he was then called by the media-Sheik Mohammed al-Muktar from the U.S. military prison in Guantánamo. Two months later, Sheik al-Muktar graduated to “confirmed terrorist” after blowing himself up on a parking lot shuttle bus at Disney World along with twenty-three visitors to the Magic Kingdom.

[18] To be ratified, an amendment to the U.S. Constitution must be approved by two-thirds votes in the House and Senate and then by three-fourths of the state legislatures.