Supreme Courtship

“I don’t care what aircraft carrier we use,” President Vanderdamp said. “But for God’s sake, Hayden. What’s it come to when you can’t use an aircraft carrier because some TV president is using it.”

“Let me check with Admiral Stavridis, see what we have on station down there.”

“What’s happening, Hayden?” the President said philosophically. “You can’t tell anymore what’s real and what isn’t. Everything’s all jumbled. The world has been reduced to a wide-screen TV.”

“Yes, sir. With respect to that, it appears President Lovebucket has engaged Buss Scrump to form an exploratory committee.”

“For God’s sake.”

WOULD YOU KNOW ANYTHING about this?” Buddy said.

He was standing, florid faced, in Dexter’s dressing room, thrusting his BlackBerry at his star. Dexter, recoiling slightly, saw the headline on the little screen:

‘POTUS’ FOR PRESIDENT? DEXTER MITCHELL IN (REAL) PRESIDENTIAL BID

“Well, how about that,” Dexter said airily. “Great publicity for the show, huh?”

“Yeah. Wonderful. So. Is this true?”

“It’s true that there’s a groundswell out there. You saw that poll in USA Today. Some folks down in DC thought, well, let’s see how deep it is. It’s just in the, you know, exploratory phase at this point.”

Buddy stared. “Dexter, give it to me straight. Are you ru

“It’s a complicated process, Buddy. My gosh. First you have to file a thousand forms. Then you have to get thousands of signatures just to quality for-”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tell me: did you hire this guy Shrump-”

“Scrump.”

“Whatever, to form this Mitchell for President Committee?”

“I wouldn’t say hire. It’s more of a-”

“This has your fingerprints all over it. O.J. Simpson left fewer fingerprints at the scene than you have here.”

Dexter thought, Goddamn Bussie. Asking a political consultant to keep his yap shut… might as well ask a nymphomaniac to keep her knees together.

“I was going to discuss it with you today after we finished shooting.”

Buddy was shaking his head and pacing and muttering. “What am I ru

“I think you’re missing the big picture here. This could be a tremendous boost for the show.”

“Really? Is that what this is about? Fu

Dexter laughed. “You’re going to sue me? For ru

“In a word? You bet your ass.”

An assistant director put his head in and said, “We’re ready for you, Mr. President.”

“Let’s talk about this later, shall we?” Dexter said.

“Excuse me? I’m the fucking executive producer of this fucking charade.”

“And a fucking good one,” Dexter said. “Look, Buddy. Calm down. Don’t you see? All this, everything-is a testimonial to you. To your vision. You created President Lovestorm. Sure, I play him. But you created him. The writers… okay, they did their bit, I suppose. But he’s yours. I’m yours. You should be-my God-so proud of what you’ve done. Run with me, Buddy. Together, we can accomplish so much for this country. We can do what others have only-”

“Save it for the deposition,” Buddy said, stomping out.

DEXTER’S ANNOUNCEMENT press conference three days later was heavily attended by the media, and somewhat unusual.

Normally the candidate’s family clusters around, lending moral and visual support. But since Terry Mitchell was not at present speaking to her husband, her place was taken by Ramona Alvilar, wearing a quite fetching pantsuit that looked as though it might have been painted onto her.

Off to the side stood Buddy Bixby, producer of POTUS, trying with somewhat mixed success to look enthusiastic about this grotesque development. He had spent most of the previous days with contract attorneys, election law attorneys, and public relations advisers. The contract attorneys thought he had a very good breach of contract suit; the election attorneys said that airing POTUS in the midst of a presidential campaign would violate campaign finance laws. The public relations advisers thought that suing Dexter was definitely not the way to proceed. (“What if he wins?”)

And so Buddy Bixby found himself once again betrayed by his own creation, grinding his back molars as Dexter Mitchell enunciated his Agenda for America, a lengthy manifesto the reader will be spared here, other than to note that it included a call for: a) change, b) a return to greatness, c) a brighter future for all, not just some, Americans, and d) a pledge to change the way Washington does business.

The sun did not stand still, nor did the earth tremble at these pronouncements, but the news that President Mitchell Love-storm was in the race did lead the evening news that day.

CHAPTER 24

Pepper found it strange, sitting at the justices’ conference table, thinking what had happened the last time she had been in this room-preventing the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court from hanging himself.

She and Declan exchanged brief knowing looks as they took their places along with the seven other justices. She caught the faint grin. Declan had been looking better than he had in a while. He no longer gave off a reek of mint.

His lightness of mood was not reciprocated by the other justices. He’d barely gotten off a cheery “Good morning” before Justice Haro bitterly complained that his clerks were being harassed by the FBI about the Swayle business.

“Could we discuss it after the conference, Mike?”

“No. I’d like to talk about it now. Calling in the gestapo is-”

Justice Santamaria groaned. “Gestapo? Did you actually say gestapo?”

“Call them whatever you want,” Haro snapped. “But having them in here prowling the halls… it’s infra dig.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Santamaria scowled. “But your language is inappropriate. No. That’s not quite strong enough a word. Vile…”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Declan said. “Please. As to infra dig, let’s all agree that leaking Court decisions defines infra dignitatem. Meanwhile we can discuss it all after conference. But as we’re on the subject of the FBI, why don’t we begin with Peester? You were the first to grant cert, Mike, as I recall. So, shall we begin?”

Peester v. Spendo-Max Corp was a knotty case. Security perso