THE PRESIDENT 2 (32 page)

But that wasn’t the real surprise.
 
The real surprise wasn’t their joint appearance, but what was said during their appearance.

Dutch, all three ladies were now claiming, raped them.

The reporters, and rightly so, at first seemed skeptical.
 
Especially since one of the women, Jennifer Caswell, had recently withdrawn her accusation of rape.
 
But she had a ready answer for their skepticism.

“The White House pressured me into recanting,” she said, “with threats of exposing my husband’s business problems.
 
As some of you may know, it’s no secret that a few of Ralph’s competitors used to accuse him of being involved in unsavory practices.
 
Some have accused him of earning his billions because of those practices.
 
I know it’s not true, but the White House had guaranteed that the Feds would find that it was true and that his good name would be forever sullied.
 
And every dime of his money could be seized.”

“What nonsense!” the Attorney General bellowed.

“I felt such pressure,” Jennifer continued.
 
“I didn’t want his name sullied.”

“Nor his billions seized,” Max pointed out.

“But what was a girl to do?” Jennifer asked as if she was some blonde air-head rather than the tough, smart, force of nature she truly was.

And the reporters pointed out the nonsensicalness of her allegations.
 
And then Kate stepped up, declaring that Dutch used to force himself on her “on numerous occasions.”
 
When a reporter, rightly, pointed out that she never mentioned it before, even when she was accusing him, during her pregnancy, of being a deadbeat dad, she, too, had her answer ready.

“I loved him so much,” she declared, “that I couldn’t hurt him that way.
 
I thought that he would come to his senses and come back to me.
 
Then after he married that woman, who I still believe is out to destroy and divide this country, I was so distraught I couldn’t even think straight.
 
But when I saw Jennifer on television telling her story, and then being forced to recant it, I knew I had to eventually come forward too.”

“What a load of bullocks!” the White House Counsel said.
 
“You raped her on numerous occasions, yet she wanted you back?
 
If you don’t sue the pants off of these bimbos, Mr. President, I will,” he declared.

Then it was Caroline’s time to stand at the podium.
 
Dutch’s heart began to hammer when she stood there.
 
Gina looked at him.
 
Of all the women on that stage, she knew that he once really loved Caroline.

But she showed him no mercy, either.
 
He not only raped her, she declared, but she had the film footage to prove it.
 

Then they cued up the camera, dimmed the lights and lit up the screen.
 
On that screen was indeed the president’s bedroom.
 
On that screen was Dutch in bed, with a naked Caroline, who didn’t even bother to obscure her nakedness, kissing Dutch and rubbing her bare backside against his midsection.
 
And then suddenly a different video appeared of the Lincoln Monument, as if it had been accidentally recorded over.
 
Then the tape returned to the bedroom scene, but by now Caroline was on the floor, backing up on her ass, with Dutch just standing there, as if she was terrified and trying to get away from him.
 
Then, of course, the tape was interrupted again with more footage of sights around the National Mall.
 

The tape itself would undoubtedly be lost completely by the time Dutch’s attorneys could get the necessary injunction so that their experts can check it for any doctoring, including any recording over, accidental or otherwise.
 
But the damage was clearly already done.

And the White House Counsel said it best:

“One woman, two women, even three women, yes, we could have fought each and every one of their assertions,” he said, his eyes never leaving the television screen.
 
“It would have been difficult to sway that court of public opinion, don’t get me wrong.
 
Especially with your own mother leading the charge.
 
But we could have at least made a valiant effort.
 
But a tape showing the president actually kissing, actually in bed with a naked woman?
 
And this woman skirting away from him as if he had just done something terrible to her?
 
How in the world,” he asked, his own face now a mask of concern, “are we going to counter that?”

Gina looked at her husband, tears already in her eyes.
 
He walked away from the TV, rubbing his forehead, his once proud body now sagged by the weight of his own discontent.
 
And he stood at the office window, his back to them all, as he tried with all he had to look beyond the clutter, the congestion, the pain of Washington DC, and see the long view.
 

***

That press conference was so devastating that it tore through the roof in Washington and became the scandal of scandals, not just in the backyards and at the kitchen tables of middle America, but around the world, with that video providing the proof they all needed that Dutch Harber, the gorgeous, affable President of the United States, the well-respected leader of the free world, just might be a monster.

Congress was the first to jump on the
slay the monster
bandwagon when, later the next day, the Democratic Speaker of the House and the Republican Senate Majority Leader issued a joint statement demanding that the president either resign, or face articles of impeachment.

By the time their statement reached the White House press office, Allison Shearer was about ready to explode.
 
Her office was packed with staffers, every one of them on their cell phones and BlackBerrys, but her voice carried over every one.

“You know Dutch Harber!” she yelled into the phone, yelled even though she was talking to the Speaker of the House.
 
“You know he could never rape anyone!
 
That tape’s been doctored and you know it.
 
Once we get a hold of it and expose the truth, Jed, you’re going to wish you never made that statement.
 
Resign or face impeachment.
 
Seriously?
 
Impeachment based on the lies of desperate women?
 
How could you betray the president like that?”

But the Speaker held to his guns.
 
That video speaks for itself, he said, and hung up the phone.

Allison hung up too, but then got angrier just thinking about his arrogance.
 
She then picked the phone back up, ready to remind that Speaker that all of those hefty donations he was relying on for his upcoming reelection campaign had to be approved for release by the DNC, which, she reminded him, was under the president’s control.
 
But then Max entered her office.
 
With a stack of newspapers of his own showing the headlines from around the world.
 
And if she thought the Speaker was harsh, his face seemed to say, wait until you get a load of these.
 

He dropped them on her desk.

Allison, seeing that look on Max’s face, put the phone back down.
 
And cleared her office.

Max slouched down in the chair in front of her.
 
“I can’t believe it, Ally,” he said.
 
“This story just broke and already the president has become the joke of the world.
 
Even the French government is insisting that he apologizes to Caroline Parker.”

“The French?”

“Because she lived in France for that decade she was in hiding.”

Allison shook her head.
 
“That is so bogus.”

“I know.
 
But they don’t even question that decade-old absence of hers.
 
All they see is that video.”

The door opened, and LaLa peered inside.
 
“Hello, Ally,” she said.
 
Allison motioned her to come in.
 
She did, with Christian coming in with her.

“What’s up, LaLa?” Allison asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Allison shook her head.
 
“Max was just telling me how that video reigns supreme around the world.”

“Isn’t it awful?” Christian said.
 
“The president and First Lady are still reeling from it all.”
 

Max looked at him.
 
“You’ve seen the president?”

“No, sir.
 
We haven’t seen either one of them.
 
But I’m just saying.
 
They have to be reeling.”

“He won’t see me,” Max said.
 

Allison looked at him.
 
“Why not?”

Max hunched his shoulders, although he had a pretty good idea why.
 
Dutch had been treating him differently ever since he had to reveal he was secretly planning a run for office.
 
Max wouldn’t put it past him if he suspected he was in cahoots with his mother.
 
Which he was, but not to bring Dutch down, he’d never do that.
 
But to bring that wife of his down.
 
She was Dutch’s problem and the sooner he realized it, Max thought, the better.

“What’s the deal with that video tape anyway?” LaLa asked.
 
“Was the Counsel’s office able to get an injunction?”

“They got it,” Allison said, “but the video has mysteriously disappeared.
 
Nobody knows what’s happened to it.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh, yes, I’m very serious,” Allison said, looking down at the newspapers.
 
“When you’re rich and powerful like Victoria Harber you can get away with craziness like that.”
 
When Allison saw some of the headlines, her disgust with the media tripled.
 
“Oh my goodness, these people!” she yelled.

“What?” Christian asked.

Allison began to read the headlines: “‘President Harber: The
Can’t Get Enough of Your Love
President.’
 
Then this: ‘Could This President Be Your Baby’s daddy?’”

LaLa shook her head.

“And get a load of this: ‘She said it was long, thick, and juicy.’”

“How can they write this dribble?” Christian wanted to know.

“And this,” Allison said, still reading headlines: “‘Dutch Harber: President Ding Dong.
 
The President who did black, and went back.’”

“It’s outrageous,” Christian said.

“You think that’s bad,” Max said.
 
“There’s no less than seven investigations looking into their ridiculous allegations, including the FBI, the Secret Service, the Capitol Police because Kate Marris claims one of the rapes occurred while Dutch was a member of the Senate, the DC Police, and even the French Police in case some of the assaults occurred on French soil while Caroline was living there.”