“Look on it as a part of your job. The President is trying to create an image. By the time you arrive in Europe, everyone there will know who you are.”
Ben Cohn and Akiko were lying in bed, naked. Akiko was a lovely Japanese girl, ten years younger than the reporter. They had met a few years earlier, when he was writing a story on models, and they had been together ever since.
Cohn was having a problem.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Akiko asked softly. “Would you like me to work on you some more?”
His thoughts were far away. “No. I’ve already got a hard-on.
“I don’t see it,” she teased.
“It’s in my mind, Akiko. I’ve got a hard-on for a story. There’s something weird happening in this town.”
“So what else is new?”
“This is different. I can’t figure it out.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s Mary Ashley. I’ve seen her on the covers of six magazines in the last two weeks, and she hasn’t even taken up her post yet! Akiko, someone is giving Mrs. Ashley a moviestar buildup. And her two kids are being splashed all over the newspapers and magazines. Why?”
“I’m supposed to be the one with the devious Oriental mind. I think you’re complicating that which is very simple.”
Ben Cohn lit a cigarette and took an angry puff on it. “You could be right,” he grumbled.
She reached down and began to stroke him. “How about putting out that cigarette and lighting me…?”
“There’s a party being given for Vice-President Bradford,” Stanton Rogers informed Mary, “and I’ve arranged for you to be invited. It’s on Friday night at the Pan American Union.”
The Pan American Union was a large, sedate building with a huge courtyard, and was frequently used for diplomatic functions. The dinner for the Vice-President was an elaborate affair, with tables holding gleaming antique silverware and sparkling Baccarat glasses. There was a small orchestra. The guest list consisted of the capital’s elite. Besides the Vice-President and his wife, there were senators, ambassadors, and celebrities from all walks of life.
Mary looked around at the glamorous gathering. I must remember everything so I can tell Beth and Tim about it, she thought.
When dinner was announced, Mary found herself at a table with an interesting mix of senators, State Department officials, and diplomats. The people were charming and the dinner was excellent.
At eleven o’clock, Mary looked at her watch and said to the senator on her right, “I didn’t realize it was so late. I promised the children I’d be back early.”
She rose and nodded to the people seated at her table. “It’s been lovely meeting you all. Good night.”
There was a stunned silence, and everyone in the huge banquet hall turned to watch Mary as she walked across the dance floor and exited.
“Oh, my God!” Stanton Rogers whispered. “No one told her!”
Stanton Rogers had breakfast with Mary the following morning.
“Mary,” he said, “this is a town that takes its rules seriously. A lot of them are stupid, but we all have to live by them.”
“Oh, oh. What did I do?”
He sighed. “You broke rule number one: No one—but no one—ever leaves a party before the guest of honor. Last night it happened to be the Vice-President of the United States.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Half the telephones in Washington have been ringing off the hook.”
“I’m sorry, Stan. I didn’t know. Anyway, I had promised the children—”
“There are no children in Washington—only young voters. This town is about power. Never forget that.”
Money was proving to be a problem. Living expenses were horrendous. The price of everything in Washington seemed to Mary to be outrageous. She gave some laundry and pressing to the hotel’s valet service, and when she got the bill she was shocked. “Five dollars and fifty cents to wash a blouse,” she said. “And a dollar ninety-five for a brassiere!” No more, she vowed. From now on I’ll do the laundry myself.
She soaked her pantyhose in cold water, and then put them in the freezer. They lasted much longer that way. She washed the children’s socks and handkerchiefs and underpants along with her bras in the bathroom sink. She spread the handkerchiefs against the mirror to dry, and then carefully folded them so that they would not have to be ironed. She steamed out her dresses and Tim’s trousers by hanging them on the shower-curtain rack, turning the hot water of the shower on full force, and closing the bathroom door. When Beth opened the door one morning, she was hit by a wall of steam.