As they rode back to the midtown area of hotels and conventioneers, the limousine was strangely quiet. Neither Sebastian nor Tomlinson had anything more to say, and their aides looked as if they were afraid that a single spoken word might shatter the fragile agreement they had just reached.
As they glided through the nearly empty streets, Patrone spotted a taxi stand with three yellow cabs parked beside an all-night diner.
“Is it okay if we let you off here?” Patrone asked, almost imploringly. “We don’t want to let the delegates see the two of you together. Not just yet.”
“Or the news media people,” Lovett added.
So Jake, Lovett, and Tomlinson got out of the limo, which immediately drove off, as if in a hurry to get away before anyone could recognize its riders. Jake saw that the cabs parked along the curb were empty.
“Probably in the diner,” Lovett said. “I’ll get one of them.”
Within a few minutes the three of them were jammed together in the taxi’s rear seat, on their way back to Tomlinson’s hotel headquarters.
Tomlinson shook his head tiredly and muttered, “The vice presidency isn’t worth a bucket of warm piss.”
Lovett almost smiled. “Cactus Jack Garner, FDR’s first vice president, back in nineteen thirty-two.”
“It’s not going to be like that,” Jake said to Tomlinson. “You’re going to be more like Lyndon Johnson when he was vice president. He ran NASA’s space program. Kennedy got the credit but LBJ ran the show.”
“That’s what I’ll be doing,” Tomlinson said. “It’s the best I can look forward to.”
“LBJ became president,” Lovett noted.
Wryly, Tomlinson asked, “You want me to have Sebastian gunned down, Pat?”
“Lord no!”
The senator hung his head, as if ashamed. “My father wanted me to be president, not number two.”
“That can still happen.”
“In eight years,” Tomlinson said quietly. “Maybe.”
Jake pointed out, “Frank, in eight years you’ll only be a little past fifty. In eight years you’ll be getting credit for getting us back to the Moon and making private space companies into a new center of growth and opportunity. They’ll be comparing you to Henry Ford and Jimmy Doolittle: founder of a whole new industry.”
Tomlinson managed a feeble smile. “That would be nice.”
Lovett jumped in, “Then the White House will be yours, Frank. No problem.” Grinning encouragingly, he added, “You won’t even need me to manage your campaign.”
With a sigh, the senator quoted, “Yes, isn’t it pretty to think so.”
* * *
By the time Jake got back to his suite at the Courtyard hotel it was well past one a.m.
Tami was wide awake, sitting on the living room sofa in velvety pink pajamas, watching a pair of network news analysts—one male, one female—rehashing the convention’s votes and speeches.
She jumped to her bare feet as Jake came through the door.
“So how did it go?”
“How did what go?” Jake asked.
“Your meeting with Sebastian’s people.”
Jake stared at his wife. He hadn’t mentioned a word to her about the meeting.
“How’d you know—”
Tami smiled knowingly. “I’m a newswoman, remember? I find out what’s going on.”
“It’s supposed to be a secret.”
She shrugged. “I can keep my mouth shut … for a while.”
Suddenly feeling tired of the whole business, Jake plopped down on the sofa. Tami sat beside him.
“Come on, give,” she urged.
Puffing out a sigh, Jake said, “Frank’s taking the number two slot, telling his supporters to back Sebastian for president.”
Tami’s eyes went wide. “He’ll accept the vice presidency?”
“He’s not happy about it, but he’ll do it. Sebastian’s promised to support the space plan.”
“What a story!”
Leveling a finger at her, Jake warned, “Not a peep about this. Sebastian’s people will announce it to the delegates at tomorrow morning’s session.”
“Can I interview Frank?”
“Tomorrow.”
“No! Tonight! Right now!”
“In your pajamas?”
“Come on, Jake. This is news!”
Jake shook his head. “No. Frank’s very upset about this. He thinks he’s let his father down.”
“I guess he does.”
“The important thing is that Sebastian will back the space plan,” Jake repeated.
Tami went silent for a moment. Then, “So you’ll be staying in Washington.”
Jake nodded and heard himself say, “And I want you to stay in Washington with me.”
Her eyes widened.
“I’ve spent enough time without you. I hate it. I want us to be together.”
Very softly, Tami replied, “So do I, Jake.”
“I want you to leave KSEE and come back to me,” he said. It was the hardest sentence he had ever uttered.
Tami nodded. “I’ve spent a couple of months without you. I don’t want to live that way.”
Jake stared at her. “You’ll come back to Washington?”
“Yes.”
All the air gushed out of Jake’s lungs.
“I love you, Tami.”
“And I love you, Jake.”
He wrapped his arms around his wife and they clung to each other for long, long moments.