Melanie ignored Charlotte’s advice and followed Brian to the North Lawn of the White House, where he was taping a stand-up.
“Brian, please, can we talk about this?” she asked while he rehearsed.
He didn’t look away from the camera.
“Are you even going to look at me?” she asked.
He stopped and turned to face her. “What the hell are we doing, Melanie? Do you think it’s funny that I sleep in your bed at night and listen to hours and hours of your complaints about your horrible job, and then when something this big is happening, I don’t get any sort of signal or warning that something major is coming? It takes Dale Smith calling me and telling me she’s been handed a big scoop by the White House and she wants to hand it off to me. The funniest thing is that Dale assumed I already knew. That’s why she asked me.” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice had an edge to it that she’d never heard before.
“I didn’t have a choice about Dale,” Melanie said.
“I believe you. And I’m not mad that Dale got the scoop and the interview, but I have never compromised the things you’ve told me, and I’ve never violated our agreement about what stays off the record and what I shouldn’t even hear in the first place. I would rather be the last person on a story than betray your trust,” he said.
“I know,” Melanie said. “I’m sorry.”
“It never crossed your mind that you could have shared this, that you could have trusted someone else. You’re a one-woman band. You and Charlotte against the world, so help you God.”
“That’s not fair,” she said.
“No? Do you think I would keep it from you if I heard that Fran was dumping her running mate?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Melanie said.
“You don’t know? Well, that’s great. I would not keep it from you. I might tell you not to tell Charlotte, but I would not keep it from you.”
“I should have told you,” she said.
“Yes, you should have told me.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“You’re sorry that I’m angry,” he answered.
Melanie was silent.
“See, that’s why this isn’t going to work,” he said sadly.
She looked at him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything at one in the morning. I’m going to sleep at home tonight. I need to be up at the crack of dawn,” he said.
“Me, too. Can’t we just go home and sleep on it and figure things out later?” she asked.
“I can’t deal with this right now, Melanie,” he said.
She watched him pack up his things and walk away from her. She stood there until she heard the northwest gate close behind him. She saw Walter and Sherry sitting in the front seat of the SUV parked on the other side of the driveway. She walked over to the car and climbed into the backseat. Walter and Sherry were quiet.
“Hi, guys,” she said.
“Good evening, Melanie,” Walter said, smiling at her sympathetically.
She sent an e-mail to Charlotte’s stylist, asking her to bring a dozen suits to the convention for Tara. The stylist wrote back: “Desired look?” Melanie replied: “Less Erin Brockovich, more Jackie Kennedy.”
She e-mailed Annie to make sure she was traveling to the convention in the morning, and she typed out a lengthy note of congratulations to the speechwriting team. Charlotte’s convention speech was a masterpiece, and they’d written a fiery address for Tara as well. Melanie leaned back and closed her eyes.
“It’s almost over,” Walter said from the front.