Barack was waiting for me in the Challenger. I slipped behind the wheel.
“Remember the woman from the motel? Abbey Todd?”
“The one who gave you the shiner at the Donnellys’ place,” Barack said.
“She has a friend in the DEA,” I said. “They were shadowing Finn before he died on the tracks. We can stop waiting on those blood test results to see if he was high because it doesn’t matter. We can stop worrying about whether that was his blood at the motel. Everything I didn’t want to believe about him…it was all true.”
I brought Barack up to speed on what Abbey had told me. He didn’t seem surprised by any of it.
Sirens wailed in the distance. We’d heard so many sirens these past two days, and I hadn’t ever noticed. The noises of the city faded into the background when you weren’t listening for them.
Barack took some time before speaking. I could tell he was analyzing everything in his mind, trying to make sense of the chaos. Rain pattered on the roof of the car, like spent casings from an automatic weapon.
Finally, he said, “Whatever Finn did, he did it for Darlene. For love.”
“Is that what people do for love? Would you do that for me?”
“You’re my best friend, Joe. Michelle and our family are part of the Biden clan, through the good times and bad. I already told you that if anyone messes with you, they mess with me. That’s what family means. C’mon, Joe, I know I’m not the only one who misses our weekly lunches. You and me, we’re like the Three Amigos. Only there’s two of us.”
If he expected a laugh from that line, he was in for a rude awakening. “Best friends talk to each other,” I shot back. “All we’ve been doing is talking over one another. You haven’t called or texted me in how long, and then you show up and expect everything to be the same?”
“You never called or texted me either. I thought you wanted to keep your distance.”
“Why would you think I wanted to avoid you?”
“Because if you want to have any shot in the next election, you have to step out of my shadow. I thought that was obvious.”
“Your shadow’s not a bad place to be right now. Your approval rating—”
“Nostalgia for a bygone era. I leave office, and suddenly Obamacare becomes popular? It’s flattering, but it says more about the current administration than it does about me. The truth is that I failed, Joe. I had my eight years. There were some wins, but they were few and far between. The slate’s being wiped clean. If anything, we’re going backward.”
“If you failed, then so did I. I was there every step of the way.”
Barack didn’t say anything.
“But,” I added, “I don’t think you failed. I’ve been in this game longer than you. You’ve got to have patience. It takes more than eight years to build a legacy—and it takes more than a term or two to reshape the world. Change happens incrementally.”
“That sounds like something I said.”
“If it is, I’ll be sure to give you proper credit,” I said with a small laugh.
Barack smiled. For a split second, we felt like friends again.
Only for a split second.
“I’m sorry about your friend,” he said.
“And I’m sorry for dragging you so deep into this. I feel like an idiot.”
“It’s been a strange weekend, Joe. I would say it’s been fun, but there’s nothing fun about people dying.”
“It got my heart rate up,” I said. “There’s that.”
More silence.
Finally, Barack said, “Why don’t you and Jill come over for brunch next weekend? Michelle would love to see you guys. You could bring the grandkids down. Stay the night. There’s plenty of room.”
His offer was tempting.
It was also too little too late.
“I appreciate what you’ve done for me this weekend, Barack—I really do—but it’s time for us to go home. And by that I mean for you to head back to the swamp, and for me to head back to the Lake House.”
“Joe—”
“I need a little space. It’s for my own good, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Be like what? Upset? I have a right to be upset. Our little adventure this weekend was just fun and games to you. I see it in your eyes. To me it was personal…It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. With any luck, I can sweet-talk Esposito into keeping my name out of the news, or at least reducing me to a footnote. But that would be par for the course, wouldn’t it? I’ve never been anything more than a footnote.”
“You weren’t a footnote to me. You were my vice president. You were also my friend.”
“Friends back each other up.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I thought you were going to cover me tonight.”
“You told me not to. You said you wanted to go meet your mystery man alone. You’re not seriously mad about that, are you?”
“If I’d been in your shoes, I would have never let you do something that stupid.”
“No offense, but I would never do something that stupid.”
“So that’s how it is, huh? Just another case of ‘Joe being Joe.’”
Barack placed a hand on the dash. “Joe—”
“Don’t ‘Joe’ me this time,” I said, starting the car. “Don’t ever ‘Joe’ me again.”
Barack’s silence spoke volumes. He and I were through—this time, for good. It wasn’t Barack’s call. It was mine. I drove him back to his Escalade in the Waffle Depot parking lot, and we parted ways without another word.