Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,8
Times-Herald? Have you been following their coverage of the House Un-American Activities Committee? And of Joe McCarthy in the Senate?”
Jackie wrinkled her nose at Jack’s mention of this zealous anti-Communist crusade. The blacklisting of writers, actors, directors, and musicians whose work she loved was unconscionable to her. “I think there’s something creepy about a fanatic like Senator McCarthy,” she said. “Anyone who works with him has to be a malicious goon who enjoys persecuting the most talented people in the country.”
Jack started as if blindsided, then quickly recovered his usual aplomb. “I’ll tell my brother Bobby that,” he said, his lips curled in an ironic half smile. “Bobby is a staff lawyer for Joe McCarthy’s Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations.”
“Oh.” Jackie gulped and felt her cheeks grow flaming hot. She studied her drink, wishing she could take back her words and drown them there.
Once again, Martha Bartlett saved her, announcing that dinner was being served. “Take your places, everyone,” she called out, pointing to the table, which was set with place cards and china.
Naturally, Martha had arranged for Jackie to be seated next to Jack. This is going to be horrible, Jackie thought. He probably won’t say another word to me all night.
But Jack surprised her. He gave her an admiring look as he pulled out her chair and said with a smile in his voice, “I like a woman who speaks her mind.”
Whew! Jackie felt like a death row inmate whose sentence had been commuted, but she didn’t know if Jack really meant the comment or was just being polite. Play it safe, she warned herself, and let him do the talking from now on.
While Jack tore into the chicken casserole that the cook had prepared, Jackie hardly ate. She was intent on following her father’s expert mating-game instruction to pay attention to everything a man says. “Fasten your eyes on him like you were staring into the sun,” he had told her. But he had also warned her to be inaccessible and mysterious, claiming that once a man possesses a woman, he loses interest in her automatically.
So Jackie hung on every word that Jack said, fixing her large brown eyes on him as if mesmerized, her lips slightly parted, as she responded with an overawed “golly” or “gee” in a whispery, little-girl voice to Jack’s monologue. He spoke about what a close-knit family the Kennedys were and how his father had tapped him to fill the empty shoes left by his older brother, Joe, when he had been killed in the war. And although Jackie gave the impression that she found Jack utterly captivating, she remembered what Black Jack had told her about being untouchable. Whenever Jack leaned in too close or put his hand on hers, she politely pulled away.
Jackie’s performance was so convincing that everyone else in the room seemed to have disappeared. She needn’t have worried about competition from Hickey Sumers (she was the one who looked defeated now) or any other women there—Jack had eyes only for her. Jackie’s intense adulation leavened with a pinch of coquettishness seemed to impel Jack to drop a politician’s natural instinct for guarding his privacy. Over dessert and coffee, he confided in Jackie that he was bored with being a congressman and was thinking of challenging Henry Cabot Lodge, the Republican junior senator from Massachusetts, in the coming election.
Jackie wasn’t sure how she should respond to this revelation—somehow “golly” and “gee” didn’t seem adequate—when Martha stood up from the table and said, “Come on, everyone, it’s time for charades.”
Oh no, I was doing so well, Jackie thought, when she discovered that she and Jack were on opposing teams. She knew from his history as a war hero and winner of tough political campaigns that Jack was a competitor to be feared. A little tremor of apprehension coursed through her when she imagined making such a complete fool of herself that he might never want to see her again.
“You didn’t,” she said to Jack when she unfolded the paper he’d handed her and saw the name scribbled on it: Henry Cabot Lodge. Was she a sparring partner for Jack’s potential bout with the senator? She felt like slinking off to the powder room, but the teasing grin on Jack’s face got her dander up, and an idea came to her that she had to try.
She put her arms out at her sides, began waving them, and mouthed the sounds of clucking. “Chicken,” someone on her team shouted. Jackie shook her