Fallen Angels, Complete Series

“You can’t be seen with the president.” Dick said.

“You’re going to be subpoenaed for the Jan. 6 trials and hauled in front of the Select Committee. The knives are out for you and me.”

“He’s raised a $100 million this year.” Jane replied. “He’ll protect us.”

“Just like he’s protecting Giuliani.” Dick said.

“We need money, Dicky. It’s been ages since we decanted a Richebourg.”

“We knew we were pimping for a used-condom salesman, fair enough, but then he goes and incites his dead-enders to put up a gallows for Pence.”

“Ancient history, Dick. You’re just jealous he’s recruiting me and not you to be one of his strategists.”

Dick took his phone from the nightstand and showed it to his wife. “Got the same invitation you did, Jane. I’m surprised you couldn’t read between the lines.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been invited to Mar-a-Lago to attend a fundraising event, Sweetheart.”

 
Follow the travails of the Fallen Angels from the first installment.

“Our sincere apologies.” The manager of Mar-a-Lago told Jane.

“You were invited to our Million-Dollar Donor Weekend by mistake. Our databases have been hacked by somebody like
Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.”

Jane responded with an eye roll.

“But if you’d care to serve as a volunteer staffer, Mrs. Doe – greeting donors and making sure their glasses are filled – we can make you comfortable in the employee locker room. How does a half-price voucher for our $69.95 breakfast buffet sound?”

Jane was livid but desperate to make connections.

As she moved through the Donald J. Trump Grand Ballroom later that evening, a number of the more prominent guests avoided making eye contact, some crossed the room to keep their distance.

She had met and spent time with them, when she was a very young woman, at private gatherings arranged by her “Uncle Jeffrey” Epstein.

 
Follow the travails of the Fallen Angels from the first installment.

Jane quietly slipped out of the ballroom less than an hour after the weekend fundraiser at Mar-a-Lago began.

She booked a Friday night red-eye out of Palm Beach and called Dick from the boarding area.

She had reported to work at the White House four years earlier, a prodigy at messaging who competed fiercely for visibility. Mid-sized fictions and full-blown conspiracy theories became her thing.

But without a paycheck and the energy of the group – and with too much time on her hands – Jane started to have doubts.

In that ballroom at Mar-a-Lago, watching donors contribute millions to overturn the certified election of an American president, something happened.

“You’re coming home two days early.” Dick noted.

“Do you believe in epiphanies, Dick?” Jane asked.

“I think so.”

“What about second chances?” she added.

“As many as you need.” he said.

“They’re boarding my flight. Can you pick me up at 3:15?”

“Text me from the vestibule when you get there.” he said. “How about we drive over to the shore and wait for the sun to come up?”

“Bring my hoodie, will you?” she answered.

 

Follow the fate of the Fallen Angels from the first episode.