He never struts in the Oval, when he is with George. But once the door is closed and he's out in the hall, he's important again. Attorney Fucking General. Fredo my ass. He has his own smirk too, to go with his own version of the swagger he worked so hard to master back in the scrublands of Texas. He remembers the hot sun there with a debonair fondness usually reserved for a schoolyard bully that you eventually beat up. He got out dammit. He beat the bastards. Texas is a bad place to be brown. No matter how white you dress. No matter who's ass you kiss.
If your urban, it's legend. The small time capo from a poor family, riding the coattails of the well connected into a power they don't deserve. And don't know what to do with. It's nearly Shakespearean in its easy rythym that rolls blithely off your mind like all myths do. And Fredo is no different. Fredo KNOWS who he works for, knows what he is....and they never let him forget it. Never. Dominance is what George does. Fredo. That bastard Dick haunts his dreams. He always chuckles when he reads the leftie blogs with their picayune naivete. The level of pure evil that is present in that man. He shakes his head and grins, he can walk down the street with his head held high compared to that medieval fucking bastard. But he gets his share too. And he still wants ....more.
Yeah. It gets wicked crazy sometimes with these guys. But to tell you the truth he enjoys it. His job is making up laws for the President. And up until lately he thought he was pretty good at it. But the heat on his neck now is more intense than the heat and glare of old Sol in the scrublands if it was holding up a big ass fucking magnifying glass.
Wicked crazy thoughts run through his mind these days too, ever since that guy skippy...no wait....Scooter went down. Sure they say they'll pardon him, but the stench of what fall guys fall in is in his nostrils now. Squeal or fall Fredo, that's what the wicked crazy voices chanted at him day and night now. Squeal or fall. Just can't help thinking about it. Sure George got him out of the Tejas badlands....but Minimum Security doesn't sound too goddam sweet to his goddam ears. Everybody back home told him power has a price. But when the price was wearing nice suits and having assholes call you sir, you don't think about the downside. Loyalty. yeah right, Rumsfeld and Scooter, Safavian, Abramoff. Loyalty....or lip service.
It was always the key word, the hook, the code. The price of the ring. Stick together and we are bulletproof. No one rats, no one flips and every one gets taken care of. Besides the public are fools and saps and the Democrats are pussies and we've got the juice. Not a problem. A Cakewalk. A slam fucking dunk. Stick together and everything will turn out roses and ponies. Pardons and book deals sound like Iraqis throwing flowers and candy. Bullshit, when you are staring hard time and impeachment in the face. Dick and George have no idea, no fucking idea at all. They get the good drugs. They don't talk to Congress. Bastards. It's easy to preach loyalty when you are at the top of the heap and stoned out of your gourd on experimental mood altering anti-depressants. Hell, he knows now, that for the Top Dogs, the big enchiladas, preaching loyalty is not just easy, its necessary. That's how they hook you into the Ring of Power. That WAS the Power of the Ring. It had worked for Ollie North, but that was Reagan. Reagan was just nuts. The guys are balls out, stone cold evil pricks. Only half a brain and not a whole heart between em, and no number of surgeries was gonna help that. We'll take care of you boy, stick with us and its limos and long legged hookers for the rest of your life. Cigars, Bordeaux and silk and a nice set up in the Caymans.
So he did it. He did it all. Told them they could spy on Americans, make the FBI into their private goon squad, that they could invade, steal, torture. Whatever they wanted. As long as they kept him in silk and the WH pharma staff came by once a week. Have to remember to ask them if that twitching was normal. Helped politicize EVERYTHING for them....everything, got our people everywhere. Even, he chuckled, the DOJ itself. That was a good one. Serve your subpoenas you Democratic pussies, but who are you going to get to enforce them? His Papa was an illegal.... but he was Attorney Fucking General, former Consigliere....hell and sweet Jesus he was almost a Supreme Court Justice! A big man, a player. But would it stick? He read the papers, he knows deep inside he is no more than a toadying fool in the eyes of the rabid drooling jackals of the fourth estate. The web of lies was too thick and the jackals were nipping at the tender flesh covering his achilles now. And not only were George and Dick more skillful runners, but they had a big head start. Could they really all keep up? Could they tough it out and keep running for two more years before heading to the Pampas?
The Democrats acted like pussies, but that Leahy was one pissed motherfucking bulldog. Why did Dick have to tell him to go fuck himself anyway? Sure we were untouchable then, but Jesu Mother Ripping Christo, was that a smart thing to do? It looked like it was all falling apart now. Fredo. Fucking Fredo. He had watched the fucking movie again last night and could practically feel the water closing over his fucking face. It was his neck on the line, now. His balls on the bloodstained block with that scary bitch Pelosi holding a sharp ass cleaver. It was his ass in the sling. Him staring at the business end of the godammed petard. Get impeached and do time? Tough it out and count on their 'loyalty?' Or roll like a filthy rat. He knew which way the shit always flowed....and it wasn't uphill. He had watched them since Texas.....could he trust these motherfucking bastards?
He chuckled again as he opened the door to Fitzgerald's office.......not on your motherfucking life.