Page 3 of Across the Universe

It takes a moment, but recognition arrives as Bill is about to free his hand from Ted Mackey’s. “Ah, Senator Mackey’s son,” he says, nodding and holding the handshake just a beat longer. His eyes flicker over to Todd Roman.

“Barbie’s older brother,” Todd says encouragingly.

Of course this guy is Senator Mackey’s son, Bill thinks. And since Todd is married to Barbie, and this guy is Barbie’s brother, Ted Mackey is Todd’s brother-in-law. All the puzzle pieces fall into place.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bill says, feeling his guard go up. He’s not a fan of discussing NASA plans or classified information with outsiders, even though Senator Mackey himself has been a huge supporter of the space program.

“Likewise,” Ted Mackey says, his eyes following a woman as she sashays past in a tight, powder-blue satin dress. Ted looks right at her behind, shaking his head slowly before looking back at the men. “They sure grow ‘em pretty down here in Florida,” he says with a low whistle.

Todd’s eyes widen just slightly in Bill’s direction, but he smiles at his brother-in-law. “Lots of pretty ladies from up north, too,” Todd says, lifting his glass tumbler before taking a sip.

“Sure,” Ted agrees dismissively. “But they’re stuffy, you know? Looking for a husband to bankroll their shopping excursions and private school for the kids. Women down here seem like they’re just looking for a good time.”

As Mackey says this, Jeanie Florence drifts across the floor, passing them by with only ten feet between them. Ted eyes her with obvious appreciation, looking her up and down. “Wouldn’t mind taking a lovely young lady like that for a spin.”

Todd looks uncomfortable. “Jeanie Florence is a brilliant engineer,” he says in her defense, though he’s openly staring at the wedding ring on Ted’s finger, and, most likely, thinking that this man is married to his sister.

This exchange sends a shock of guilt through Bill, as Todd had been the one to let him know that gossip was spreading throughout the ranks at NASA about his close relationship with Jeanie. Todd is a good, reliable man. In fact, Todd had let Bill know that the women in the office were talking about Bill kissing Jeanie the night of the explosion, though he has no idea how anyone actually knows about that. Poor Todd: he’s just a simple, loyal guy—they do exist, and Bill is, generally speaking, one of them—but even his minor transgression with Jeanie has sent a shockwave through Todd’s sense of propriety, and Bill can tell from the way he’s acting that he isn’t a fan of his brother-in-law’s bawdy talk about other women.

“Anyhow,” Bill says, changing the subject. “You came down for the holidays, I presume?” He looks right at Ted Mackey. “Wanted to ring in 1966 in the sun?”

Ted gives Bill a cocky smile. “My parents own a place in Palm Beach,” he says, jiggling the ice in his nearly empty glass. “Thought I’d bring the wife and kids down for Christmas, let the missus do some shopping, and let the nanny hang out at the pool with the little ones.” A more devious smile replaces the cocky one. “God bless nannies who wear bikinis,” he adds with a laugh.

Bill can’t help it: it’s a comment too much, even for him, and he can’t blame Todd for the distasteful glance he shoots at his own brother-in-law.

“Right,” Bill says, shaking his own ice in a way that mimics Ted’s move. “Well, lucky you, getting to enjoy the beach when it’s surely cold up in Connecticut.”

Ted nods. “Christmas on the golf course beats the hell out of Christmas stuck in a cabin in the woods with the family.” He lifts one finger at a passing server and leans in to ask for another drink as the young man walks by with an empty tray. “But I really came here at my father’s behest. I wanted to see NASA for myself, and to find out more about the program.”

Lots of people want more information about the space program, but the fact that Ted Mackey’s father is a politician means that there’s more at stake.

“I’m considering a run for Senate myself,” Ted offers boastfully. “My dad is getting ready to take a step back from public life, and I’d like to try my hand at politics.”

“Well, you’re already acting like a Kennedy,” Bill mumbles, taking a drink of his whiskey. The music from the stage and the din of the crowd swallows his words, but he can feel Ed Maxwell cough on a laugh next to him.

“What’s that?” Ted asks, leaning into the circle with a big, toothy, white grin. It’s a politician’s smile if ever Bill has seen one. “Didn’t hear you.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Bill says, smiling just as insincerely in return. “We need more good men in politics.” Which is not a lie, but no part of Bill thinks that Ted Mackey is one of the good guys. He can just feel smarminess oozing from Ted’s pores.

“I’d ask for your vote, but you’re not registered in Connecticut,” Ted says with a laugh. “But I sure wouldn’t turn down the support of one of the three men who are going to land on the moon.”

Bill frowns; who is to say that he, Bill Booker, has any claim to a spot on Apollo 11? There are still several Apollo test missions standing between him and the moon, and Bill has yet to prove himself on any one of them. But as he looks into Ted Mackey’s face, he realizes that this jackass from Connecticut, this guy who spent his Christmas putting golf balls and eyeing the nanny’s fanny, knows more about Bill’s job than he does. What he doesn’t know ishowTed Mackey knows anything in the first place.

Bill pulls himself together and takes a fortifying swig of whiskey. “Well, Ted,” he says authoritatively, “there’s no way of knowing who will end up on that mission just yet, so I’m not sure pulling an endorsement from me will be of any benefit to you in the long run.”

Ted reaches over and punches Bill lightly on the shoulder. “Why don’t you just plan on giving me your official support, and the rest will work itself out,” he says with an annoying wink.

Bill dislikes this guy immensely. He can’t help himself. There’s no way he’s going to be stumping for some senator from Connecticut in his flight suit, and furthermore, he’s annoyed at Ted Mackey’s implication that the roster for Apollo 11 is already a done deal.

“Well, unless you’ve got word from some extremely official source,” Bill says, “then we don’t have any clue who’ll be in the cockpit for that mission.”

Much to Bill’s annoyance, Mackey steps across the small circle of men and claps him on the shoulder heartily before leveling his gaze on Bill and dropping his voice so that only Bill can hear it. “I think you can assume fairly that I’ve gotten the word from God himself.”

It takes everything in Bill not to shake Mackey’s hand off his shoulder right there and punch him in the face, but instead he gives a tight smile and turns to look at Ed Maxwell. “If you’ll excuse me,” he says in the politest and calmest voice he can muster.

Bill steps away from the group and is immediately greeted by the sight of not two spotlights on two women, but two women gathered beneath one spotlight: it’s Jeanie and Jo, standing together in what feels like the center of the dance floor, hands holding one another’s forearms as they speak earnestly. Jo is smiling prettily, and even with one glance, Bill can see that she’s putting on a front of some sort..

“Shit,” he mutters to himself. He’s torn: cross the dance floor and approach the women to circumvent any awkwardness between them or—selfishly—to ensure that they’re not discussing anything that will roll downhill and land on him, or go to find Arvin North, potentially interrupting his celebratory evening in order to find out why the hell Ted Mackey knows more about Apollo 11 than any of the astronauts do.

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