A/N: Okay… I know we love Rod, at least some of us do some of us not so much. I thought of the story when I didn't like him so much. And I totally hate him when he is working. I like him when he is just there for her, not trying to look like a man. He is already a great dude.

But this is still a really good story. I hope you like it. But not everyone will.

Hit me up with a review,

S.K.

The Argument

Mac took the steps to the residence by two that evening. She was running late, as the whole spontaneous visit left her to shuffle a lot of things around. One of the things she had to shuffle was Amy's daily appointment with her at four. The little girl had called her earlier and sounded profoundly disappointed in her.

She went to her room first knocking softly on the door then opening it. "Hey sweet pea," Mac said going inside the room.

"Hi mom," Amy said doodling in her notebook.

"Listen, I'm sorry that I had to move your appointment today," Mac said kneeling down next to her placing her at eye level to her Secretary of Snack time. "But the Prince of England is here, and completely trashed my schedule."

"He is not Prince of America," Amy stated turning to face her mother, "He can't tell you what to do."

Mac smiled softly, "But he is a guest, and I must treat him courteously."

"Oh," Amy said turning back to her notebook.

"I will try harder next time okay?" Mac said taking her daughter into her arms.

"Okay."

"I have to go," Mac said standing up, "Good night sweet heart."

"Night mom," Amy responded as Mac exited the room and closed the door behind her.

As she walked out of Amy's room, Rod came out of Becca's room fuming. "She's a girl, you talk to her."

Mac raised both eyebrows and headed in the direction of Becca's room. She knocked lightly before opening the door. The room was dark lit by mostly black lights and one table lamp. Becca lay on the bed still wearing the clothing she had worn to school earlier, so the only thing Mac could see of her daughter was the white shirt she wore. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Mac said walking into the room and trying not to trip on the clothing on the floor. This was not the Rebecca Calloway she knew. This was a totally different child. "Just seeing how you were doing."

"I'm fine mom," Becca said not moving.

Mac took a deep breath and frown as she caught the light scent of tobacco in the room. "What was your dad raging about Becca?" Mac asked taking a seat at Rebecca's desk.

"You mean it's not obvious?" Becca snorted, "of course, how would you know, you're never around."

"Enlighten me please," Mac said attempting not to let her own temper emerge.

"Well I don't have the time or inclination to do so mother. So why don't you do us both a favor and just leave my room." Becca said standing up in front of her mother, "you have a state dinner to attend." She stood her full height making it clear that the action was meant to be aggressive.

Mac stood, her six-foot height dwarfing her daughter and turning the tables. "Listen to me, because I am only going to say this once," Mac said with a low and eerie calm, "I am your mother, and I do what I feel is best for you. You don't get to give me a guilt trip because if that is what you are seeking, I have got one major one over you. I gave birth to you. You try to guilt trip me again, and you will suffer the consequences."

Becca backed off a little feeling for the first time how intimidating her mother could be. Mac stared her down for a few seconds, then walked away, "Get some decent lights in here. I want the black light gone today," she looked around the room and added, "pick up this mess, and give me your cigarettes."

Becca looked shocked for a moment, but Mac stared her down until she relinquished the items she had asked for. "If I ever catch you smoking Becca, it's your ass," and with that she left the room.

As she stepped out to the hall, she put the cigarettes in the pocket of her blazer. Just then Horace walked by, "hi mom," he said.

Mac smiled, "hey baby."

"I thought you were already at the dinner," he said coming over and gibing her a much-needed hug.

"I'm late, " Mac stated squeezing him back then walking with him to the living room. "I've gotta go get dressed."

"Well have fun," Horace said p-lopping on the couch, "I'm just gonna vege out and watch a few movies."

"Ooh, Trade ya, " Mac said then turned to her bedroom, "See you later hon."

"Later," she heard him say as she walked on down the hall.

Finally Mac made it to the bedroom as Rod came out of the bathroom "There you are," he said heading towards her, "We've got to do something about Becca's behavior."

"Tell me something I don't know Rod," Mac said taking off her clothing, "But she's rebelling and, and It's going to get way worse before it gets better. She's always been the moody one."

"It's not just moods Mac," Rod said watching his wife disrobe, "The teacher sent this with her." He said handing her a large manila envelope.

Mac looked at Rod then at the packet, then back at Rod as she took it from him. She walked to her bed and sat down looking at the note the teacher sent outlining the slip in Rebecca's grades. Then there were the grades themselves. It wasn't a slow decline, but her grades had plummeted drastically from the year before. "What is she thinking?" Mac said standing; "This is senior year."

"Exactly," Rod said

Mac turned to him tossing the packet on to the bed, "You could have shown me this before I went to talk to her."

"Forgive me, but I thought we were already running late." Rod said fixing the cuffs on his sleeve.

"Fuck the Prince Rod, she's more important." She looked at the clock in the far wall and winced, they were twenty minutes late already. "Crap."

Mac ran into the shower and did a quick clean up to freshen up from the sweat of the day. Ten minutes later she sat at her vanity in her slip allowing the staff to do her hair and make-up.

By the time she was completely ready, she was already forty-five minutes late, so she and Rod hurried towards the ballroom. "This is not the best time for you to be messing with state protocol," Rod sniped as he guided her towards the door.

"You know what Rod?" Mac asked annoyed as the secret service agents outside the ballroom doors let the agents on the inside know she was there so that they could announce her. "Neglecting my children does not poll well either."

"Mac," Rod started and Mac stopped him.

"Rod, we're here now," Mac said forestalling anything else he might want to say, "Why don't you be a good boy and act like a First Lady should."

They stood facing each other each battling silently with their eyes as the door opened and they were introduced. Mac plastered a fake smile on her face as they stepped into the room.