Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,16
what you think. To the executives upstairs, I look like an idiot and you look deceitful. You have a connection with President Fitzpatrick no one else in the media has. You were in the same Harvard Law class for two years.”
Technically, a year and a half, but I doubt he cares about technicalities at the moment, so I keep quiet.
“Did you think no one would find out?” he asks.
At his question, it occurs to me that’s exactly what I thought. No one other than Anna and me know the details of the extent of our relationship. And, unless you’re one of the few people who have seen my resume, you wouldn’t know I attended law school. It’s not something I tell people, because who wants to admit they got into Harvard Law and quit. Whenever I’m asked about school, I always say I graduated from Columbia with a degree in journalism.
“I suppose I did,” I admit to George.
He’s momentarily taken aback. Obviously, he’d expected some other answer or argument. My acquiescence has calmed him a little, at least for the moment. “Even before this, Rainer wasn’t a fan of yours. He brought up that pharmaceutical debacle again.”
I bite back the groan because of course he did. Pharmaceutical debacle, my ass. He’s still pissed the pharma company dropped their advertising spend with us. In my opinion, the funds would be better spent on looking for a cancer cure than on advertising anyway, but I don’t say anything. Those advertising funds are a big part of how GBNC pays me my seven-figure salary.
Which, based on how things are looking at the moment, might not be for very much longer. I begin to scroll through contacts in my head, trying to decide who would have the best leads on a new job. Damn it all, am I really going to be fired because I wasn’t forthcoming about a classmate I had twelve years ago?
Across from me, George sighs.
My breath catches. Holy shit, I am.
“Rainer’s of the opinion that we should use this situation to set an example,” George continues speaking and I’m having a hard time listening because the only way for Rainer to set an example is to let me go.
I try to calculate how much money I have at my disposal. Most of my income is automatically transferred to various savings and investment accounts. I don’t know how long it’ll take to pull some of it out until I find a new job.
“I’ll admit,” George says, either oblivious or choosing to ignore my unease. “He made several good points. We could replace you with someone who makes a fraction of your current salary and someone who would be more easily controlled.”
A yes man, in other words.
“But even with all of that said.” George leans forward. “I told Rainer I believe you are an asset to GBNC, and I didn’t want to let you go.”
I don’t allow myself to feel hopeful at his words. Regardless of what anyone else wants, if Rainer wants you gone, you’re gone.
George hesitates, then delivers the real punch line. “Rainer has been in conversations with the White House about a potential change in the way the Presidential Press Pool is set up.”
I nod, not understanding the sudden change of subject or why George thinks I care about the setup of the Press Pool.
He takes his time when he continues, as if selecting his words carefully. “It’s been proposed it might be mutually beneficial to all parties for at least one press member on the Presidential Press Pool to be permanent. The White House has agreed.”
My stomach drops because I have a feeling where this is going.
“After much debate and discussion,” George says. “We’ve decided to send you as that person. Technically, we won’t cut your salary, but part of it will be used for your expenses as part of the Press Pool. Your take home will be twenty-five percent less than what it is now.”
I let his words sink in. “You want me to serve as a permanent Press Pool member and I’m going to make less?” Across from me, George doesn’t look like he’s joking. “I’m a lead anchor, you can’t ship me off to a basement office of the White House to rot for four years and decrease my pay.”
“No,” George agrees. “I can’t, but Rainer can.”
I try to imagine life working in the White House, following the President, and waiting for her to drop tiny scraps of news. Not even just any President, oh