Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,48
lounging in your bedroom unaccompanied.”
When he words it the way he has, my questioning the matter sounds ridiculous and trite. I remind myself David hasn’t been on the phone when I talk with Director Wiggins. Nor does David know anything at all about the potential leak on my staff.
“Don’t forget who’s President here, Mr. Herdsman and don’t question my ability to distinguish between what is important and what is not. I have access to information you don’t and information that I can’t share with you. Deal with it or find yourself another job.”
It’s the harshest I’ve ever spoken to him, but not only is it true, it hasn’t escaped my attention the chatter from the hallway has stopped. The entire West Wing listens for how I will handle errant staffers. Like it or not, I know I’m setting precedence.
I’ll hand it to David. He looks abashed at his behavior. “Of course. My apologies, Madame President. It won’t happen again.”
I nod and turn to walk out his door, noticing as I do the many hallway conversations resume as if nothing had stopped them. All expect for one conversation. Whatever Navin and his two cohorts were talking about hasn’t been picked up again. Navin, for whatever reason is watching me, but the two with him are looking at him.
“Yes, Mr. Hazar?” I ask him, because he’s still just standing there staring at me. I resist the urge to wipe my face or to look down to make sure I don’t have breakfast displayed on my clothes. “Did you have a question for me?”
“No, Madame President,” he says, but there’s something lurking behind his eyes.
But if he’s not going to share it, I’m not going to beg for him to tell me. I simply nod and walk toward my office. The heat of his gaze along my back means he’s watching.
Focus. Priorities. Exactly the way I told David not three minutes before.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Him
GBNC Studios
New York City, New York
“Tell me, Madame President,” I say to Anna. “What has been the single most defining moment of your life up to now?”
We’re in GBNC’s New York studio, and, for the first time ever, I’m interviewing Anna. It’s for a special we’re running which is why it’s happening here and not in DC. Gabe made it a point this morning to hunt me down so he could tell me he’d be more than happy to take over and do the interview if I felt unable to conduct it myself. I told him to get the hell out of my face and to worry about his own work. His resulting laughter only made me more ornery, and I’ve been avoiding him ever since. Out of everyone here, he’s the one who knows me the best, and can therefore see through my bullshit better than anyone. I have to keep my distance because I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to see how attracted I still am to Anna.
When the executives at GBNC first approached me about doing an interview with Anna, I told them no way. They were persistent, though, and when the pitch changed to make the interview more of a human interest piece, I told them I’d ask Anna. She was leery at first, as I expected her to be, but she thought the angle would be a good one.
She still has her doubts, that much is evident by the way she’s holding herself. It’s probably not noticeable to anyone who isn’t sitting close to her the way I am. Or maybe because I’ve been following her day in and day out for weeks, and I can subconsciously tell what sort of mood she’s in.
The setup is a regularly used one. We’re both in chairs facing the other. The room is dim, the audience watching at home will only see us against a dark backdrop. I’ve always preferred setting up interviews this way. Strip down everything, take away unnecessary distractions, and all you’re left with is that person.
Or in Anna’s case, that person and her mask.
She’s thinking about my question, though why I’m not sure. I think the question is a fairly innocuous one. When I wrote it out, I imagined she’d say something about election night or her inauguration. Something along those lines.
Or maybe a case from her time as a human rights lawyer.
Which is why I’m shocked when she begins talking about a young woman she befriended in high school, an immigrant from India who opened Anna’s eyes to the injustice and inequalities in the