Madame President - Tara Sue Me Page 0,52
thinking about Navin and allow myself to fall into an uneasy sleep. Not that sleep is any better because then I dream about him.
The late night, broken sleep, and insomnia have all taken their toll on me this morning, and I am cranky, irritable. Also, I have bags under my eyes and I’m not happy about them because this is France and every woman here looks like she’s a goddess and a model.
I allow myself two minutes of a woe-is-me pity party. Then I make myself straighten up and put on my big girl panties. The situation is what it is, and I have to deal with it. I’m President of United States and I have too much to get done today to waste my time on petty things like bags under my eyes and broken sleep.
It works well until the Secret Security agent announces JeAnne and Navin. JeAnne sashays herself into the room with Navin following behind her.
“Look who I found waiting in the hall,” she says with a wave toward Navin. Even though she’s an American citizen, she’s been in France so long, she has a faint accent. Either that or she’s faking, which wouldn’t surprise me.
“You did?” I ask like it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard.
“Actually,” he says. “I wanted to talk with you, Madame President.”
“Oh?” I realize this is probably the stupidest thing to say, but my brain wasn’t working all that well before Navin spoke, and what he just admitted isn’t helping.
“Yes, but privately.” He glances at JeAnne. “It’s still about fifteen minutes until the two of you are scheduled to meet, do you mind if I talk with President Fitzpatrick alone for a few?”
“Of course not,” JeAnne says, though I can tell it kills her. She gives me a smile too big to be real, turns gracefully and heads back to the door she not so recently entered through. “I’m off to get more coffee. I’ll be back in ten.”
If she shows back up any later than eight, I’ll sing La Marseillaise a cappella.
Navin rolls his eyes once she leaves, but if he’s wanting me to say something snarky about her, he’s out of luck. I may be crazy, tired, and out of sorts, but I’m not stupid, and there’s no way I’ll ever badmouth anyone, especially in front of a reporter.
He takes my nonresponse in stride and sits down beside me. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all,” I say, even though I am acutely aware of how close he’s sitting. It seems as if my body doesn’t care that JeAnne wants me to believe her and Navin have a history together. All it knows is that right now it can feel his warmth, and that he smells like a combination of cedar and leather.
Likewise, it also notices how unaffected he appears.
“So, Madame President,” he says with a little too much enthusiasm. “Our interview appears to be a hit.”
“That’s the rumor going around.”
“It’s more than a rumor,” he says. “According to what I’ve been told, it’s GBNC’s highest watched segment of the year.”
“Is that really impressive, relatively speaking? I mean, it is only March.”
“Impressive enough I’ve been asked to get your thoughts on doing more.”
His answer isn’t what I expected, and the half snort, half cough I hear in reply to whatever face I make tells me I should never play poker with this man.
More, he said. Not another, but more. The implication being numerous interviews.
“How many more?” I ask.
“I wasn’t given an exact number.” He runs his hand through his hair. “The proposal explained to me was for an ongoing series of interviews. More of a weekly series than a one-time deal. Think along the lines of Tuesday Nights With President Fitzgerald.”
“That won’t be the title, will it? Because that is truly terrible.”
“No, just something I thought of off the cuff. The network will come up with something snazzier.”
“Good, because based on that, you should never be allowed to come up with a title for anything.”
The Secret Service agent opens the door to announce JeAnne.
“Oh, dear,” JeAnne says, walking in with a cup of coffee. “Did I not give you enough time?”
Navin rises to his feet. “I was just leaving. I’ll follow back up with you later, Madame President.”
I nod and glance at my watch. Seven minutes. And just like that, the world is saved from hearing my singing voice.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Him
White House Library
Washington DC
We walk to and inspect four rooms of the White House I never knew existed before Anna