Gary? Oh, shit. Gotta remember. Hmm. Sue? Sue? All right, don’t answer me. I’ll record this by myself. I know how to operate a fucking voice recorder.
After my phone call with the Israeli prime minister ended, I looked around the empty Oval Office and thought again about Gary. No one had sacrificed to make me President as much as he had. Except for myself, of course. I had made the bigger sacrifice. Because I didn’t have Gary anymore.
I sat at my desk, trying to think of what it was called. I knew it was a piece of history and that one of the more insufferable presidents had first used it. (I can’t be expected to remember the names of all the fucktards who held this office.) He probably deposited his jizz in one of the drawers. That’s why I keep my brush and make-up on top next to the picture of my grandson I display to impress visitors.
I call him Richard, but recently my daughter told me she’d really named him Andrew, after my ex-husband, who I was under the impression had been blown up along with my boat. I swear I saw him on a street in Oslo after the explosion. Just another example of Keith Quinn’s incompetence, though for a change, I was happy about it.
I looked to my right at the American flag and pondered how it had ever wound up with that hideous design. Whoever conceived the mishmash of stars and stripes couldn’t decide on one pattern. Or one color. So indecisive. Typical of America, then and now.
Next, I glanced to my left at the portrait of our first president, Abraham Lincoln. He seemed to wink at me, and for some reason, I wasn’t surprised. Perhaps my blood sugar was low. I needed a cup of hibiscus tea and a Fig Newton.
I pressed the button connecting me with the outer office and said, “Sue, get Gary for me.”
“Gary doesn’t work here anymore, Ma’am.”
The incompetence of my staff always takes me by surprise. “I know that, Goddammit. I need a snack.”
“Not my job, Madam President.”
Well, it sure as hell wasn’t my job. “Find somebody whose job it is, for Chrissake.”
“Do you want to take your own phone calls while I scour the building for domestic help, Ma’am?”
Why do I put up with such insubordination? Because I’ve always been an easygoing boss.
“Get Michelle to do it. No, wait. She’s a complete idiot. Get Keith.”
“Keith is talking to the press, Ma’am.”
I froze for a moment, then pulled myself together. “He’s not supposed to talk to anybody. What’s he talking about?”
Sue, always direct, didn’t hesitate. She can be a bitch. “Gary, Madam President. And the Meyer Fund.”
I might have held my breath for five seconds in order to compose myself, but cut to the chase and screamed at her, “What the fuck? The Meyer Fund isn’t an issue anymore. That’s been taken care of.”
Sue didn’t answer, and I realized she’d hung up on me. Not only insubordinate, but also rude.
I took off my heels, ran out of the office, sprinted down the hall, and arrived, panting, outside the press room. Keith was standing at the podium and speaking into the microphone. “I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that Mr. Walsh doesn’t deny the charges. His name was all over the Meyer Fund from the beginning, and he embezzled over twenty-five million dollars for his own purposes.”
Mike McClintock, my former director of communications but now White House reporter for CBS, called out his question. Well, it wasn’t really a question. It was more of a statement. In fact, I suppose you could definitely call it a statement. “The FBI has issued this claim: ‘We can find no trace of criminal activity on the part of Mr. Walsh in this or any other investigation. And believe us, we tried.’”
Keith waved his hand in dismissal. “The level of incompetence in the FBI is staggering.” I’d heard something like that sentence before. “Gary Walsh admits to spending that money.”
Jim Acosta spoke up. “We understand he bought Bibles and gave them to the homeless.”
The FOX news correspondent added, “Does the White House have a statement regarding Mr. Walsh’s release after no prosecutor would accept the case?”
I couldn’t wait on the sidelines another minute. I burst into the room, knocked Keith out of my way, and stood on tiptoe behind the podium. If Gary had been there, he would have anticipated my need for the crate to stand on.
“I have a statement.” I squared my shoulders and glared at the jizz-faced press corps. “I want Gary here STAT and I need him to bring me a cup of tea and a cookie. Now get on it!”
I could hear them all grumble that it wasn’t their job to arrange getting Gary back on board. Just when I thought I would tear my hair out in frustration, Gary walked into the room, the Leviathan strap over his shoulder and a teacup and saucer in his hand. I saw not one, but two, Fig Newtons on the plate.
He handed the cup and saucer to me. “Ma’am, you must have dropped your shoes between here and the Oval Office. I’ll get them for you.”
Mike looked stunned. “Gary, how could you come back here after what the President did to you?”
“Remember I said I’d take a bullet for her? I’d have done anything to help her win the election. And it wasn’t as if it was the Labor Day incident all over again.”
“We said we’d never speak about that again, Gary.” I was truly hurt he would bring it up.
“Sorry, Ma’am. No one will ever know. Would you like six almonds with your tea and cookies?”
I was about to shout “No” so loudly it would have knocked him over, but I reconsidered after thinking about all my bagman had done for me. “Not now, Gare. But next time I want some, you’d damn well better be nearby.”
“I will be, Ma’am. You can count on it.” He opened the Leviathan and withdrew a lipstick tube. “You didn’t choose your lip color today, did you, Ma’am? I didn’t think so. I have the Dubonnet right here.”
“All right, but make it quick. I have to get back to the Oval ASAP to sign some bills I’m not even in favor of. While I’m doing it, get Amy and Dan back on the team. Kent, too. Tell him we’ll replace Jonah as Vice President somehow. We’ll put Richard in his place. And ask Ben if he’d come back, if only for the free transportation on Air Force 1.”
“Isn’t there one more thing, Madam President?” Gary looked at me with those cow eyes.
“Oh, all right. Call Catherine and tell her we’ll reinstate same-sex marriage.”
“And while we’re at it?” He smiled his dopiest smile.
“Okay, let’s free Tibet.” By this time, I was critically late for the bill-signing. It was Gary’s fault, but I was in a forgiving mood. Hibiscus tea has that effect on me.
I dropped the cup and saucer into the nearest trash receptacle. Gary fished them out. Then we headed to the Oval Office. Things had started to look up, for once.
After my phone call with the Israeli prime minister ended, I looked around the empty Oval Office and thought again about Gary. No one had sacrificed to make me President as much as he had. Except for myself, of course. I had made the bigger sacrifice. Because I didn’t have Gary anymore.
I sat at my desk, trying to think of what it was called. I knew it was a piece of history and that one of the more insufferable presidents had first used it. (I can’t be expected to remember the names of all the fucktards who held this office.) He probably deposited his jizz in one of the drawers. That’s why I keep my brush and make-up on top next to the picture of my grandson I display to impress visitors.
I call him Richard, but recently my daughter told me she’d really named him Andrew, after my ex-husband, who I was under the impression had been blown up along with my boat. I swear I saw him on a street in Oslo after the explosion. Just another example of Keith Quinn’s incompetence, though for a change, I was happy about it.
I looked to my right at the American flag and pondered how it had ever wound up with that hideous design. Whoever conceived the mishmash of stars and stripes couldn’t decide on one pattern. Or one color. So indecisive. Typical of America, then and now.
Next, I glanced to my left at the portrait of our first president, Abraham Lincoln. He seemed to wink at me, and for some reason, I wasn’t surprised. Perhaps my blood sugar was low. I needed a cup of hibiscus tea and a Fig Newton.
I pressed the button connecting me with the outer office and said, “Sue, get Gary for me.”
“Gary doesn’t work here anymore, Ma’am.”
The incompetence of my staff always takes me by surprise. “I know that, Goddammit. I need a snack.”
“Not my job, Madam President.”
Well, it sure as hell wasn’t my job. “Find somebody whose job it is, for Chrissake.”
“Do you want to take your own phone calls while I scour the building for domestic help, Ma’am?”
Why do I put up with such insubordination? Because I’ve always been an easygoing boss.
“Get Michelle to do it. No, wait. She’s a complete idiot. Get Keith.”
“Keith is talking to the press, Ma’am.”
I froze for a moment, then pulled myself together. “He’s not supposed to talk to anybody. What’s he talking about?”
Sue, always direct, didn’t hesitate. She can be a bitch. “Gary, Madam President. And the Meyer Fund.”
I might have held my breath for five seconds in order to compose myself, but cut to the chase and screamed at her, “What the fuck? The Meyer Fund isn’t an issue anymore. That’s been taken care of.”
Sue didn’t answer, and I realized she’d hung up on me. Not only insubordinate, but also rude.
I took off my heels, ran out of the office, sprinted down the hall, and arrived, panting, outside the press room. Keith was standing at the podium and speaking into the microphone. “I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that Mr. Walsh doesn’t deny the charges. His name was all over the Meyer Fund from the beginning, and he embezzled over twenty-five million dollars for his own purposes.”
Mike McClintock, my former director of communications but now White House reporter for CBS, called out his question. Well, it wasn’t really a question. It was more of a statement. In fact, I suppose you could definitely call it a statement. “The FBI has issued this claim: ‘We can find no trace of criminal activity on the part of Mr. Walsh in this or any other investigation. And believe us, we tried.’”
Keith waved his hand in dismissal. “The level of incompetence in the FBI is staggering.” I’d heard something like that sentence before. “Gary Walsh admits to spending that money.”
Jim Acosta spoke up. “We understand he bought Bibles and gave them to the homeless.”
The FOX news correspondent added, “Does the White House have a statement regarding Mr. Walsh’s release after no prosecutor would accept the case?”
I couldn’t wait on the sidelines another minute. I burst into the room, knocked Keith out of my way, and stood on tiptoe behind the podium. If Gary had been there, he would have anticipated my need for the crate to stand on.
“I have a statement.” I squared my shoulders and glared at the jizz-faced press corps. “I want Gary here STAT and I need him to bring me a cup of tea and a cookie. Now get on it!”
I could hear them all grumble that it wasn’t their job to arrange getting Gary back on board. Just when I thought I would tear my hair out in frustration, Gary walked into the room, the Leviathan strap over his shoulder and a teacup and saucer in his hand. I saw not one, but two, Fig Newtons on the plate.
He handed the cup and saucer to me. “Ma’am, you must have dropped your shoes between here and the Oval Office. I’ll get them for you.”
Mike looked stunned. “Gary, how could you come back here after what the President did to you?”
“Remember I said I’d take a bullet for her? I’d have done anything to help her win the election. And it wasn’t as if it was the Labor Day incident all over again.”
“We said we’d never speak about that again, Gary.” I was truly hurt he would bring it up.
“Sorry, Ma’am. No one will ever know. Would you like six almonds with your tea and cookies?”
I was about to shout “No” so loudly it would have knocked him over, but I reconsidered after thinking about all my bagman had done for me. “Not now, Gare. But next time I want some, you’d damn well better be nearby.”
“I will be, Ma’am. You can count on it.” He opened the Leviathan and withdrew a lipstick tube. “You didn’t choose your lip color today, did you, Ma’am? I didn’t think so. I have the Dubonnet right here.”
“All right, but make it quick. I have to get back to the Oval ASAP to sign some bills I’m not even in favor of. While I’m doing it, get Amy and Dan back on the team. Kent, too. Tell him we’ll replace Jonah as Vice President somehow. We’ll put Richard in his place. And ask Ben if he’d come back, if only for the free transportation on Air Force 1.”
“Isn’t there one more thing, Madam President?” Gary looked at me with those cow eyes.
“Oh, all right. Call Catherine and tell her we’ll reinstate same-sex marriage.”
“And while we’re at it?” He smiled his dopiest smile.
“Okay, let’s free Tibet.” By this time, I was critically late for the bill-signing. It was Gary’s fault, but I was in a forgiving mood. Hibiscus tea has that effect on me.
I dropped the cup and saucer into the nearest trash receptacle. Gary fished them out. Then we headed to the Oval Office. Things had started to look up, for once.