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“Could it be that the President has angels on her side, Maria?” the anchor said.
“I don’t know, Stew, but it’s certainly something we need to look into.”
Angela turned off the TV. Her jaw dropped. Penny’s eyes were the size of saucers as she glanced between Angela and Blake.
Angela reached out to her. “Penny, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Penny narrowed her eyes and studied Blake. She pushed a few buttons on her tablet and then glanced at Blake again. She studied Angela. Angela watched her assistant’s eyes as she came to a conclusion. “Was that you? I knew there was something different about you, Mr. Sullivan. It’s your eyes. You’re an angel, aren’t you.”
Blake stood up from the table and walked into the kitchen. Was he going to ignore her for the rest of the day?
Angela bit her bottom lip. She wanted to laugh at the young woman fangirling over Blake. “Penny, I need you to relax. Mr. Sullivan is something unique, but we need to keep it a secret.”
Penny nodded her head. “I agree. People can’t learn about this. Everyone would go crazy.”
“He’s not an angel. You need to know that.”
The Chief of Staff, Alistair McCloud, knocked on the door and pushed it open. He’d barged into her bedroom more than once without an invitation. He didn’t understand the need for personal space. What if she had been in pajamas that morning?
Alistair had served with the President before her. He agreed to stay on until a replacement could be found, but there seemed to be little time to find someone as good as him, so he agreed to stay on permanently. He was very good at his job but seemed too cold and indifferent for Angela’s liking.
Since she’d returned, he’d been even more cold and indifferent. Mariah Coolidge, the vice president, told her he seemed to disappear after she was sworn in and appeared right as Angela appeared. It was like he took that opportunity to take a vacation, which he’d never taken as far as she knew.
“I wanted to brief you before the conference,” he said.
She pointed to the black screen on the TV. “Yes. It seems like there are several things I don’t know about.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “I take it you saw this morning’s news.”
“I did.”
Blake returned from the kitchen with a plate of food and sat at the table.
Alistair glowered at him before raising an eyebrow and turning to Angela. “Do you let all your bodyguards sit at the table with you, Madam President?”
Conrad, the family’s chef, brought in a plate for Angela and set it down at the head of the table. Angela bordered on hangry and didn’t have the patience for Alistair right now. It was times like this that caused her to long for the life she had before the White House.
She sat down, placed her napkin in her lap, and picked up a fork. “I will invite whoever I want to sit at my table.”
Alistair’s eyes dropped to an empty seat for a fraction of a second.
If you think I’m inviting you to sit at my table now, you’re barking up the wrong tree.
“Please explain how someone got footage of the helicopter blowing up?” She started eating.
“We aren’t sure, but we’re working on a cover story right now.”
“A cover story?”
Alistair cleared his throat. “We can’t exactly tell the American people a dragon saved the president.”
“No, I guess we can’t.” She took a drink of coffee. “Are they going to ask me about this?”
Alistair nodded. “Probably.”
“So, what do I say?”
“Say what you always say when the information isn’t clear. No comment.”
