him in a grass hula skirt and coconut bra at some frat kegger got splashed over the front page of every major newspaper from coast to coast. “Bra-gate” almost cost Mom the nomination.
“I know that sucked, Dad, but it’s not the same. You chose to marry a politician and run the risk of looking like an idiot in public. I didn’t ask for all this attention and it’s ruining my life!”
At that moment, Dad’s cell phone, tossed onto a pile of his martial arts uniforms, began to vibrate. Dad gave me a hard look before reaching for it. “It’s your mother,” he said, reading the text message. “She wants to speak to you.”
“Where is she?”
“Oval Office.”
I sighed. I wanted to whine that I was always going to her instead of her coming to me, but even I knew that maintaining world peace was going to be the trump card every time.
“Hang in there, Puddin’ Pop.” Dad gave me an encouraging smile as I trudged out.
Inside the executive assistant’s office, Padma’s eyes were glued to the flat-panel TV mounted on the wall.
“Omigod!” A montage of unflattering photos of me flashed on the screen. There I was as a kid in my ballet tutu and braces. The photo was overlaid by the one of me in my Rent costume, boobs ahoy.
Padma hurriedly clicked off the TV “Wait here just a sec, Morgan. I’ll see if your mom is ready for you.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t ask for any toffees this time. I felt vaguely like throwing up.
“It’s unforgivable!” I heard Mom saying angrily when Padma opened the connecting door to the Oval Office.
I peeked. Mom paced furiously over the eagle’s seal on the rug. I’d never seen her so livid. Standing at attention near Washington’s portrait, Humberto Morales, Mom’s chief of staff, looked concerned.
“I want the Gadfly ’s press pass pulled for a start, Humberto.” Mom’s voice sliced; I’m surprised Humberto didn’t split in two. “Then I want any paper that reprints the photo to be officially reprimanded. No interviews, no access, none of their reporters allowed on Air Force One or Two. Understood?”
“I’m not sure that’s the wisest course, Sara—”
“They crossed a line when they went after Morgan. I will not have it.”
“I agree that Morgan is off-limits to press, but let’s do this the right way.” Humberto held his hand up in a conciliatory gesture. “You can’t afford any further slips in the polls. I’ll send surrogates out to the Sunday talk shows to express our displeasure about this outrageous breach of Morgan’s privacy. We’ll push our side to friendly bloggers and have editorials hit the major papers. Spun the right way, we’ll be able to protect Morgan from future breaches and gain public sympathy.”
“I don’t give a damn about public sympathy, I want the harassment to stop!”
Padma’s voice murmured. Mom put a hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. “Do I look calm?” she said to Padma. “Okay, send her in.”
Truth was, Mom looked anything but calm.
Chapter Ten
When that fire lit Mom’s eyes, watch out.
“Come on in, honey.” Visibly, she pulled herself together. As I entered the Oval Office, Humberto gave me a friendly nod then faded into the shadowy hallways of the West Wing. Humberto was a cool guy, but he was short on chitchat. That’s probably why Mom kept him on her staff during her transition from the Senate to the presidency.
Mom beckoned me over to the sofa and turned to Padma. “Why don’t you ask the kitchen to send up a snack? Some of Nigel’s gingersnaps should get Morgan and me through the afternoon.”
“You got it, Sara.” Padma shut the door behind her.
I plopped on the couch and Mom sat next to me. “I’m so sorry about all this, Morgan. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get the press off your back.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
She brushed a lock of hair from my forehead the way she used to when I was little. “You’re growing up. I didn’t really realize
“I know that sucked, Dad, but it’s not the same. You chose to marry a politician and run the risk of looking like an idiot in public. I didn’t ask for all this attention and it’s ruining my life!”
At that moment, Dad’s cell phone, tossed onto a pile of his martial arts uniforms, began to vibrate. Dad gave me a hard look before reaching for it. “It’s your mother,” he said, reading the text message. “She wants to speak to you.”
“Where is she?”
“Oval Office.”
I sighed. I wanted to whine that I was always going to her instead of her coming to me, but even I knew that maintaining world peace was going to be the trump card every time.
“Hang in there, Puddin’ Pop.” Dad gave me an encouraging smile as I trudged out.
Inside the executive assistant’s office, Padma’s eyes were glued to the flat-panel TV mounted on the wall.
“Omigod!” A montage of unflattering photos of me flashed on the screen. There I was as a kid in my ballet tutu and braces. The photo was overlaid by the one of me in my Rent costume, boobs ahoy.
Padma hurriedly clicked off the TV “Wait here just a sec, Morgan. I’ll see if your mom is ready for you.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t ask for any toffees this time. I felt vaguely like throwing up.
“It’s unforgivable!” I heard Mom saying angrily when Padma opened the connecting door to the Oval Office.
I peeked. Mom paced furiously over the eagle’s seal on the rug. I’d never seen her so livid. Standing at attention near Washington’s portrait, Humberto Morales, Mom’s chief of staff, looked concerned.
“I want the Gadfly ’s press pass pulled for a start, Humberto.” Mom’s voice sliced; I’m surprised Humberto didn’t split in two. “Then I want any paper that reprints the photo to be officially reprimanded. No interviews, no access, none of their reporters allowed on Air Force One or Two. Understood?”
“I’m not sure that’s the wisest course, Sara—”
“They crossed a line when they went after Morgan. I will not have it.”
“I agree that Morgan is off-limits to press, but let’s do this the right way.” Humberto held his hand up in a conciliatory gesture. “You can’t afford any further slips in the polls. I’ll send surrogates out to the Sunday talk shows to express our displeasure about this outrageous breach of Morgan’s privacy. We’ll push our side to friendly bloggers and have editorials hit the major papers. Spun the right way, we’ll be able to protect Morgan from future breaches and gain public sympathy.”
“I don’t give a damn about public sympathy, I want the harassment to stop!”
Padma’s voice murmured. Mom put a hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. “Do I look calm?” she said to Padma. “Okay, send her in.”
Truth was, Mom looked anything but calm.
Chapter Ten
When that fire lit Mom’s eyes, watch out.
“Come on in, honey.” Visibly, she pulled herself together. As I entered the Oval Office, Humberto gave me a friendly nod then faded into the shadowy hallways of the West Wing. Humberto was a cool guy, but he was short on chitchat. That’s probably why Mom kept him on her staff during her transition from the Senate to the presidency.
Mom beckoned me over to the sofa and turned to Padma. “Why don’t you ask the kitchen to send up a snack? Some of Nigel’s gingersnaps should get Morgan and me through the afternoon.”
“You got it, Sara.” Padma shut the door behind her.
I plopped on the couch and Mom sat next to me. “I’m so sorry about all this, Morgan. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get the press off your back.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
She brushed a lock of hair from my forehead the way she used to when I was little. “You’re growing up. I didn’t really realize
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