they would sneak back at some later date and retrieve it.
The instant the jet cruised up to the private terminal at Ronald Reagan Airport, another black stretch limo raced up and cruised to a stop at the bottom of the steps. Jack, Bill, and the girls piled in, laughing at another Feist joke and having a ball. Feist began doling out the booze before they were rolling. He was a heavy drinker, matching Jack at least three for one, but he obviously had had plenty of practice, and he handled the booze well. A brisk ride ensued before they were idling at the side entrance gate to theWhite House parking lot. Bill rolled down his window and shoved some type of magic pass in the faces of the uniformed security guards. “Thanks, Earl, Tommy,” he made a point of saying quite loudly as they were whisked through without a second glance.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Feist,” one barely had time to mumble back as the limo shot by.
“You’ve been here before,” Jack observed.
“I worked here, under two different presidents,” Bill noted with an obviously insincere attempt at modesty.
A young naval officer packing enough ribbons and gold braid to capsize a battleship escorted the foursome upstairs, then across a broad hallway, straight into the spacious state dining room, where more than a hundred guests in resplendent finery were already congregated, sharing drinks, stuffing hors d’oeuvres down their throats, and gabbing about important subjects.
Eva and Eleanor were instantly adored by every male in the room. By far the two youngest guests, the most scantily dressed, and the loveliest, half the room admired them with every cell in their body.
The other half plainly detested them.
On just one side of the room alone, Jack picked out the secretary of state, secretary of defense, and chairman of the Joint Chiefs huddled together with their wives. Slightly to their right, the clutch of bespectacled gents whispering seriously among themselves were either Supreme Court justices or excellent imitations.
Bill and Eleanor split off, leaving Jack and Eva to drink, chat, and ponder the incredible fact that they were in the White House. The White House!
Bill immediately launched into a fast-paced whirl, virtually dancing around the room, gripping illustrious hands, complimenting the ladies, flitting from group to group, pollinating laughter in his wake.
If he was trying to impress Jack with who he—and by extension, the boys of CG—rubbed shoulders with, the performance was nothing short of impressive.
On several occasions Eva pointed out some luminary. “Who’s the big man Bill’s talking to? Isn’t he a movie star or something?”
“Was. I think now he’s governor of California,” Jack answered.
“What about the lady beside him? I’m sure I recognize her face.”
“On his left, the attorney general. The other one, the good-looking blonde, she’s the intern the president’s sleeping with.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Eva asked, looking more closely at the woman.
“I am, and you can stop now, Eva. The room is loaded with ridiculously famous people. I get it. Any moment they’ll notice I don’t belong here, and I’ll be forced to start waiting tables.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jack smiled. “Are you supposed to hustle me all night or can we have fun?”
Rather than pretend embarrassment, Eva laughed. “Am I that obvious?”
“I had you at hello.”
“I’m wounded,” she said, smiling coyly, apparently relieved to surrender her duties.
Suddenly the president and First Lady, accompanied by another couple, entered; the military band in the corner launched into a gusty version of “Hail to the Chief” and the roomful of powerful people began filtering dutifully in the direction of a reception line. Jack overheard somebody mention that accompanying the president and First Lady were the king and queen of a country he had failed to catch the name of, but where
The instant the jet cruised up to the private terminal at Ronald Reagan Airport, another black stretch limo raced up and cruised to a stop at the bottom of the steps. Jack, Bill, and the girls piled in, laughing at another Feist joke and having a ball. Feist began doling out the booze before they were rolling. He was a heavy drinker, matching Jack at least three for one, but he obviously had had plenty of practice, and he handled the booze well. A brisk ride ensued before they were idling at the side entrance gate to theWhite House parking lot. Bill rolled down his window and shoved some type of magic pass in the faces of the uniformed security guards. “Thanks, Earl, Tommy,” he made a point of saying quite loudly as they were whisked through without a second glance.
“Nice to see you again, Mr. Feist,” one barely had time to mumble back as the limo shot by.
“You’ve been here before,” Jack observed.
“I worked here, under two different presidents,” Bill noted with an obviously insincere attempt at modesty.
A young naval officer packing enough ribbons and gold braid to capsize a battleship escorted the foursome upstairs, then across a broad hallway, straight into the spacious state dining room, where more than a hundred guests in resplendent finery were already congregated, sharing drinks, stuffing hors d’oeuvres down their throats, and gabbing about important subjects.
Eva and Eleanor were instantly adored by every male in the room. By far the two youngest guests, the most scantily dressed, and the loveliest, half the room admired them with every cell in their body.
The other half plainly detested them.
On just one side of the room alone, Jack picked out the secretary of state, secretary of defense, and chairman of the Joint Chiefs huddled together with their wives. Slightly to their right, the clutch of bespectacled gents whispering seriously among themselves were either Supreme Court justices or excellent imitations.
Bill and Eleanor split off, leaving Jack and Eva to drink, chat, and ponder the incredible fact that they were in the White House. The White House!
Bill immediately launched into a fast-paced whirl, virtually dancing around the room, gripping illustrious hands, complimenting the ladies, flitting from group to group, pollinating laughter in his wake.
If he was trying to impress Jack with who he—and by extension, the boys of CG—rubbed shoulders with, the performance was nothing short of impressive.
On several occasions Eva pointed out some luminary. “Who’s the big man Bill’s talking to? Isn’t he a movie star or something?”
“Was. I think now he’s governor of California,” Jack answered.
“What about the lady beside him? I’m sure I recognize her face.”
“On his left, the attorney general. The other one, the good-looking blonde, she’s the intern the president’s sleeping with.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” Eva asked, looking more closely at the woman.
“I am, and you can stop now, Eva. The room is loaded with ridiculously famous people. I get it. Any moment they’ll notice I don’t belong here, and I’ll be forced to start waiting tables.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jack smiled. “Are you supposed to hustle me all night or can we have fun?”
Rather than pretend embarrassment, Eva laughed. “Am I that obvious?”
“I had you at hello.”
“I’m wounded,” she said, smiling coyly, apparently relieved to surrender her duties.
Suddenly the president and First Lady, accompanied by another couple, entered; the military band in the corner launched into a gusty version of “Hail to the Chief” and the roomful of powerful people began filtering dutifully in the direction of a reception line. Jack overheard somebody mention that accompanying the president and First Lady were the king and queen of a country he had failed to catch the name of, but where
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