James: Formaldehyde? Of course I remember you, Natalie Savage. I just watched you on TV. Nice work. But I was disappointed there was no mention of mapping.

Natalie felt her stomach do a backflip. Cute James had been watching.

Natalie: Moles are so two hours ago. We’re onto impeaching the First Lady.

JAMES: So I heard. Maybe we can have her beheaded?

NATALIE: Send her to the Tower! Lock her up!

JAMES: I would offer you my cartography skills but since the news cycle has moved onto witchcraft and martyrdom, I don’t have any applicable talent. Guess I should just straight up ask you out. Dinner?

Natalie blushed deep into the roots of her hair. May as well have some fun before the scalp cancer set in.

NATALIE: That’d be great. You’re on.

JAMES: Fantastic. I’m a little busy with family obligations this weekend. How is Tuesday night?

Cute. He took family seriously.

NATALIE: Yes, I’m game.

JAMES: Great. I’ll text you a place closer to the date. Looking forward!

He’d just said date. It’s a date! She sat at her desk, grinning. So far today she’d been on set with Heath, impressed the Chief, and now had a date with a hot guy who spent time with his family.

“Whoop whoop,” she said under her breath.

14

The Selling of the President’s Wife

“My talent? Freestyle roller-skating, choreographed to the national anthem,” Anita Crusoe said with feigned pride as Anthony doubled over in laughter. They were sitting in the TV room, having tea before dinner where he’d been pressing her for details about her days competing for Miss Venezuela.

“And in a bikini, no doubt?” he asked.

“Of course! You can’t roller-skate to the national anthem with pants on,” she said straight-faced. She’d forgotten how ridiculous it all was and how good it felt to laugh. Spending time with Anthony was so different from being with Patrick. He was always tied to an agenda and the clock, no space for quiet moments. As she watched Anthony now, she couldn’t help but wonder how her life might have been different if she’d found a man like him. A man who wanted to soak in life rather than mold it.

“That’s a high stakes situation for a sixteen-year-old,” Anthony said.

“You have no idea! I was up against a ventriloquist and a dog act,” she said, noticing how the corner of Anthony’s eyes wrinkled upward as he laughed, as though his eyes laughed with him.

“Mrs. Crusoe, sorry to interrupt.” It was Beth, her lead secret service agent, looking tense. “Ma’am, have you seen the news? I’m afraid we’re going to have sweep the house.”