Her Secret Service (Jane Roe 1) Jason Letts (novels to read in english .txt) 📖

when people couldn’t brush off his demands and ignore the deference and respect he was entitled to.

After a moment in his chair looking over his notes, the tall, lanky man watched the door reopen and another Secret Service agent step into the room first. Oliver’s heart rate kicked up in anticipation for what was next, and he rose when President Morrin and his mop of brown hair hanging over blue eyes came in. The Navy blue suit begged for condescension, but Oliver faked a smile and extended his hand.

“Mr. President, a pleasure,” he said, looking into the man’s eyes and trying to drive home that he was in control.

“Olly, good to see you. Go easy on me, OK?” Morrin said, shrugging as if he didn’t really care about any of this. Inside, Oliver loathed that nickname and gritted his teeth. He would’ve given the president an ounce of credit for actually sitting down for an interview with a critic if he wasn’t such a smug little prick.

Without any more ado, Morrin set himself down on the chair by the fireplace facing the door, leaving Oliver to steam as he was forced to take the inferior chair.

“If we’re ready I’ll count it down,” Heath said, getting a thumbs up from the president. “Three, two…”

The game was on, and Oliver was ready.

“President Morrin, thank you so much for sitting down with me today,” Oliver said, hoping his confidence and very un-greasy black hair were being properly captured.

“I’m delighted about the opportunity to make time for my friends in the press,” he said, predictably stepping into Oliver’s first trap right out of the gate. He narrowed his eyes at the president, who looked like he still belonged in a frat house rather than the White House.

“Are you? Many consider you to have a complicated relationship with journalists. Some might even say hostile,” Oliver said, eliciting a good-natured chuckle from his counterpart.

“Not at all. Sometimes it just surprises me that newspaper companies have camera crews now, or that someone like yourself chooses to ride along with the press corps when most of what you report on is internet chatter for the Washington Post,” he said.

As insulting as the president’s statements were, Oliver relished it. All of the backhanded statements and little digs would be perfect for the real purpose of this interview, which had nothing to do with what would be posted online under the guise of “news.”

“I go to where the stories are and keep the pulse of the people,” Oliver said with his best imitation of a presidential grin. “But you’ve said, and I’m quoting, that journalism these days is in a sorry state. Can you explain what you meant and how that’s not an attack on the press?”

Morrin nodded, washing his hands between his legs and leaning forward. The president was trim and fit, but Oliver had him by an inch or two and in his mind that was all that mattered.

“We’re in a time when we should be examining the role of all of our institutions, and that includes the press. I don’t think it would surprise anyone to say that the business of journalism is driven by a need for eyeballs and clicks, and that’s giving disproportionate emphasis to sensationalist topics that don’t give people what they need to know.

“Here’s an example. My Family Benefits Plan would change the lives of millions of Americans, but it barely makes it onto page five in the papers. Why isn’t this front-page news? I’ll tell you why. It’s because many journalists treat politics as a soap opera that revolves around personal gossip.”

The sound of Alex Morrin’s voice grated on Oliver, who after a while ended up just tuning it out. Once the man’s lips stopped moving, he knew it was his turn to speak again.

“Let’s talk about the explosive news of your divorce…”

The president’s eruption of laughter cut him off.

“Don’t prove my point or anything,” he said with an eyebrow raised.

Oliver pursed his lips, wondering if he’d actually been caught in something. He’d be able to edit out anything that made him look stupid, one of the key benefits of being in his position. If any mistake he made could be erased before it ever went live, he could never be wrong.

“Are you saying it’s not relevant to the lives of the American people that the man bringing a family plan through Congress has no family?” he said, and when the president narrowed his eyes at him a blossom of satisfaction bloomed within his chest. Got ‘em.

Morrin shook his head slightly, the first crack in his composure that would hopefully be completely shattered by the end of the interview.

“My personal life should be irrelevant, especially when people comprehend the details and what it could mean for them. A daycare tax credit, expanded work-from-home deductions, flexible time-off rules. Look, if a turtle came up to me and said it knew how I could run a four-minute mile, I’d listen even though it couldn’t dream of doing something like that,” he said, settling back into a relaxed and comfortable posture.

“I believe the advice is slow and steady,” Oliver said, quickly trying to process whether or not he should try to pin Morrin on taking to animals, but that seemed like a bridge too far.

“Steady is one thing, but definitely not slow,” the president said, turning to his communications director to share a laugh as though Oliver wasn’t even in the room. If the cameras weren’t rolling, Ip would’ve glowered at him, but there was a better way to express his displeasure with the lack of respect.

“According to sources, the First Lady is planning to submit her filing any day now, and although Ohio is a state with a no-fault divorce law, there’s wide speculation that your wife intends to place the blame on you under the grounds of gross neglect of duty. Obviously that could mean a number of things, including lack of financial support, emotional support, and the withholding of sexual relations. Which