The First Councel

For the rest of the opening credits, I stay silent, trying to figure it out. Nora shovels popcorn into her mouth. Then, when the opening shot hits, she reaches over and tickles the hair on my forearm.

I look over at her and she’s gazing at the screen, a mesmerized movie zombie.

“Nora, do you have any idea what I’m working on right now?”

“Shhhh… ”

“Don’t shush me-you said it was an emergency.”

“Of course I did,” she says, again tickling my arm. “Would you’ve come down if I didn’t?”

I shake my head and start to get up. Before I get anywhere, she wraps both arms around my biceps, holding on like a little girl. “C’mon, Michael, just the first half hour. A quick mental break. I’ll pause it and we can finish tomorrow.”

I’m tempted to tell her that you can’t pause a movie theater, then I remember who I’m talking to.

“It’ll be fun,” she promises. “Ten more minutes.”

It’s hard to argue with ten minutes-and the way it’s been going, it’d be good to recharge. “Ten,” I threaten.

“Fifteen, max. Now shut up-I hate missing the beginning.”

I gaze up at the screen, still thinking about the decision memo. For two years, I’ve been doing legal analysis on the President’s hottest policies and most cutting-edge proposals-but not a single one of them thrills me as much as ten minutes in the dark with Nora Hartson. Sitting back in my seat, I lock my fingers between hers. With everything going on, this is exactly what we need. A nice, quiet moment alone where we can finally take a breath and rela-

“Nora…?” someone whispers. Behind us, a blade of white light slices through the dark.

We both turn around, surprised to see Wesley Dodds, the President’s Chief of Staff. With his pencil neck already leaning into the room, he lets the rest of his body follow.

“Get out!” Nora barks.

Like most bigshots, Wesley doesn’t listen. He heads straight down to the front row. “I apologize for doing this, but I’ve got the head of IBM and a dozen CEOs standing in the lobby, waiting for their screening.”

Nora doesn’t even look at him. “Sorry.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” she repeats. “As in, Sorry you’re gonna be disappointed. Or even better: I’m sorry, but you’re interrupting me.”

He’s too hypersmart to pick a fight with the boss’s daughter, so he just pulls rank. “Frankie, turn the lights on!”

The projector warps to a halt and the lights come on. Shading our eyes, Nora and I squint our way to adjustment. She’s the first out of her seat, sending the bag of popcorn flying.

“What the hell’re you doing?” she shouts.

“I already told you, we have a CEO event waiting outside. You know what time of year it is.”

“Take ’em to the Lincoln Bedr-”

“I already did,” he shoots back. “And if it makes you feel better, we reserved the room a month ago.” Catching himself, he realizes it’s getting too hot. “I’m not asking you to leave, Nora-in fact, if you stay, it’ll actually be better. Then they can say they watched a movie with the First Dau-”

“Get out of here. It’s my house.”

“I’m sure it is-but if you want to live in it for another four years, you better move over and make some room. Understand what I’m saying?”

For the first time, Nora doesn’t answer.

“Forget about it,” I say, putting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not that big a-”

“Shut up,” she barks, pulling away.

“Rewind it, Frankie!” Wesley calls out.

“Don’t you-”

“It’s over,” he warns. “Don’t make me call your dad.”

Oh, shit.

Her eyes narrow. Wesley doesn’t move. She reaches back, and I swear to God, I think she’s about to clock him. Then, out of nowhere, a devilish grin takes her face. She lets out a whispered throaty cackle. We’re definitely in trouble. Before I can even ask, she picks up her purse and races for the door.

In the hallway outside, a dozen fifty- to sixty-year-old men are milling around, staring at the black-and-white photographs along the hallway. She flies past them before they can even react. But they all know who they’ve seen. Even as they try to play cool, their eyes are wide with excitement as they elbow and wink the message through the small crowd. Didja see? That was you-know-who.

It’s amazing. Even the most powerful… in here, they’re just kids in a schoolyard. And from what I can tell, the first rule of the schoolyard still holds true: There’s always someone bigger.

Weaving my way back to the Ground Floor Corridor, I’m only a few feet behind her. “Nora… ” I call out. She doesn’t answer. It’s just like that first night with the Service. She’s not stopping for anybody.