The Oval Office ✓ (Book One)

Chapter Sixty Seven

  The media must know what's up by now. The presidential motorcade was seen on its  way to the capital building, which isn't something that happens often. Usually- it's only after a state of the union address or an extremely important announcement that the president holds a press conference in the building.

  So we stand here now, in a room near the front doors, going over the teleprompter speech with Ryan. I can see Kyle's entire career flashing in his eyes- everything he's worked on since he was fifteen, but at this point he's already done what we came to Washington to do. While Ryan and the speechwriter are walking him through the rehearsal like they do before every speech, he seems distracted- ill even. A bead of sweat drips down his forehead, and he looks nauseous. I place a hand on his arm, a look that says "you okay?"

  Ella asks him out loud. "Yeah-" he replies. "Just nerves. I'm fine."  He blots the sweat with a napkin from lunch, then tosses it in the trash can. He's not fine. I know him better than that.  But I don't say it- the speech is only a few minutes and he should be able to get through it without issue.

  Two minutes left. I look at myself on the mirror- at least the makeup artist did a really good job of covering up my facial scars today. You can only see a very, very faint outline on one of my forehead ones and one on my chin. Though I don't particularly give a shit- it is nice to look nice sometimes.

  With how sluggish I've felt the last few days, I haven't bothered to put on anything besides sweatpants. The makeup artist is always on call for any high up White House official that wants her, so most take advantage of that every single day. She doesn't complain- it only means that she gets more money doing what she loves.

  "...you want to have that presidential voice that Nixon had when he resigned. You sound too happy." The speechwriter says.

  "But I'm not happy." He frowns.

  "That's the point. You want to sound serious, but not depressed- and not happy either." Ryan states. "You've always had that... happier Presidential voice. It's ... only part of what sets you apart but now is not the time to be unique."

  Ryan's not wrong about that. Most of the time Kyle looks happy on camera- it's just the way his eyes always look. Those of us who know him well enough can tell when it's a front. On especially stressful days, a wrinkle in his forehead becomes more visible. His pupils become so tiny that they're almost nonexistent.His mouth twitches slightly from having to force a smile- so thank god he doesn't have to smile today.

  One minute. We stand directly behind the front door, opening them slightly to peek out. A news reporter and camera crew from almost every station is present; and we expected nothing less. As soon as Ryan walks out to introduce us, he's bombarded with a dozen or so questions. To quiet the reporters down, he puts his hands out, making a "please shut up" gesture.

"Thank you. Now, as you are all expecting, the president will be speaking shortly-"

"About what exactly?"

"When's the president going to release a statement on rumors that the United States government assassinated our own Russian ambassador?" One of the reporters asks, speaking louder than everybody else.

I look at Kyle, a "what the fuck" look on my face. His expression says something along the lines of "I'll explain later. Promise."

  "Well I can tell you.." Ryan's voice trails off for a second. "Working as closely with the president as I do, that's simply not true- but that's what we're here for today. Uh,no more questions will be taken. Ladies and gentlemen, the president and First Lady of the United States."