worked with you, and that's the gospel truth.'
'Mr. President—’
'Schedule it, Herb. I looked at my calendar, if that doesn't offend you. Next Tuesday, ten o'clock in the morning. That way we'll hit all the TV stations' nightly news, and Tuesday's a good night.'
'But Mr. President—' began a flustered Dennison.
'Also, Herb, I want the Marine Band. In the Blue Room. I'll be damned if I'll be a chintzy bastard! It's not me!'
A furious Herbert Dennison walked back to his office with Kendrick in tow for the purpose of carrying out the presidential order: Work out the details for the award ceremony in the Blue Room on the following Tuesday. With the Marine Band. So intense was the chief of staff's anger that his large, firm jaw was locked in silence.
'I'm really on your case, aren't I, Herbie?' said Evan, noting the bull-like quality of Dennison's stride.
'You're on my case and my name isn't Herbie.'
'Oh, I don't know. You looked like a Herbie back there. The man cut you down, didn't he?'
'There are times when the President is inclined to listen to the wrong people.'
Kendrick looked over at the chief of staff as they marched down the wide hallway. Dennison ignored the tentative greetings of numerous White House personnel heading in the opposite direction, several of whom stared wide-eyed at Evan, obviously recognizing him. 'I don't get it,' said Kendrick. 'Our mutual dislike aside, what's your problem? I'm the one being stuck where I don't want to be, not you. Why are you howling?'
'Because you talk too goddamned much. I watched you on the Foxley show and that little display in your office the next morning. You're counterproductive.'
'You like that word, don't you?'
'I've got a lot of others I can use.'
'I'm sure you do. Then again I may have a surprise for you.'
'Another one? What the hell is it?'
'Wait till we get to your office.'
Dennison ordered his secretary to hold all calls except those on Priority Red. She nodded her head rapidly in obedient acknowledgment, but in a cowed voice explained, 'You have more than a dozen messages now, sir. Nearly every one is an urgent callback.'
'Are they Priority Red?' The woman shook her head. 'What did I just tell you?' With these courteous words the chief of staff propelled the congressman into his office and slammed the door shut. 'Now, what's this surprise of yours?'
'You know, Herbie, I really must give you some advice,' replied Evan, walking casually over to the window where he had stood previously; he turned and looked at Dennison. 'You can be rude to the help as much as you like or as long as they'll take it, but don't you ever again put your hand on a member of the House of Representatives and shove him into your office as if you were about to administer a strap.'
'I didn't shove you!'
'I interpreted it that way and that's all that matters. You have a heavy hand, Herbie. I'm sure my distinguished colleague from Kansas felt the same way when he decked you on your ass.'
Unexpectedly, Herbert Dennison paused, then laughed softly. The prolonged deep chuckle was reflective, neither angry nor antagonistic, more the sound of relief than anything else. He loosened his tie and casually sat down in a leather armchair in front of his desk. 'Christ, I wish I were ten or twelve years younger, Kendrick, and I'd whip your tail—I could have done it even at that age. At sixty-three, however, you learn that caution is the better part of valour, or whatever it is. I don't care to be decked again; it's a little harder to get up these days.'
'Then don't ask for it, don't provoke it. You're a very provocative man.'
'Sit down, Congressman—in my chair, at my desk. Go on, go ahead.' Evan did so. 'How does it feel? You get a tingling in your spine, a rush of blood to your head?'
