Nora’s smile falls away. “He’s married? Are you sure?”

“For something like thirty years,” I say nervously. “He’s getting ready to send his first kid off to college.” I lower my head to make sure he doesn’t see me. “I just met his wife at that reception for AmeriCorps. Her name’s Ellen. Or Elena. Something with an E.”

“Dumb-ass, that’s where you met me.”

“Before you got there. Right when it started. Simon introduced me to her. They seemed really happy.”

“And now he’s here hoping for some extra tricks on the side. Man, when it comes to adulterers, my dad can pick ’em.”

In the two weeks since we met, it’s the fourth time Nora’s made a reference to her father. And not just her father. The father. The father of the American people. The President of the United States. I have to admit, no matter how many times she says it, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.

Bent forward, with a sweaty hand grasping the edge of the bar, I’m frozen in position. Facing me, Nora has her back to Simon. “What’s he doing now?” she asks.

Using her head to run interference, I refuse to look. If I can’t see Simon, he can’t see me.

“Tell me what he’s doing,” she insists.

“No way. He sees me, I’m meat. I won’t get another assignment until I’m ninety.”

“The way you’re acting, that’s not too far off.” Before I can react, Nora grabs me by the collar and ducks her head down. As she holds me up, I get a good look at Simon.

“He’s talking to someone,” I blurt.

“Anyone we know?”

The stranger has curly black hair and is wearing a denim shirt. I shake my head. Never seen him before.

Nora can’t help herself. She takes a quick peek and turns back around, just as the stranger hands Simon a small sheet of paper. “What was that?” Nora asks. “Are they exchanging numbers?”

“I can’t tell. They’re-” Just then, Simon looks my way. Right at me. Oh, shit. I drop my head before we make eye contact. Was I fast enough? With our foreheads touching, Nora and I look like we’re searching for lost change under the bar.

Suddenly, a male voice says, “Can I help you?”

My heart sinks. I look up. It’s just the bartender. “No, no,” I stutter. “She just lost an earring.”

When the bartender leaves, I turn back to Nora. She has an almost giddy look on her face. “Quick on your feet, macho man.”

“What’re you-”

Before I can finish, she says, “Where’s he now?”

I raise my head and glance in his direction. The problem is, there’s no one there. “I think he’s gone.”

“Gone?” Nora picks her head up. We’re both scanning the bar. “There,” she says. “By the door.”

I turn to the door just in time to see Simon leave. I take another look around the bar. Pool table. Video screen. Along the wall by the restrooms. The guy in the denim shirt is gone too.

Nora responds like a lightning bolt. She grabs my hand and starts pulling. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“We should follow him.”

“What? Are you nuts?”

She’s still pulling. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“Fun? Stalking your boss is fun? Getting caught is fun? Getting fired’s f-”

“It’ll be fun and you know it. Aren’t you dying to know where he’s going? And what was on the paper?”

“My guess is he got the address for a nearby motel, where Simon and his denim-man can play Buy Me a Blowjob to their heart’s content.”

Nora laughs. “Buy Me a Blowjob?”

“I’m making a few assumptions-you know what I mean.”

“Of course I know what you mean.”

“Good. Then you also know there’s nothing gained from a little gossip.”

“Is that what you think? That I’m in it for the gossip? Michael, think about it for a second. Edgar Simon is the White House Counsel. Lawyer to my father. Now if he gets caught with his lasso out, who do you think’s going to be publicly embarrassed? Besides Simon, who else do you think is going to take the black eye?”

Reference number five hits me where it hurts. Reelection’s only two months away and Hartson’s having a hard enough time as it is. Another black eye’ll start the jockeying.

“What if Simon’s not in it for the sex?” I ask. “What if he was meeting here for something else?”

Nora stares me down. Her let-me-drive eyes are working overtime. “That’s the best reason of all to go.”

I shake my head. She’s not talking me into this.

“C’mon, Michael, what’re you gonna do-sit around here and spend the rest of your life playing what-if?”

“Y’know what-after everything else that happened tonight, sitting here is more than enough.”

“And that’s all you want? That’s your big goal in life? To have enough?”

She lets the logic sink in before she goes for the kill. “If you don’t want to follow, I understand. But I have to go. So give me your keys and I’ll be out of your way.”

No question about it. She’ll be gone. And I’ll be here.

I pull the keys from my pocket. She opens her hand.

I once again shake my head and tell myself I won’t regret it. “You really think I’m going to let you go alone?”

She shoots me a smile and darts for the door. Without pause, I follow. The moment we get outside, I see Simon’s black Volvo pull out from a spot up the street. “There he goes,” I say.

We run down the block in a mad dash for my Jeep. “Throw me the keys,” she says.

“Not a chance,” I reply. “This time, I drive.”

It takes a couple of blocks of speeding to regain sight of Simon’s car and his “Friend of the Chesapeake” Virginia license plate. “Are you sure that’s him?” Nora asks.

“It’s definitely him.” I drop back and put about a block between us. “I recognize the plates from West Exec.”

Within a few minutes, Simon’s woven his way through Adams Morgan and is heading up 16th Street. Still a block behind him, we hit Religion Row and pass the dozens of temples, mosques, and churches that dot the landscape.

“Should we get closer?” Nora asks.

“Not if we want to be inconspicuous.”

She seems amused by my answer. “Now I know how Harry and Darren feel,” she says, referring to her Secret Service agents.

“Speaking of which, do you think they put out an APB on you? I mean, don’t they call this stuff in?”

“They’ll call the night supervisor and the agent in charge of the House detail, but I figure we’ve got about two hours before they make it public.”

“That long?” I ask, looking at my watch.

“Depends on the incident. If you were driving when we took off, they’d probably treat it as a kidnapping, which is the primary threat for a First Family member. Beyond that, though, it also depends on the person. Chelsea Clinton got a half hour at the most. Patti Davis got days. I get about two hours. Then they go nuts.”

I don’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean, nuts? Is that when they send out the black helicopters to hunt us down?”

“There’re already trying to hunt us down. In two hours, they’ll put us on the police scanners. If that happens, we make the morning news. And every gossip columnist in the country will want to know your intentions.”

“No-no way.” Since we met, my encounters with Nora have been limited to a reception, a bill-signing ceremony, and the Deputy Counsel’s birthday party-all of them White House staff events. At the first, we were introduced; at the second, we spoke; at the third, she asked me out. I think there’re only ten people on this planet who would’ve refused the offer. I’m not one of them. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for the magnifying glass. As I’ve seen so many times before, the moment you hit that glare of publicity is the exact same moment they burn your ass.

I look back at my watch. It’s almost a quarter to twelve. “So that means you have an hour and a half until you become the pumpkin.”

“Actually, you’re the one who becomes the pumpkin.”