Page 2 of The Presidents Shadow

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say. Still… I need to do something. After doing nothing as I watched Jericho die, I need to take action.

A few misty drops fall from the sky as Lanata Hooper rattles on and on about the “bright future ahead, in a land where wise people take control over the weak and foolish, a future of fine worldly goods…”

I can’t stand the vile philosophy any longer.

I call upon my powers, and suddenly the graduation speaker stops speaking.

Both Margo and Jessica turn their heads toward me. They know something’s up.

Jessica is angry. “Lamont, youpromised…”

I nod, and the speaker resumes her speech. But suddenly it takes a completely unexpected turn.

“Now I would like to ask for a minute of silence,” Hooper says. Her voice is gentle, serious, and calm. “I would like us all to dedicate this time to remember and honor our academic friends who perished so tragically earlier today in Kyoto, Japan.”

The huge crowd falls silent. We all bow our heads. Then the rain begins to fall.

CHAPTER 3

I CANNOT SHAKE the images of Jericho from my mind. Still, when Margo suggests that we all go to dinner to celebrate Maddy’s big day, I agree.

“What’ll it be, Maddy? High-class French food or down-home barbecue?” I ask.

To everyone’s surprise, Maddy says, “I could go for a big honkin’ chunk of porterhouse steak.”

“You’re on. But before we go eat, I have a question for you.”

“I smell one of Lamont’s dad jokes coming,” says Margo.

“What do you get when a waiter drops your steak on the floor?” I ask.

Maddy doesn’t miss a beat. “Ground meat.” Groans. Fifteen minutes later, we’re seated at the last great steak house in New York City, the Strip House.

Margo, who really knows her way around a wine list, orders her favorite Burgundy, a Chambertin, vintage 2032. I order four sixteen-ounce steaks. “Onemedium,onerare,oneveryrare, and one that’sblue.” Margo and Jessica seem confused.

Maddy says, “Blue means that the steak is as close as possible to being raw.”

“This girl is unbelievable,” I say. “First she knows my dad joke. Then she knows my secret food info. I’ve got nothing left to teach her. I guess CCNY was good for something.” I bite down on how I’d like to finish the sentence, something about wasting her talents on the government.

We all toast Maddy. Then, at her suggestion, we raise a glass to the memory of Jericho.

Everything is turning out okay… except for the five obnoxious young professionals at the next table. Margo glances over and identifies them as “a bunch of jerks, finance guys.”

Maddy says, “Yeah, but two of them are women.”

“Okay,” I say. “A bunch of finance jerks, menandwomen. Does that make it better?”

Maddy says not at all. But the tables are so close that it’s hard to ignore this offensive group, and the mood that was just beginning to lift evaporates.

“So,” one of the men at the other table goes on, “I said, ‘Don’t waste my time if you don’t have a minimum of four hundred million to drop on this deal.’”

Another man chimes in. “The big question is, did you get the babe to come back to your place?” Everyone laughs. Even the women. Disgusting.

They all roar at comments like “That IG guy didn’t knowa Treasury bond from his ass or his partner’s ass or his boss’s ass.”

“Hey,” Maddy says, working hard to stop contempt from entering her voice. “Do you guys think you could keep your voices down?”

The people at the other table look at one another and laugh. One of the two women even parodies Maddy’s question with old-fashioned sarcasm. “Weeeellllll, excuse me!” the woman says. And, of course, all her colleagues laugh.

---