The club's “partners” had made arrangements with the police, so employees were cop proof too. All this amounted to a ticket to ride for me. The party only stopped when I wanted it to.
The face which emerged was not reassuring. It was blunt and grey, the nose springing thick and flat from high on the frontal bone of the forehead, whilst his eyes were narrow slits of dark in a tight bandage of tissue.
Just a minute or so before we left — it must have been about 1:30 p.m. — Assistant Press Secretary Malcolm Kilduff came into the room and addressed me as Mr. President. This was the first time anyone had called me that and I must have looked startled; I certainly felt strange.
Mr. President.
And I had spent so much great time loving up on my kids.
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