Page 114 of Power
“Brice, it’s Bennett Adams.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” his tone is slow and confused.
“I know you only left a short while ago, but can you please provide me with May’s number?” There’s a slight hesitation from him. “Either you give it to me, or I get it elsewhere.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not comfortable in providing that information to you. She’s an older lady and hearing from the president may startle her.”
I should be angry, but I’m not. Brice is doing his job and not caving to any pressure from me. Besides, he has a point about her age too. “I understand. If you have her number, can you call her and tell her to expect a call from me. Give her the heads-up.” I’ll have Jamie source her number.
“I’ll call May and speak with her. I’ll also ask her permission to pass her number on to you.”
“Thank you.” Ridiculous red tape. I’m the fucking president of the United States, I have fucking privilege. But I also know this has nothing to do with my office. It’s personal.
The conversation lasts no longer than a few more seconds before the call is terminated.
I can see how some of my predecessors ran into trouble maintaining the line between the power of the office and using it to take care of personal problems. At times, the job is so all-consuming that it’s hard to determine just where the line is. If the people around you are afraid to call you out when the line is breached, it’s easy to get into trouble. I’m lucky I have Liam.
For now, I need to focus on work, and not on Reece Maxwell.
