The ride from the Hay-Adams to the White House grounds had been surprisingly quick. He’d imagined a holdup with security, but it was just a matter of the town car driver flashing an ID, a dog jumping into and out of the trunk, and Sean showing his license then signing a visitor log.
For past Supreme Court nominees, he’d heard of candidates being led through an underground tunnel from the Treasury building into the White House or clandestine meetings outside of Washington. But there was no cloak and dagger here, further confirming that Sean wasn’t a serious contender. The press corps would hear of the meeting, as the White House intended, showing that the president was doing his due diligence before choosing the inevitable nominee, Senator Mason James. He shouldn’t have bothered coming.
The door opened and the president strutted into the room. Sean stood. He’d never met the man, who was shorter than expected. His famous hair looked as perfect as it did on the Halloween parody masks, as did his glowing white teeth.
“Ouch,” was the first thing the president said. “They told me you looked like you’d been hit by a truck, but I had no idea.”
“I decided some exercise might help relieve stress, but the bike trail didn’t agree.” Sean borrowed his friend Jonathan Tweed’s accident for himself. It seemed to work. The president didn’t ask questions, just gestured for him to sit.
“I first wanted to give you my condolences about your daughter,” the president said. He sat on the other sofa across from Sean. “It’s a tragedy, and I’m embarrassed as hell that we had to call you in here at this time.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
“Mr. Serrat, I’m going to give it to you straight, if that’s all right with you?”
That expression always struck Sean as odd. Would you normally not be straight with someone? Only politicians had to announce when they were being sincere.
“We’d pretty much made our decision on the nomination. And, while you were high on the list, for a variety of reasons, we’d gone in a different direction.”
Sean nodded again, not surprised and unsure what to say.
“But my chief of staff showed me your interview about your daughter. Your words about our justice system and the no-B.S. views on the interest groups really stuck with me.” The president leaned forward. “Look, you’re no stranger to the administration or my predecessor’s administration, so we never had any concerns about your views on the law. And certainly no qualms about your ability to do the job. Hell, everyone says you were the smartest lawyer at the solicitor general’s office. Your family story is damn compelling, too. Your father was a bona fide hero.”
Sean started to understand. Mother dead at a young age. Father, a retired general who died in Lebanon while serving on an anti-terrorism commission. (Quite a guy.) Daughter, murdered. A political trifecta that might offset the usual assault on a nominee. His stomach churned.
“Listen,” the president went on, “I can’t afford a fight over the nomination right now. I need somebody who’s going to immediately resonate with the public. And word has it that you’re a bit, well, independent. Someone described you as a brilliant introvert, and we need someone who can quickly get out there and win over the public—and the vipers on the Hill.”
“Someone who will kiss a few babies,” Sean said. “Interpreting the Constitution deserves nothing less.” The words came out with more of an edge than intended. But the president smiled.
“I hear you,” the president said. “Look, you’re here because this video, for my team—and for me—was a game changer. I haven’t made any final decisions yet. Our plan is to put your name out there again along with some additional information about your personal story and see the reaction. I just wanted to be up front about why you’re here now, so late in the process.”
The president stood, and Sean took the cue to stand as well. “So we’ve gotta decide this thing soon,” the president said. “My team will call you either way. But I want you to know that if it’s not you this time, it won’t be your last shot. We’ve still got two justices in their seventies.”
Sean didn’t have the energy or enthusiasm to say much, and the president didn’t seem interested in hearing anyone talk but himself. Politicians. Abani Gupta appeared in the doorway ready to whisk Sean out of the Oval Office.
“Again, I’m sorry about your daughter,” the president said as Sean neared the door. “And please, get some ice on that eye.”
CHAPTER 26
When Sean got home the only remains from dinner were an empty pizza box, crust-filled plates cluttering the kitchen counter, and the smell of Domino’s. He loosened his tie and lumbered down to the basement. He was exhausted. Ryan and his little brother sat on the floor facing the flat-screen playing Mario Kart on the Wii. Emily was probably in bed.
“Daddy!” Jack said with a gap-toothed smile. He jumped up and hugged Sean’s waist. Ryan just stared at the television screen maneuvering his motorcycle-riding gorilla around the track.
“Did you have fun at Dean’s house?”