The First Counsel by Brad Meltzer Page A

that’s your idea of excitement?”
    “No, excitement would be if that little contraption you’re staring at showed you exactly what I’m doing with my hands.”
    The woman’s ruthless. “So this thing really works?”
    “Don’t know. They only give them to staff.”
    “So that’s it, huh? Now I’m just staff?”
    “You know what I mean. I usually . . . the way it works . . . I’ve never had the chance to watch myself,” she stutters.
    I can’t believe it—she’s actually embarrassed. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m only joking.”
    “No, I know . . . I just . . . I don’t want you to think I’m some spoiled snob.”
    I pause, lost in the almost scientific curiosity of what she finds important. “Well get it out of your head,” I eventually say. “If I thought you were a snob, I wouldn’t have gone out with you in the first place.”
    “That’s not true,” she teases. She’s right. But the playfulness in her tone tells me she admires the attempt. Being Nora, her recovery’s immediate. “So where does it say I am?” she adds, turning my attention back to the toaster.
    “Second Floor Residence.”
    “And what does that tell you?”
    “I have no idea—I’ve never been up there.”
    “You’ve never been up here? You should come.”
    “Then you should invite me.” I’m proud of myself for that one. The invitation should be just around the corner.
    “We’ll see,” she says.
    “Oh, so now I haven’t passed that test yet? What do I have to do? Act interested? Show a steady follow-up? Go to some group dinner and get checked out by your girlfriends?”
    “Huh?”
    “Don’t act all coy—I know how it is with women—everything’s a group decision these days.”
    “Not with me.”
    “And you expect me to believe that?” I ask with a laugh. “C’mon, Nora, you have friends, don’t you?”
    For the first time, she doesn’t answer. There’s nothing but dead air. My smile sags to a flat line. “I . . . I didn’t mean . . .”
    “Of course I have friends,” she finally stammers. “Meanwhile, have you seen Simon yet?”
    I’m tempted to go back, but this is more important. “At the meeting this morning. He walked in and the whole world hit slow motion. The thing is, watching his reaction, I don’t think he saw us. I would’ve seen it in his eyes.”
    “Suddenly you’re the arbiter of truth?”
    “Mark my words, he didn’t know we were there.”
    “So have you decided what you’re going to do?”
    “What’s to decide? I have to report him.”
    She thinks about this for a second. “Just be careful abou—”
    “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone you were there.”
    “That’s not what I was worried about,” she shoots back, annoyed. “I was going to say, be careful who you go to with this. Considering the time period, and the person involved, this thing’s going to Hindenburg .”
    “You think I should wait until after the election?”
    There’s a long pause on the other line. It’s still her father. Finally, she says, “I can’t answer that. I’m too close.” I can hear it in her voice. It’s only a twelve-point lead. She knows what could happen. “Is there a way to keep it out of the press?” she asks.
    “Believe me, there’s no way I’m throwing this to the press. They’d eat us alive by lunch.”
    “Then who do you go to?”
    “I’m not sure, but I think it should be someone in here.”
    “If you want, you can tell my dad.”
    There it is again. Her dad. Every time she says it, it seems that much more ridiculous. “Too big,” I say. “Before it goes to him, I want someone to do a little bit more research.”
    “Just to make sure we’re right?”
    “That’s what I’m worried about. The moment this gets out, we’re going to wreck Simon’s career. And that’s not something I take lightly. In here, once the finger’s pointed at you, you’re gone.”
    Nora’s been on the receiving end for too long. She