When I left the restaurant, three large black Suburbans were lined up in front. Several people were milling about to see what was happening. One woman remarked, “It’s Dorian,” when we exited, and several people took my picture with their cell phones. The secret service agents pointed toward the middle SUV, as another opened the door for me to enter.
My mother sat with her arms folded and glared at me. “Get in, Dorian,” she ordered. The agent slammed the door when I sat down beside her. “What di