Naptown 21 - Summer Internship - 9. A Day at the White House - David

Summer Internship

A Naptown Tales Novel by Altimexis & David of Hope

A Day at the White House - David
by Altimexis

I groaned at the sound of four different alarms on four different cell phones all going off at the same time. There had to be a better way.

Pulling myself out of bed, I stretched to my full six-foot, four-inch height and then some, and then I realized - first of all, I was naked in a room I was sharing not only with my wonderful boyfriend, but with two other gay guys; and secondly, that I was sporting a full-fledged boner that was sticking up at a 45-degree angle, and everyone was staring at it. Jeremy was simply grinning at it. He’d seen it thousands of times before, but Trevor and Kurt’s mouths were open and they seemed to be in shock. Not that my equipment was unusually large that I was aware of, but I’m a tall guy to begin with, and my equipment was proportional to my size.

“You can look, but you can’t touch,” Jeremy said as if reading the looks on their faces. “That’s all mine.”

“Sorry guys,” I said. “I’m not used to sharing a room with anyone besides Jeremy.”

“Same here,” Trevor agreed as he got out of bed, his boner leading the way as he walked to the bathroom. The sound of piss hitting water a few seconds later told us he was taking care of business.

One thing we’d all agreed on last night was that since we all slept in the nude at home, we weren’t going to change our ways here, and so we’d all gone to bed naked. Sleeping in separate beds, it wasn’t like there was anything that was going to happen, or could be alleged to happen, anyway. Little did we realize at the time how naïve that assumption would turn out to be.

After Trevor emerged from the bathroom in a sleepy, but obviously relieved daze, I went in and emptied my bladder, and then exchanged a brief peck on the lips with Jeremy as he went in to do likewise. Finally, Kurt had his turn at the toilet. I almost did a double take when I saw Kurt’s equipment. Proportionally, he was the best hung of us all.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it?” Trevor said when he caught me staring.

“I’d hate to imagine what it’s like to bottom for that!” I said, and then immediately regretted it, realizing I’d said something far too personal. Turning beet red, I immediately said, “I’m sorry, Trev. I’m really sorry, Kurt. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No worries, Dave,” Trevor replied. “It’s prolly what everyone’s thinking. I’m not ashamed to tell you that I live to bottom for my Kurt, either. His love fills me up inside . . . literally!”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said.

“So how are we gonna do this?” Kurt asked. “Four guys and one bathroom?”

“Do you shave, Kurt?” I asked.

“He thinks he needs to shave at least once a week,” Trevor said, ribbing his boyfriend, “but he could prolly go the whole summer without shaving and we’d never notice it.”

“Very funny,” Kurt said. “You’d be the first to complain, too, when you tried to kiss me. Just because you cant see my blond stubble doesn’t mean it’s not there, and I’m up to twice a week, now. I can wait another day or two, but I do need to shave very soon, and I’ll need to shave again before the Medal ceremony on Sunday.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “The shower stall’s pretty small, so I think group showers or showering in pairs is out.

“Anyone here use an electric shaver?” I asked.

“I do,” Trevor answered.

“I can use either,” Kurt said, “and if it’d help, I’ll use Trevor’s.”

“Yeah, it would,” I said. Trevor and Kurt, you guys go first. If you shower and brush your teeth first, you can shave out here. Then Jeremy and I can jump in the shower and shave at the same time you’re shaving.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Trevor said as he got out his toiletries and headed for the bathroom.

Well, it did sound like a plan, but we still managed to get in each other’s way more often than not, and barely made it down in time for the breakfast orientation session. Trevor and Kurt looked really cute in their page uniforms. Jeremy looked stunningly handsome in his suit. There was no other word to describe him, except possibly . . . beautiful.

As soon as we entered the Webster Hall dining room, all conversation stopped. It was pretty obvious that the people we’d met last night had spread their knowledge of us to the rest of the 28 senatorial pages who would be with us for the summer, or at least for the next three weeks. Many of them gave a scowl at us, and some of them even moved away from us as we took our seats. Talk about making us feel welcome.

As heaps of food were plopped down in front of us at the table, the Sergeant at Arms began the orientation session. I took one look at the food and quickly realized I would starve if I didn’t speak up, and soon. The man had barely begun to speak, when I raised my hand.

“Mr. Reynolds, I’ll be taking questions at the end of the session and in response to specific points I make. I haven’t even begun to speak and already you have a question?”

“It’s the food, sir,” I replied. “I specifically wrote that I’m a vegetarian. I was very specific about that when asked if I had any dietary requirements. I wrote that I could eat fish and seafood, and that dairy products are OK, but I will not eat any meat or poultry products. These hash browns are laden with bacon, and the scrambled eggs are loaded with sausage.”

“The bacon and sausage are both made from turkey, not pork,” the Sergeant at Arms replied.

“Last time I checked, turkey is still poultry,” I explained.

“Well, there is a fruit cup at your place as well, and I assume you can still eat the fruit,” he answered, which got a round of laughter from all the pages due to it’s double meaning.

“You can have my fruit cup, too, David,” Jeremy offered, “and believe me, this will all be taken care of by nightfall. You have my word on it. You’re paying six hundred a month for a crappy room with a crappy twin bed and a shared bath. The least they could do is give you decent food. One phone call will clear this up.”

Wow, it must be nice to be able to wield that kind of power. Come to think of it, a call to my dad would probably get the same results - I just was more reluctant to go that route. Jeremy was more accustomed to politics and power, but I was more consumed with political passion. We were an interesting pair.

Trevor and Kurt were kind enough to give me their fruit cups as well, so I definitely didn’t starve, but the whole thing was certainly nerve wracking. In the meantime, the Sergeant at Arms went through a whole bunch of policies and procedures for Webster Hall, and he went over the Code of Ethics, emphasizing the history of scandals that had plagued the page program in the past. He made it clear that boys were not allowed on the girls’ floor after curfew, and vice versa, and that we weren’t allowed in other pages’ rooms under any circumstances, whether by invitation or otherwise, regardless of the gender of the occupant. Fraternization was to take place in the lounges and only in the lounges.

He went on to say, “Now I understand that some of you are gay. That is nothing new. There have always been gay pages, just as there have always been gay senators and gay representatives. Some of our worst scandals have arisen when our Congressmen have attempted to take advantage of pages by luring them into inappropriate sexual relationships, so beware. The fact that some of you are openly gay may make this particularly dangerous, and if anyone makes a pass at you or you think someone has made a pass at you, come see me and we’ll nip it in the bud. I know most of the Congressmen who are gay, even if they don’t know they are gay.

“One thing I want to emphasize while we’re on the subject is that just because you are gay and you share a room with other gay pages, that is not a green light to have sex with them in your room. The Code of Conduct still applies. I don’t care if you are in a committed relationship with that person and have been for umpteen years, or if you’re engaged to be married to that person. Sex in Webster Hall, whether it’s between boys and girls, or between people of the same gender, is strictly forbidden. Just because it’s with a roommate is no excuse. If you are caught having sexual relations with anyone in Webster Hall, you will be expelled from the Page Program.”

‘Well, so much for fun,’ I thought. If we wanted to do anything, Jeremy and I would have to go to a hotel. How sleazy. I wondered if they’d throw people out just for jerking off in their own rooms, too.

The rest of the orientation session dealt with items that were more specific to the Page Program, such as protocols and procedures, different duties, rotation of duties and reporting to the different senators’ offices. True to form, each page was given a digital pager by which they could be reached at any time, day or night.

After the orientation session was over, we all returned to our room, brushed our teeth once more and made sure our laptops were locked away securely. Jeremy and I then met Will in front of the building, where he was already waiting for us, right on time, in a midnight blue 911 Carrera 4S Cabriolet. What a sweet ride! You could buy a small condo for what it cost!

“I’ll get in back,” Jer volunteered. “I think you’ll need all the leg room you can get in this thing,” he suggested as he gave me a quick peck on the lips and climbed in back.

“Nice set of wheels,” I said as I got in front with Will.

Sighing, Will said, “It has its advantages, but there are times I’d gladly give it all away for what you and Jeremy have. Don’t get me wrong . . . I don’t think I could ever be comfortable the way you guys are, but to be able to have a fraction of the happiness you two share would be so awesome. A car is just a car, and let’s face it, how often do you get a chance to drive one of these flat-out in Washington traffic?”

Smiling, I said, “Jer hadn’t even had his license one week when he got pulled over in his Boxter. Sometimes I think this much car is more of a liability than an advantage.”

“You would have to bring that whole thing up,” Jeremy chided me.

In no time at all, we pulled up at the White House and, much to my surprise, were ushered inside, where the Porsche underwent a complete underbody search for bombs. As we parked in a side lot by the West Wing, I commented, “I didn’t think mere interns would be allowed to park here.”

“Believe me, we’re not,” Will explained, “but Rahm gave me a one-day pass for today only. Usually, I walk from my apartment and, after today, you’ll need to walk or take a limo or a shuttle bus from Webster Hall.”

Making our way into the West Wing, Will introduced us to some of the other interns, as well as to a variety of White House staffers as we went. I didn’t know how I would ever manage to keep track of all the names and faces of the people we were meeting, and yet he seemed to know them all. As if he’d read my mind, he said, “I know it’s a lot to take in, guys, but keep in mind that I’ve already been here a couple of weeks. I had a substantial head start on you.”

We started, not unexpectedly, on the ground floor, where we were immediately introduced to the Secret Service officer in charge. We already had our ID badges, and of course had undergone full background checks before we ever left home - not that a couple of sixteen-year-olds would be expected to have much of a background in the first place.

Will took us on a tour of the ground floor of the West Wing, including the Situation Room, which was really, really cool, and the swimming pool. All in all, I was surprised at how compact the West Wing really is.

We headed up a flight of stairs and came out right by the Vice-president’s office; however, the Vice-president was on ‘The Hill’ at the time, and passed by the office of the President’s National Security Advisor. At that moment, as I passed by that office, I had a sudden and strange thought that I should stop and say hello to Trevor. Very strange . . . I knew Trev was on Capitol Hill, so why did I expect him to be in the office of the National Security Advisor? We passed through the main lobby of the West Wing and by the office of the President’s Press Secretary, and again I had a strange sensation that I should stop and give my regards to my friend Lance Cohen. But Lance was attending Northwestern University’s famous Medill School of Journalism, and was currently back in Indiana. Why did I expect to see him here?

Will showed us the Cabinet Room, which was currently vacant. Well duh, of course it was vacant, or we would have never been allowed to see it now, but again I had a strange sensation of déjà vu. I imagined seeing the room as it would be at a time of crisis, filled with people, but not with the current president and his cabinet. Altaf was there, and so was Gary Phillips, but most every other face was one I didn’t recognize. What the significance of this vision might be, if one could even call it that, I had no idea.

Next introducing us to President Obama’s secretary, Will asked, “So where’s the president today?”

“Actually, he’s in the office for a change,” she answered. “Would you like to see him and introduce the boys?” she asked.

“They’ve already met, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind seeing him again,” Will replied.

Pushing a button, she said, “Mr. President, I have a couple of new interns out here, if you have a moment.”

“Please, send them in,” boomed the reply.

“Go on in,” she told us.

Will led the way as we quietly entered the Oval Office. I’d previously seen mock-ups of the Oval Office at the Truman Presidential Library in Independence, Missouri and at the Clinton Presidential Library in Little Rock, Arkansas, but nothing could compare to the experience of walking into the real Oval Office and shaking the hand of the President of the United States.

Even though I’m a couple of inches taller than President Obama, he’s such a ‘larger-than-life’ figure. He stands tall and he has a certain presence about him. I know people have said the same thing about me, but with his finely tailored suit, his dazzling smile, his straight teeth and the way his eyes latch onto your own like a laser, you know you have his undivided attention from the start. I absolutely admire the man, even more so now that I’ve met him. Yes, I still fault him for not being more proactive on gay rights - and I’m not going to let him off the hook so easily on that - but he’s doing a hell of a job marshalling the country and the world through what I still believe to be an economic depression. I may just have to cut him a little slack while he deals with the economic crisis, but gay rights will have to come, too.

“David, it’s good to see you again,” President Obama said to me with his trademark warm smile as he shook my hand.

“It’s great to be here, Mr. President,” I said in reply. “I want to thank you again for extending this opportunity to Jeremy and me.”

“It’s an opportunity that’s well deserved,” he said as he released my hand and moved on to Jeremy.

“Jeremy, welcome to the White House,” the president said as he shook my boyfriend’s hand.

“Thank you, sir. It’s my pleasure, and a privilege to be here,” Jeremy replied.

“You know,” Obama started to ask, “a lot of women would be envious of your hair, and I suppose many guys too if I’m going to be fair, but how do you swim with such long hair? Doesn’t it affect your times?”

Sighing, I said, “Jeremy’s beautiful golden hair is one of the things I enjoy the most about him, but even the largest cap can’t easily cover it all.”

Turning to my boyfriend, I said, “Jeremy, you heard what the President said. I love your hair, but it would sadden me to think you might have lost out on your dream of making the Olympic Team because of your hair. Let’s face it, you’re going to have to cut it when you enter the professional world. When it comes time for the Olympic team trials, please cut your hair short. I won’t love you any less,” I said with a smile.

“You two act like an old married couple,” President Obama remarked.

“We are an old married couple,” Jeremy agreed. “We’ve been together two years now, and we’re definitely getting married when we turn eighteen. We’re high school sweethearts . . . no different than if we were a boy and a girl.”

“Mr. President,” Will broke in, “I know you’re a busy man, so we won’t take any more of your time. Thanks for seeing us.”

“Actually, it’s my pleasure, boys,” the president said. “Gay rights hasn’t exactly been a ‘front burner’ issue for me these days, but it is important to me. It’s one of those things that’s a ‘hot button’ topic, however, and ramming something down the nation’s collective throat could easily cause a backlash that no one wants to see. We want to do this right and we want to see real progress that leads to true gender equality.

“At the end of the day, boys, I want Americans to feel comfortable with the notion that marriage is a fundamental right that applies to all, no matter whom they choose to marry; I want Americans to feel comfortable with the idea that every child is entitled to a happy home, regardless of the makeup of that home; and I want more than anything to dispel the myth that gay men and women are any more likely to violate someone’s personal space than are straight men and women, particularly as it applies to the military.

“But as young children, we were all taught to fear the boogieman. A half-century ago, the boogieman was a black man. In some places, he was an Asian, a Latino, or a Jew. Throughout history, we were always taught to fear the stranger who would entice little boys to get into cars, and there was always the supposition that all gay men and women were perverts who preyed on children.

“You two have played a major role in changing attitudes in one of the most conservative states in the Union. While you’re here, I’m definitely going to be picking your brains to see how we can try to replicate that on a larger scale, and start a dialog that could lead to larger things, nationwide.

“Oh, and David?”

“Yes sir?” I asked.

“Have you seen the movie, Milk, yet?” the president asked me.

“Yes, of course. Both Jeremy and I have seen it,” I answered.

“Good. I would have shown it to the two of you if you hadn’t,” he replied.

Continuing, he said, “Don’t let anyone tell you, you can’t make it in politics because you’re gay. You have the personality, the drive, the ambition and the mind to make it. You have everything you need to occupy this office one day. I sense that about you. I know you probably have your doubts . . . everyone does. You have to want it to succeed.”

Turning to my boyfriend, he said, “Jeremy, although you may walk in David’s shadow, you have all those same qualities. You could just as easily occupy this office someday, if you want to. Whether or not you do so is strictly up to you. I sense great things for the both of you. Rahm read my mind when he offered the two of you internships this summer. You belong in this White House. I think you will learn a lot here.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Jeremy said in seeming disbelief. I could tell that he was largely star struck by Obama’s comments.

“Thank you, as well, Mr. President,” I added.

“Enjoy yourselves, boys,” the president said. “From time to time, I’ll invite you to have lunch when I’m free.”

With that, Will ushered us out of the Oval Office and into the corridor outside. He showed us the Roosevelt Room across the way, which was a large conference room not unlike the Cabinet Room. Finally, he took us to meet Mr. Emanuel. As we approached the Chief of Staff’s office, once again, I had a feeling I should be meeting someone else there - this time Kurt. Why would I expect to meet Kurt there? I knew damn well he was paging on ‘The Hill’ along with Trevor. The whole thing made no sense.

I presumed that Will would ask for an appointment, or at minimum ask if Mr. Emanuel was free, but he just marched right past the Chief of Staff’s personal assistant, or secretary, or whatever she is called and simply asked, “Hey Cin, may we go in?” Just like that. Talk about informal.

“You know, anyone but you, he’d raise a fit, darlin’,” she said. She then pushed a button and said, “Will’s here.”

Before Emanuel could even answer, Will had already opened the door and barged on in, with us in tow.

“Will,” Emanuel said, “how many times do I have to tell you. One of these days you’re going to catch me in the midst of getting a blowjob.” Both Will and Emanuel then burst out laughing, and Emanuel went on to say, “Of course then I’d have to return the favor, but with you, it’d be a guy giving you the blowjob.” Man, did Will’s face color up with that remark.

“Rahm, please. How do you know I’m even out to David and Jeremy, anyway?” Will admonished the Chief of Staff.

“You’re right, Will. I shouldn’t have assumed that. I naturally assumed you all had gaydar, but I know that’s really just a myth. You are, though, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Amazingly, yeah,” Will replied. “I didn’t even have to tell them. They picked up on it right away, even with me telling them about my girlfriend.”

“Speaking of which,” Rahm interjected, “I heard you had a rough time of it over the weekend.”

Will sank his whole body into one of the plush chairs in the office and buried his head in his hands. “I’d really like to forget the whole thing. If it hadn’t been for David and Jeremy, and their friends, I don’t know what I’d have done. They really helped me keep my cool. What a fucked up bitch of a girlfriend I have.

“Rahm, I need a girlfriend for a cover, and she’s from a good family, but she could have really wrecked my whole career,” Will despaired.

“What exactly happened?” Emanuel asked.

“After showing the boys around, getting them settled in at Webster Hall and taking them out to lunch at a great sushi place in Arlington, they asked if they could see my place at the Watergate. When we stopped there, we found Sherrie passed out on the bed, with a couple of lines of unused coke on the nightstand.

“The guys were great. Jeremy did some basic first aid stuff . . . getting the airway cleared and restoring breathing while I called 9-1-1, but we all ended up spending the rest of the weekend at DC Police HQ. Jer’s and my parents came and their lawyers provided counsel, and my apartment was searched. Of course I underwent a drug screen, which came back clean. It’s been a long time since I’ve used anything.”

“Did you know she was a user?” Emanuel asked.

“Yeah, I knew, and I’d been trying to get her to quit or at least cut down for quite some time. Letting her move in with me like that was a big mistake,” Will admitted.

“Did you get rid of her stash before the police arrived?” Emanuel asked.

“Thanks to David, I did,” Will replied, nodding his head in my direction. “I don’t think I’d have thought of it if he hadn’t suggested it. I flushed with some Clorox, too.”

“That bit of quick thinking more than anything may have saved your career, Will. You’re forever in David’s debt. Any significant quantity of coke found in your apartment would have made you an accessory, and the presumption would have been that you’re a dealer. The stain of a felony drug conviction would have made the goal of political office an elusive one for you.”

Turning toward me and looking me directly in the eye, he said, “Don’t get me wrong, tampering with evidence is a felony, and if you’d been caught, it could have ended your political career, David. The one thing in your favor is that you’re a minor and there’s a chance, with help from your parents’ lawyers, you’d have gotten tried in juvenile court with a sealed record that would have gone away in two years, but I wouldn’t want to count on that. At sixteen, you could still be tried as an adult.

“The bottom line is that you gave your friend advice and he acted on that advice in a way that likely saved his career. Although what you did was technically aiding and abetting, I think you did what anyone would have done under the circumstances. I think you did the right thing, but I will deny ever saying that if asked by the press,” he said with a smile.

“Now then,” the President’s Chief of Staff continued, “Mr. Reynolds, Mr. Kimball, welcome to the White House. Will is a longtime family friend and he tends to get away with murder around here. Whatever you do, don’t do as he does. He calls me ‘Rahm’, and occasionally he calls me some other choice names, but I’d appreciate it if you call me ‘Mr. Emanuel’, particularly around the other interns. I know they call me other things when I’m not around, but we’re trying to command some respect around this office.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Emanuel,” I said as I shook the man’s hand.

“You bet, Rahm, old buddy,” Jeremy said as he shook Mr. Emanuel’s hand. ‘Did my shy, reserved boyfriend really say that?’

“You are way too much like Will,” Mr. Emanuel said as he shook Jeremy’s hand. “The two of you could have been twin brothers. I’m going to have to keep my eye on you.”

It was at that moment that I realized that Will and Jeremy did indeed have a lot in common and shared very similar backgrounds, the only major differences being that Will’s parents had a lot more money, had been a bit dishonest in order to get it, and had been much less accepting of their son’s homosexuality. Other than that, they could have been twins, or more likely, cousins.

From Emanuel’s office, Will took us up to the second floor, where all the staff offices were, including all the interns’ cubicles - not that we’d actually have a chance to spend much time there, or so we were told.

As interns, we were largely glorified gophers, running to do the bidding of one or another of the President’s key staffers, or occasionally of the President himself. Unlike Trevor and Kurt, however, we weren’t paid for our work and, hence, we were also here to learn the ropes. In fact, if we ever did do substitute work for a paid position, we were supposed to be put on the payroll and given a paycheck. Because of this, we all had to fill out employment paperwork, just in case that happened during our time as interns. The paperwork was also required for us to receive benefits, which included liability coverage, employee discounts, the employee food service, and optional healthcare coverage, which we wouldn’t need, since we were covered under our parents’ insurance.

After Will introduced us to the second floor staff, he set us up with user accounts on the White House computer network and showed us how to access some of the basic software we might be asked to use. Of course, we were restricted from accessing classified information, but we were able to access some surprisingly important information, such as the President’s calendar. As Will pointed out, however, our access to the information was tracked, so we definitely would not want to access it unless we truly needed it.

By lunchtime, we felt we’d already put in a pretty long day. When our stomachs started to rumble, Will said, “Usually, we’d just grab lunch in the staff dining room here at the White House, but since we have wheels, would you guys like to see if Trevor and Kurt are free for lunch?”

Rather than answering, Jeremy got out his iPhone. “Hey Trev,” he said when someone answered, “You and Kurt free for lunch by any chance? S’OK if you’re not, being the first day and all, but since Will has his car, we could swing by and pick you up.”

After a moment of listening, he continued, “Oh, I see.” Turning to Will, Jeremy said, “How long before we’d go to lunch?”

“We could go anytime,” Will answered.

“We could make it anytime, Trev,” Jeremy spoke into his iPhone. After a pause, he continued, “Yeah, OK, we’ll wait to hear from you.”

Turning back to us, he said, “Kurt’s not with him, so he’s not sure they can both make it. He’s going to call Kurt and try to pin down a time they’re both free, and then call me back.

“One thing I’m wondering about, Will,” Jeremy asked. “The 911’s a tight squeeze for four people. How are we gonna fit five of us in it?”

Laughing, Will answered, “Kurt’ll have to sit in Trevor’s lap, You guys will have to be wedged in real tight in back and we’ll have to pray we don’t get into an accident. In any case, we won’t go far.”

Just then, Jer’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Yeah, Trevor, what’s the deal?” he said off the bat. “Uh huh, that’s great! We’ll pick you up in front of Hart in twenty minutes, and Kurt in front of the Supreme Court building in twenty-five. See ya.”

Turning to Will, Jeremy said, “Got that?”

“Loud and clear,” Will chuckled.

The ride, after we picked up Kurt, was comical to say the least. We ended up driving to Georgetown, where parking was practically non-existent, but we eventually did find a space. We ate at a really cute Mediterranean restaurant that had an outstanding vegetarian sampler that was humongous. It was easily enough for Jeremy and me to share while everyone else had their gyros. I was really proud of Jer . . . he was becoming less and less dependent on meat every day.

Noticing me staring at him, he said, “What?”

“Well, you could have had what they’re having, you know,” I answered him.

“Yeah, but it makes you so happy to see me eat this stuff, and besides, meat kinda grosses me out now, and it’s all your fault,” he pouted.

Instead of saying anything more, we just gave each other a quick peck on the lips. We were totally in love with each other. When Trevor and Kurt saw what we did, Trevor pulled Kurt into him and gave him a quick snuggle, which brought smiles to both their faces. Will, on the other hand, looked so lonely.

“Is there any word on Sherrie?” I asked him, recalling the events of the weekend.

Sighing, he said, “I expect she’s going to be released from the hospital later today. She really needs to be there at least another day, but her parents are raising a real stink, and they usually get their way. Their attorneys have made a deal with the DC police . . . she’ll go into a drug rehab program and the charges will mysteriously just go away. It’s really amazing how far a little money can go when it comes to such things. The problem is that Sherrie isn’t cooperating with any of it. She doesn’t want to go into rehab. She doesn’t want to go home with her parents . . . and she’s an adult capable of making her own decisions.”

“What happens if she refuses to go along with the plea her parents worked out?” Trevor asked.

“Well, they can’t force her to go with them, but they can certainly pay any of her fines. She might end up with some real jail time, but then her parents might feel sorry for her and since it’s a first offense and since there was so little coke on her at the time, their attorneys might get her sentence reduced to probation only, in which case she’ll end up back in my apartment, probably snorting up all over again.”

“If that happens, you gotta kick her out,” I stated emphatically.

“I know that, but how?” Will asked with obvious incredulity written on his face. “She won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and her parents, with their fucked-up logic, will expect me to be her drug rehab under the circumstances. I’m so totally screwed,” he practically cried.

“Can’t your parents help?” I asked.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dave,” Jeremy broke in. “Will’s parents will side with Sherrie’s parents. They’ll expect him to help her. It’s ‘the right thing to do,’ so to speak.”

“Damn,” was all I could say.

“We better get back,” Will pointed out.

“Definitely, before the senators ‘page’ us,” Kurt agreed.

The rest of the afternoon raced by as Jeremy and I learned a lot about the inner workings of the White House. We each took turns meeting with key staffers, learning about the roles they play in keeping the operations going, and in keeping President Obama informed, and on time. All in all, we had a great day.

When it came time to return to Webster Hall, rather than troubling Will, we took a White House limo back to Capitol Hill, as do most staffers who need transport back and forth between the Capitol and the White House, and as we’d be doing from now on. It was pretty cool!

When we got back to our room, it was obvious that someone had been inside in our absence. Not that there was any sign of forced entry or anything. The lock showed no sign of tampering, and the windows were still locked, but all of our bed linens had been stripped from our beds and thrown on the floor, and our towels had been thrown in the shower and were soaking wet. At least none of our personal belongings had been messed with. That would have been more than unnerving.

We reported the obvious tampering to the Sergeant at Arms, who made a note of it, but there really wasn’t anything else to be done. Concerned that a past occupant of the room might still have a key, I asked if the lock might be changed, and he told us that it would take a week, but he would put in a work order to do just that. We all breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that we would have a brand new lock on the door.

Dinner was a much better affair than breakfast had been - at least as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with Jeremy’s phone call from this morning, but the main entre was salmon, and not one item contained beef, pork or poultry. I could eat everything, and everything tasted great. Not only that, but in contrast to breakfast, all of the pages treated us with respect. It definitely seemed that we were off to a much better start.

After dinner, everyone broke into smaller groups and chatted with each other. We retreated to the lounge and got to know some of the other pages we’d missed on Sunday. Just about everyone asked us if the rumor was true that we were gay. My answer was to the point - “Jeremy and I have been out and proud for two years. We’re not ashamed, and back home we were both elected to the student council, even though everyone knew we’re gay, and I was elected Freshman Class Treasurer, and then Sophomore and Junior Class President.” Kurt then added, “I came out on the front page of the local paper,” and Trevor added, “and I’m the President of our school’s Gay-Straight Alliance so, yeah, the rumors are definitely true.” For good measure, I then threw in, “Anyone else want to come out while we’re at it?”

When the room remained silent, Kurt said, “Too bad. I guess ours will be the only room with an orgy tonight.” The looks on everyone’s faces were priceless. Trevor wasn’t going to leave it like that, however. He quickly threw in, “He’s just kidding, guys. We’re not into group sex. Not by a long shot. We’re committed couples. In fact, Kurt and I are getting married next summer. David and Jeremy are getting married when they turn eighteen, too. There’s no gay sex going on in our room.”

Looking from face to face, it didn’t look like many of the pages believed Trevor, however. No, I think they were taking Kurt all too seriously. . . .

Discuss the Story

⇐ Previous Chapter

Naptown Index

Next Chapter ⇒