Kevin's Big Moment - 2. La Tour d'Argent. - by Camy

It was lucky, Kevin thought, that it was still early.

The image of the president's party waiting to be seated played out in his mind, and he couldn't help chuckling.

"Why are you laughing, Kevin?" Nick, the waiter for the presidents table, asked, looking at Dubya in awe.

Kevin prided himself on his swift thinking, and this was as swift a plan as he'd put together since the sixth grade debacle with his hated home-room teacher and the stink bomb. He smiled as he turned to Nick.

"He's not the president, Nick. Just some jerk look-alike hired by Ryan Everett," Kevin narrowed his eyes menacingly as Ryan caught his gaze, "that man, there, in the awful ill fitting suit."

"What, the one who's looking daggers at you?" Nick said, naively.

"That's the one." Kevin shuffled his feet. "He was at the club last night, and told me as he tried it on in the men's room."

"Damn!" Nick looked outraged. "Well don't you worry, Kevin. I'll get him with the old POIW ploy."

"Great, Nick. I'd appreciate it ... erm ...," the thought of another praline cluster crossed his mind, "if you could avoid the look-alike...."

"Oh, like that is it?" Nick glanced at Kevin's face and knew he was right. His colleague obviously had a thing for the man who was looking vacantly at his menu.

"Erm ... yeah."

"Fair do's, but you owe me, ok?"

"For sure Nick, for sure."

Kevin watched from behind a pillar as Nick walked over to the table carrying a brimming carafe of iced water.

The ambience of the restaurant, which was noted for being intimate and, so some said, the perfect location for secret liaisons, was shattered by the deep throated bellow of Ryan Everett cursing, as Nick daintily tripped, and emptied the freezing contents of the pitcher in his lap.

“Feeeerrr Christ sake! Are you a bloody moron or what?” Ryan sputtered, leaping to his feet, and clutching his crotch. “I told you that this was a bad idea, Mr President!”

Dubya looked up, and Kevin saw his grin turn to a more politically correct frown at his security chief’s misfortune.

“Hurry back Ryan, I think I’ve made up my mind.” Dubya turned back to the menu, and Kevin watched him holding back his laughter as Ryan stormed off to the men’s room, still cursing under his breath.

As soon as the men’s room door closed Kevin hurried over.

“Hi, George,” he batted his eyelashes, “fancy seeing you here.”

“Hmm,” Dubya couldn’t hold his laugh any longer, and guffawed, patting the seat next to him. “Sit down for a second, Kevin. That was classic, I’ve never seen Ryan so … well, so discomuculated, and yes, before you ask, you get a tip for it. Kevin grinned, reminding himself to tell Dubya the word was discombobulated, later.

“Thanks George, but it was Nick that did the deed.”

“No problem, Kevin. I think the country can afford tips for two.” They looked at each other, and Kevin felt a distinct frisson, though he doubted the president could pronounce it. Dubya reached across and took his hand.

“Can I see you later tonight?” He murmured seductively. “I’ll bring Godiva along, if you’d like.”

“Oh, yes, I’d like that George, I’d like that very much. How about we try the praline clusters?”

Dubya frowned. “I … erm … don’t think I’ve got any praline clusters. Sorry.”

Kevin pouted. He was going to moue, but thought a pout would probably do as well, considering Ryan was due back from the bathroom any minute.

“No praline clusters for me?” he said in his little boy lost voice, “oh GW, do you really, really care?”

Dubya rolled his eyes, which he always found useful when a problem came his way in congress. He sighed. “I guess we could go by the store again, but Ryan won’t like it.”

“Oh George,” Kevin responded by licking his lips seductively, and bussing Dubya chastely on the cheek. “You do care, I knew you did. Just think what we can do with a box of praline clusters … and if you could … well, just lose that beastly Ryan in a bottomless pit, tonight will be sooooo much more fun.

For the first time in an age Dubya felt himself blush, and reached for his cell.