Madam President Read Online Free PDF

indicated Howard Strayer was a retired plumber and 45-year member, and former Union Steward, for the American Plumbers' Union. Blue collar background. I wouldn't have guessed that. Interesting. Anna Strayer was a homemaker, who had been hospitalized for depression several times over the past ten years.
     
    When Dev looked up from her reading, ten minutes later, she was alone in the conference room. Empty cups were everywhere, paper plates were strewn around the room and for the first time she noticed the ticking beeping of an alarm that had been set to remind her of her first appointment. Her coffee was cold, and she pushed the cup away with distaste.
     
    Devlyn shuffled back to the first page of the file and, taking a large bite of her bagel, she picked up her phone.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Lauren began rooting around in her purse, finally finding a small mirror. "Auto drive on. Preset destination number 12. 4213." Lauren dropped her hand from the wheel and pushed her seat back as the car signaled and made a smooth lane change. She glanced at her watch. She was already late. "Increase speed by 10 miles per hour. 4213." She waited for the expected warning beep, then overrode the automatic speed control system with a voice command. "Speed override approved. 4213."
     
    Holding up a small hand mirror, she applied a light coat of pale lipstick. She jumped when her phone rang, causing her to smear her chin with a streak of pink. "Uck." She snagged a tissue from a holder between the seats, and let the phone continue to ring as she wiped her face. On the fifth ring she answered, "Hello."
     
    "Hello," a strong but decidedly female voice burred. "Is this Ms. Lauren Strayer?"
     
    Lauren held the phone away from her face and stared at it as though she'd never seen it before. I know that voice.
     
    "Hello? Ms. Strayer?"
     
    Lauren pressed the receiver back to her ear, impressed, despite the fact that she truly didn't want to be. "This..." She cleared her throat gently. "This is Lauren Strayer."
     
    Dev smiled, easily picking up on the younger woman's surprise and instantly loving the sweet, Southern drawl. "I'm glad to be talking with you myself. Oh, I'm sorry. I'm..."
     
    "The President of the United States," Lauren finished at a total loss. My God! She's calling me about the biography? Herself?
     
    "President-elect, actually." Devlyn kicked her feet up on the table, wishing that her always-ravenous staff hadn't scarfed down all the bagels. She found herself wanting another. "You spoke with my aide, Michael Oaks, yesterday?"
     
    Lauren nodded. "I did." Her shock began to give way to remembered anger. "And I don't appreciate being strong-armed," she said, her tone suddenly cool.
     
    Dev sat up straight, her feet sliding from the table and striking the ground with a loud thud. "What do you mean 'strong-armed'?" What did you do, Michael?!
     
    "Why else was Mr. Oaks accompanied by Mighty Joe Young?"
     
    Mighty Joe Young? Dev closed her eyes. Oh, God. Tell me he didn't bring Francis. "Could you be referring to Francis Davies? The very intense and unfortunate Secret Service agent, whose head happens to grow directly out of his shoulders?"
     
    A laugh escaped Lauren, and she clamped down on it with the palm of her hand. A politician with a genuine sense of humor? It's snowing in hell. "That name sounds familiar," she offered noncommittally, not bothering to wipe the smile off her face.
     
    "Then please allow me to immediately apologize. I'm certain that Francis' presence wasn't intended to intimidate." Please don't ask me why else he was there then.
     
    Lauren held the phone out again and looked at it, wishing could see Devlyn Marlowe's face. She sounded sincere enough. "Perhaps I misunderstood then," she heard herself say.
     
    "Ms. Strayer, your work is both intelligent and insightful. I'm a huge fan."
     
    Lauren was surprised again by Dev's enthusiastic praise and felt her cheeks growing warm. "Th... Thank you." What she