What It Takes Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    “And I’ve decided, I can be happy with that.”
    And he had been happy. That’s what no one could get through their heads, except Bar, of course. That’s one of the reasons he loved her: she understood things without talking. She was better at it than he was!
    What was the Vice Presidency?
    A wonderful adventure.
    He had decided— they had decided—that it would be, just as he had decided how he was going to do the job. This was the ultimate triumph of discipline, and George Bush’s greatest talent: the power of mindset. He could decide—they could decide—how it was going to be, and then it was that way ... because no one, no one , would ever see them treating it any other way.
    They loved the Reagans.
    Why?
    Because they loved the Reagans. They had decided.
    And it didn’t start in 1980. Talent like that comes from a lifetime. There was the time George Bush’s career picked them up and moved them to Houston, and the wife of a business friend gave a tea for Barbara, to show her off to the ladies.
    So they came to meet her, and one after the other, they asked: “And where do you come from?”
    Bar said sweetly: “I live in Houston now.”
    “Oh. Yes, but ... where do you come from?”
    And Bar, with her smile still placid, beatific, replied: “Houston is my home now.”
    They weren’t going to put her in that box, thank you. And they weren’t going to hand her husband a carpetbag, either. She had decided.
    But the brilliance of it was, it wasn’t one party, one lunch with Admiral Dan, or one talk to the staff. It was there every day, unwavering.
    What is the Vice Presidency?
    A wonderful adventure. Every day.
    So, every day, he did a little more, made another friend, signed more photos, wrote more notes to people he’d met ... every day. If no one could see that ... it didn’t matter! He had it in the bank. And every day, he did a little more.
    Fly across the country and back for a ball game?
    A wonderful adventure! He’d get his son Jeb to fly in from Florida, and bring his son, George P. ... And he’d call his eldest son, George, too. George and Laura were in Midland, just across the state, they could fly in, with friends. ... He’d make it a friends-and-family thing. Bar’ll come. Sure, she’ll come. It’ll be fun!
    So the kids flew in to Houston, and they all met at the Astrohall, at the cocktail thing, before the game, and it was fun, sort of ...
    But then they walked to the Dome, and the Service whisked the VP away to some bathroom downstairs, or some damn place, and the others were led to their seats in the park, the Vice President’s party to the owner’s box on the first-base line, and the others to seats somewhat removed. And that was the first bit of trouble: George W. Bush, George Bush the Younger, who’d gotten his wife and a couple of friends, and the friends’ private plane, and had flown across the state from Midland, Texas, to be with his father and mother at the ball game ... Georgie Bush, the firstborn, first son, the biggest and most jagged chip off the old block, Junior , as some friends now called him, George W. Bush ... along with his wife and friends, whom he’d roped into flying across the state, five hundred statute miles, and back, in the same night, for this game, to be with George H. W. , and Barbara Bush ... was sitting off behind home plate.
    “These our seats?”
    Junior’s voice was mild, but the Advance man hastily checked the envelope to make sure. There was edge on that word, “our” ... there was a hint of ominous meaning in the glance Junior cast to his right, toward the field, toward the biblical Box Seat. Suddenly, there was more than a whiff of trouble in the air. This almost subsensory impression was reinforced a moment later, as Junior added quietly:
    “Bullll- sheeit .”
    The Advance man decided he’d better run off and check.
    What the fuck is GOING ON here? They were screwing around with the wrong guy. Junior was now standing,