Who absolutely cannot be allowed to know what he’s doing. I mean, I can’t imagine she doesn’t know he’s cheating on her but she apparently has her own life, career, and hobbies, which keep her busy, including spending time with their grandchildren.
I’d seriously have to question if I could really take a bullet for someone like him, if called for. I will never violate the oath I took when I was sworn in as a Secret Service special agent, but…
A guy’s gotta havesomestandards.
I’m already receiving lucrative offers from the private sector. Guys who were on the tail-end of their career when I first started, and who have since moved on, who are putting my name into various hats as a candidate who’d be a good choice to woo away from the USSS.
It’s nice to know I’ll have options when I need to leave.
I’d rather it not be right now, though. I’ve got goals. I want to be running the PPD by the time I’m ready to retire.ThenI can take some cushy corporate security job for a much higher salary.
So far, there’s still plenty of good left in what I’m doing to keep me dragging myself out of bed every morning and putting on a suit, or whatever I’ll need to wear for the day’s activities.
At least Fullmer isn’t a jogger. If he is elected, the hardest part of our job will be keeping his wife from killing him or his mistresses.
It’s not even that big of a secret. Lots of people on the Hill know about Fullmer’s cheating, and it’s even the subject of frequent jokes. But everyone has their own skeletons, so they all sort of protect each other. It’s ridiculous.
Maybe it pisses me off more than a little that the cheating old bastard is getting more tail than I am.
Such is the life I lead.
I don’t dare bitch about this—what I can bitch about—to my family, either. They’ll cluck their tongues and sadly shake their heads at me and tell me that maybe I could move back home and return to school. That it’s not a failure to admit you need a career change.
It leaves me hating to return home for visits during the holidays.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. My parents are great, and my little sister is brilliant, if annoying in a little-sister way. Except they don’tgetme.
Had I opted to become a practicing psychologist, or gone into academia, they would have been immensely proud of me.
I hate to say they’re stereotypical liberal coastal elites…except that’s exactly what they are. They always “tease” me about carrying a gun, which is something else they’re staunchly against.
I’m a federal law enforcement officer. Damn right I carry a gun. I can’t stop a would-be assassin by pointing a baton at them and blowing a fricking whistle.
My parents have been blessed with privileged lives marked by practically no chaos, financial desperation, or grotesque tragedy darkening their existence. They both came from families with money. They make the right sounds and give money to the right causes. Yes, they were amazingly supportive of me when I came out. It was a non-issue, to them.
Okay, you’re gay. That’s nice. Pass the mashed potatoes, honey.
No, that’s literally how it happened.
Washington DC is another world in so many ways. Politically, demographically—it’s definitely not California.
I’m one of those politically weird creatures, where I’m really purple. Socially I’m liberal but fiscally, and when talking about national defense, I’m conservative. Our family was staunchly agnostic growing up, so I follow a policy of strict separation of church and state in how I look at things. Keep your god out of my government, and I’ll keep my government away from your god.
Meanwhile, I’ll uphold the oath I took and do my job.
Today it’s me, Brad, Mike, and Andy on this early morning flight on a small plane barely large enough to hold all four of us. We took a commercial flight into Spokane late yesterday. This morning, we have stops to make in Bozeman, Idaho Falls, and Jackson, Wyoming. The main rally will be held in Bozeman, but the senator wants appearances in the other two towns to help fellow GOP candidates running for vulnerable congressional seats.
I’m not fond of small planes but I’ve flown on worse, and at least the scheduled flights are short.
We’re about fifteen minutes outside of Spokane and the weather over the mountains is shitty. It deteriorated overnight because of a weather front that moved in. Thick cloud cover, and the flight feels a little bumpier than I’d like.
Worse?
The pilot thinks he’s a comedian. He’s been making horrible puns and dad jokes ever since we took off, and I’m seriously considering pulling my gun on him just to shut him the fuck up.
Since I’m the lead agent, I’m wearing the other set of headphones.
Lucky me.
