Drama in the Theater

"Only thing I was told, Miss, was to show you the contents of this envelope," Secret Service Agent Tripp explained to Olivia in the corridor off the White House kitchen.

It was apparent he intended to catch Olivia alone.

When she was shown the card inside the envelope, Olivia instantly recognized the embossed logo — it was from the Office of the President of the United States — and the blue ink pen scrawl was in her father's handwriting.

"Movie theater, tonight, 1 a.m.," it read.

After Agent Tripp returned the card and envelope to his coat pocket, he offered Olivia a casual two-fingered salute from his forehead and made a smart turn on his heels and stepped away from her.

Olivia had been summoned by the President. By her father.

But why? She knew better than to tell her mother. This was obviously something her dad wanted to keep private.

Sneaking from her room that night was easy. Her quarters and her mom's we're far enough apart that Olivia could pretty much come and go as she pleased. Winding through the White House halls in her best black Avicii Athletica leggings, plaid skirt and light grey knit top, Olivia took the East elevator down to LL-1. She'd been to staff movie nights before, so she knew exactly where the theater was.

At the end of the last long corridor, she could see Agent Tripp standing guard outside the double doors that led into the red velvet-walled presidential theater. He held the door for Olivia's entrance.

An old black and white cowboy movie flickered on the screen down front, highlighting her father's silhouette in the center of the otherwise empty room. Olivia drew a deep breath for courage and approached the row where the most powerful man in the world was seated.

When he finally noticed her standing in the aisle, her dad waved her to come take the seat next to his.

"Mister President," Olivia spoke loudly over the noise of a gun fight playing out on the screen.

"It's nice to see you Honey Bite," he said, using his pet name for Olivia, a name which she had always detested. "You can call me Dad in here you know — there's no one to hear you."

"That's comforting," Olivia came back, her words dripping with sarcasm.

"Do you know this one?" her dad asked, pointing at the screen. 'Law and Order' with Ronald Reagan, 1953. It's a good one."

"Why did you bring me down here?"

"Sure, sure. It's always right to the point with you isn't it?"

Olivia watched the movie and waited for the explanation.

The President rested his hand gently over Olivia's on the armrest.

"I know none of this has been easy for you."

Olivia pulled her hand away in reply.

"Look, I justed wanted you to know that I'm getting you a car for your 16th birthday -- a rebuilt '68 Mustang -- but it has to be parked over at Blair House. There's a logistical problem with keeping it on the residence grounds here."

"I don't want a car," Olivia said with icy resolve. "And speaking of Blair House, would please ask your Vice President to stay the hell out of my bedroom and my pants at night?"

Now it was the president's turn to stare at the screen in silence.

"Well?" Olivia demanded, breathing hard.

"I'm afraid my hands are tied on that score."

"Fuck. Yeah, your hands are tied. What about mine when she's on top of me?" Olivia stood up and headed for the aisle.

"Olivia, you know how important it is that you keep our secret safe, don't you?"

Olivia turned to face the president.

"Our secret? Our secret? Don't you mean YOUR secret?"

He reached out his hand for hers, but Olivia pulled away.

"Olivia, there are people willing to do bad things to you and your mother — um, like permanently bad things — if they think there's a chance this is going to be made public."

The president stood and looked into his daughter's eyes in the flickering glow of the film.

"Please, don't force these people. I don't want you and your mom to pay for my poor decisions."

Olivia looked at the floor.

"I understand," she said, and then turned and walked out of the theater with tears streaming down her cheeks.