Death of an Intern Read Online Free Page A

in little clusters. I was surprised at the number of nicely dressed young people. Just showed where I hung out.
    We ambled, staying out of the main stream for fear of being sucked in, but did stop for a drink. Jerry got some white wine and I a glass of tonic water. We perused an opulent buffet table and selected some few morsels. This would be dinner for us. I spied a large, tiered cake set off to one side of the room, waiting its turn.
    The small band suddenly launched into a fanfare and the room went immediately silent. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Vice President of the United States and Miss Tracy Grayson.”
    A bustle of activity occurred in a far corner of the room. Secret Service agents preceded a parade of people led by VP Frederick “Rick” Grayson, holding the hand of a teenage girl. His daughter? They were followed, I assumed, by the honorees, Roger and Sally Grayson. The sounds of “Ruffles and Flourishes” marched them in under a large banner that read “Happy 50th Anniversary Mom and Dad.”
    Applause greeted the party, and comments buzzed around the room: “What a way to celebrate your fiftieth,” “He looks wonderful,” “So eligible,” etc.
    â€œThere's Ralph with two men.” Jerry nodded his head off to his left.
    â€œYou don't see family parties like this back in Wisconsin,” I chided.
    â€œJust smile and be gracious. This is my gig,” he said softly.
    â€œNo problem. I don't write for the social page,” I replied coyly.
    â€œThankfully your tape recorder is home,” he said, looking out over the crowd.
    I gave him a poke. The Vice President apparently was not going to say anything to the crowd. Jerry nudged me. “Here comes Ralph.”
    â€œSon-of-a-gun, you actually came,” Morgan said. Although about the same age as Jerry, he was giving way to middle-age.
    They half bear-hugged each other. “We both had the same night off.”
    â€œGood to see you two.” He gave me a peck on the cheek. “You know how many invitations he's ignored?”
    â€œYou're blowing it, pal. I told her this was a once-in-a-lifetime invite.”
    They laughed. Ralph explained what would be happening. We were free to roam, do as we liked, as long as it didn't raise the eyebrows of the Secret Service.
    â€œAny chance Laura and I could meet the Vice President?”
    â€œYou haven't…not even when he was in Congress?”
    â€œNope.”
    â€œWell, come on. The Graysons are very easy people to know, solid mid-America.”
    We moved quickly through the milling people, but I caught questioning expressions from several as we were being escorted toward the power.
    I whispered to Jerry. “Watch out, we're being stared at.”
    â€œMr. Vice President,” Ralph said.
    The VP turned to us. “Ralph.”
    â€œMay I have a moment, sir?”
    â€œCertainly,” he said, giving his full attention to Ralph.
    â€œI'd like to introduce my attorney, friend, and fellow alum, Jerry Fields.”
    The VP extended his hand. “Mr. Fields.”
    They shook. “My wife Laura,” Jerry said.
    â€œMrs. Fields,” the VP said with a slight nod.
    An instant chill ran through me on the “Mrs. Fields” assumption.
    â€œMr. Vice President, is the pretty young lady your daughter?” I asked.
    â€œShe is. Hey, Frankie,” the Vice President called to a woman. “Meet Ralph's attorney Jerry Fields and his wife Laura.”
    â€œI hope Ralph doesn't keep you too busy, Mr. Fields,” the woman, who I recognized as the VP's twin sister, said.
    â€œKeeps me out of trouble so he won't have to defend me,” Ralph laughed.
    The VP slid away. The twins were about Jerry's age, give or take. A cluster had convened around us, people anxious to know who we were.
    â€œWhat a wonderful way to celebrate your parents' anniversary,” I said.
    â€œWe know people in high places,”