Karine’s nostrils flared as she stepped into the Oval Office. This was the real Oval Office, she thought, not the dismal movie set with backdrops and greenscreens she had worked her first year in the Press Office. It stank, piss and sanitizing chemicals, and something else she could not quite place. Rabbit hutch? Jen was holding onto her arm tightly as they approached Joe, who was staring down at the floor, his nurse/granddaughter Finnegan hovering behind him with a tight smile on her face.

“Mr. President?” Jen asked. “I have someone for you to meet.” Joe had met Karine a dozen times previously.

Joe lifted his head and a too-wide smile spread across his face. He threw out his hands. “Madam Vice President,” he rasped and moved in for a hug.

“No, no,” Jen said, taking the hug instead, “This is Karine. She’s going to take over my job. Because I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Joe asked. “When did this happen? Why wasn’t I informed?”

“I’m going to MSNBC, sir. We discussed this. The DNC assigned me there for the midterms.”

“What am I supposed to do without my sweet Strawberry?”

“It’ll be OK, sir. You’re going to love Karine.”

“Who is Karine?”

“This is Karine,” Jen said, doing the you-just-won-a-car! sweep of the hands toward Karine. The woman flashed her white white teeth and did an awkward curtsy.

“Karine!” Joe said and lurched toward her. “Welcome aboard the Administration.”

Karine stuck out her hand and Joe ignored it to lean in and sniff deeply.

“Coco butter,” he mumbled. “And pussy.” Finnegan slapped away Joe’s hand before he could touch her hair.

“We don’t touch Black women’s hair, Grandpa,” she muttered.

“Oh, that’s right. They’re very sensitive about their hair. It’s the source of their power, like, like, like, Shazam in the Bible.”

“Samson,” Jen said automatically.

“I don’t really eat much fish,” Joe replied. Finnegan swallowed a despairing giggle.

“Kamala told me, but…” Karine began.

“I know, you really have to see it for yourself,” Jen said.

“I’m going to go over here,” Joe said, vaguely gesturing toward the windows behind his desk.

“OK, sir!” Jen said, terminally perky.

“Blackberry?” Joe whispered to himself.

“Never,” Finnegan told him. “Never, never, never.”