“I thought you quit smoking,” she said without hesitation, as if to remind him of his promise.

“I tried my best. I just can’t seem to shake them. I get tired, wore out. They seem to help.” He looked a little sheepish standing in the stairwell of the Renaissance Inn and Resort, fifth floor.

“I’m your wife. I know what’s best for you. You’re a public figure now more than ever. It matters how you are perceived by your team, plus all of your supporters. You have a real chance here to do something special. Just don’t blow it.”

He looked at her, smiled, took a puff, tossed the half-smoked cigarette on the floor and stomped it with his foot. “I can’t believe so much is made of the fact that I used to smoke. I’ve told everyone I’ve kicked the habit and yet here I am hiding in the stairwell to take a hit. I don’t know why.”

He grabbed his wife’s hand and they walked back to their room together to greet their staff. Everyone wants a piece of Obama these days, and he’s not one to disappoint them.