No beer for you, Newsman.
“Hey Jimmy! Phone!”
He put the beer back on the bar – was he ever going to get to drink it? He had just got rid of Newton, who talked so much and so fast that Jimmy had felt like he was caught on the interstate without a windshield. He levered himself down off the stool and ambled to the end of the bar where the phone’s receiver had been thoughtlessly placed in a pool of beer. He rolled his eyes at no one in particular, wiped it off with a spare napkin from the pile on the bar and put the receiver to his ear;
“Jimmy Lancaster here. Who is this?”
“Jimmy, get your ass back to the White House right now! Something unbelievable just came over the wires and when I tried to call Gergen for confirmation the switch was jammed! It’s for real, man, so get back there before you miss the briefing that is no doubt about to occur.”
Jimmy’s mind was swimming, first off Nate almost never screamed at him down the phone, plus Brady’s deputy had already called a full lid. It had been a quiet Labour Day. What had happened?