White House Rules (16 page)

The following Friday, Sameera left her cousin baking up a storm in the third floor kitchen that had become Merry Dude Dairy Farm Fresh Cookies headquarters and headed off to the SARSA meeting by herself.

Mariam had phoned to say she couldn't come to the meeting, so the ride to the café at the edge of GW's campus took only a few minutes. Sameera crawled out of the limo and was immediately blinded by a score of flashes. The Rhinos had followed her, just as she'd known they would. Her agents escorted her safely through the crowd, but several paparazzi trailed her inside.

This time, it took Sameera a while to locate her SARSA friends. She smiled and waved at people who called out her name as she pushed through the throng. Ah, there they were, clustered in a corner—Nadia, stunning as usual, Sangi, with her big, welcoming smile, George, jumping up to pull out a chair for Sameera.

“Hey, you're not in disguise,” George said.

“Nope. I'm food for the media to night, as you can tell. Get ready for an article or two about how you're the love of my life, Mr. George. So how's it been going with you guys?”

“Great,” said Sangi. “We're hosting a guest speaker in a couple of weeks—that Republican, Indian American congressman who was just elected. He's young and hip and supposed to be the
new face of the party
.”

“Nadia's wild about him,” said George. “She's the one who invited him.”

“He's married, you idiot,” Nadia said, punching him on the shoulder. “Two kids. They've even got a turtle, for goodness' sake.”

“What's a turtle got to do with it?” George asked. “And must you resort to violence?”

Sangi grinned. “Moving the conversation along,” she said, “Miranda's movie's fantastic, Sparrow. We couldn't believe how good it is.”

“The feedback so far has been fabulous,” Sameera said. “The next one's going to be even better. She's got hours of footage of food in the White House. She might be using some scenes from our meeting in her third one, but only if you guys give permission, of course.”

“I've got no objections to becoming a movie star,” said Nadia, and that shiny cascade of hair agreed as it danced behind her.

“Me either,” added George. “But I already have to fight the girls off. What's going to happen when my mug shows up on Sparrowblog? Or in the press?” Turning to face the photographers clustered in a corner of the café, he pursed his lips and flexed his biceps. Flashes exploded.

The girls ignored him. “There were lots of good follow-up comments on your post about treasures,” said Sangi.

“Yeah,” said George, “If you'd left in
sexy
and
hot,
most of the people who read Sparrowblog seem to want to go out with
MOI
. Ouch!”

Sangi had punched his other shoulder, but nowhere near as hard as he was pretending, reeling back in a slow-motion
Matrix
ish move.

“
Mine
were
smart
,
motivated
, and
confident
,” said Nadia, ignoring George's bad Keanu Reeves imitation. “I want a guy who respects himself and knows where he's going.”

“I picked
smart
, too, and
tolerant
, and
honest
,” said Sangi.

“
Truthful
wasn't one of my top three,” said George. “I picked
smart
,
fun
, and
adventurous
.”

“So if someone doesn't like hang gliding, you wouldn't go out with her?” Nadia asked.

“Well,
hot
was a close fourth for me, almost a tie, so I guess I'd give the anti–hang glider a date if she was extra babealicious.”

“Where's Mariam to night?” Nadia asked. “She's such a doll; I'm so glad you're going to start bringing her along to our meetings.”

“She couldn't come to night,” Sameera answered. “But she definitely plans to. She so appreciates the way you guys have reached out to her. Which reminds me—my parents gave me the go-ahead to join her in public school.”

“That's fantastic,” George said.

“Wow, Sparrow, you're going to get all kinds of kudos in the press for this move,” added Nadia. “I know that's not why you're doing it, but still.”

“I'll be starting next fall, so get ready to read about it on Sparrowblog.”

“Why next fall?” Sangi asked. “Why not right now?”

“My cousin's with me now,” Sameera answered, startled by the question. “I wouldn't want to leave her in the lurch.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to start now? Then the other kids might have a chance to get used to you. And by next year, you'd feel much more at home.”

“Your cousin sounds really busy, anyway,” Nadia added, a hint of jealousy in her voice. “Her film was great. She's got that cookie-making business, and I read somewhere that she and that gorgeous Tommy Banforth were caught having a romantic coffee somewhere in Georgetown.”

“Oh, that. He was meeting with her to share some legal advice about setting up the cookie-making business. And copyright stuff about her film.”

“Yeah, right,” George said. “I think I'll go to law school.”

“Maybe you guys are right about starting now,” Sameera said thoughtfully. “I'll ask Ran what she thinks, and if she's okay with it, my parents just might give me the green light.”

“Never hurts to try when it comes to the parental units,” said Sangi.

The flashes were going off so fast now, she felt like they were merging into a single strobe-light effect.
It's the Revolutionary Café and Disco,
she thought.

“I'd better go before we get headaches,” she said, getting up. “Thanks for the idea, guys. I'll let you know what happens.”

“Oh, Sparrow, I almost forgot,” said George. “Here's a card from Bobby.”

“You almost forgot?” Sangi and Nadia said it simultaneously.

George shrugged. “Yeah. He told me he didn't want to mail it to the White House because it would take too long to get through to Sparrow, so he sent it to me in another envelope instead. Express mail, I might add.”

Sameera opened the sealed envelope the moment she was alone in her room, but she already guessed what it would say.

The card was one that he'd obviously made before leaving the States. It bore a photo of a soaring sparrow that had just taken off from the ledge of a skyscraper's window. The angle was from a higher window, so you could glimpse the bird's destination—a cozy nest tucked into an elaborate carving on the Gothic church below. Once again, the tiny initials BG in the lower right-hand corner revealed the identity of the photographer.

Sameera gazed for a long time at the sparrow soaring from a high, high building toward what was obviously home, and then she tucked the card in her desk along with the small stash of notes and keepsakes she knew she'd never throw away.

Miranda's movie became an instant hit. On Sparrowblog itself, which was getting more traffic than ever, comment after comment raved about it. Even Sparrowhawk admitted that she was glad to see such intelligent, personal coverage of the First Family. The film was getting a ton of buzz on the rest of the Web, too. It was quickly picked up by ifilmeditmyself.com and downloaded over and over again on different sites and blogs. It seemed like everybody who saw it was enjoying her intimate peek into life in the White House.

Maryfield folks, of course, were beside themselves with pride, and Miranda basked in the lavish praise she got from her parents and grandparents. The success of her first movie made her even more berserk for the camera. She was constantly filming, downloading megabytes of movie, and editing the footage as if she were on assignment for a major motion picture studio.
How the First Family Eats
, her second film, was scheduled to be finished in a few weeks, and she'd asked Sameera to announce the release date on Sparrowblog.

“This film has to be ten times better than the first, Sparrow,” Miranda said. “People expect sequels to stink, so I'm trying to blow everybody away with mine. I've been researching info about film schools, and I'll want the admissions committees to see my best work.”

“I'll post every film you make if you let me do something I've been wanting to do for a while now,” Sameera told her cousin.

“Of course, Sparrow. Anything. Do you want to send Bobby's family some scotchies along with a sympathy card?”

“That would be great. But what I also want is Gaithers's card—the plea sure of shredding it.”

Miranda looked sheepish. “I flushed it the day after you posted my film. The guy was a jerk, Sparrow.”

“Definitely,” Sameera said. Then she lowered her voice to make it sound like a reporter's: “This Academy Award winning movie was directed by Miranda Jane Campbell, who also owns the successful Merry Dude Dairy Farm Fresh Cookies business.” She threw her arms around her cousin, kissed her, and then shifted back to her own voice. “I tell you girl, you're good at so much stuff, you're going to have to
choose
which talent will make you famous. I'm so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Sparrow. It's been an amazing year so far, hasn't it?”

“It certainly has. Which reminds me, Ran. How would you feel if I enrolled in school right now?”

“Now? Why would you want to do that?”

“I figure it's going to take a while for them to get used to me, so the sooner the better. But I don't want to leave you here alone. I mean you came all the way to D.C. to be with me, and—”

“Listen, Sparrow. You've helped me follow my dreams this year. I'd be a bad cousin if I didn't let you follow yours. Maybe we can move my tutoring session with Westfield to the morning so that we can have the afternoons together. But you still have to talk Aunt Liz and Uncle James into an early start.”

Sameera kissed her cousin on the cheek. “You're the best, Ran.”

“I sure hope Tommy Banforth agrees with you.”

“How about you and Tommy, Ran? Are you guys…falling for each other?”

“Nah. We're friends for now, but I'm working hard so that can change in a couple of years—like when I'm nineteen and he's twenty-three.”

“I need to get to know him better then. He seems nice, but if he might be my future cousin-in-law…”

“Oh, you'll love him. He's got heaps of the three
F
s—he's so much fun to be with, he's got a strong faith and loves to go to church, and he's totally connected to his mom, grandparents, and cousins. We're a match made in heaven, Sparrow.”

“Speaking of matchmaking, did you ever find out how it went with Tara and JB's kids?”

“No, but I'm
so
curious to see if she's still interested after meeting them.”

As if on cue, a loud, demanding knock sounded at the door.
RAP! RAP! RAP!
“Some things never change,” Sameera muttered, opening the door for her mother's right-hand woman.

Tara strode in as dynamically as ever, but Sameera thought she glimpsed something new in her face.

“I just wanted to tell you girls that Miranda's film might be featured on a major network soon,” Tara said.

“Oh my gosh!” Miranda said. “I can't believe it!”

“It's an amazing PR tool,” Tara added.

“You should probably start charging money for it, Ran. Pay per view or something,” Sameera said.

“No way,” said Miranda quickly. “These films are my thanks to you and your parents for having me here. I'm so glad to be helping in any way.”

“Okay, then. I'll be heading home now,” Tara said.

Sameera grinned and looked at her watch. “Already? It's only six o'clock.”

That now-familiar pink flush came into Tara's cheeks. “I've got a date, girls,” she said.

“With JB?”

“And the twins.” She smiled at the expressions on the cousins' faces. “Oh, his kids are adorable. I love the way JB handles them—he's the world's best dad, that's for sure. He puts
their
needs first, which is how it should be.”

“Sounds a lot different than Marcus Wilder,” said Sameera, referring to Tara's old marketing geek boyfriend—the type who'd always put himself first.

“You can say that again. JB has all three of the treasures I'm looking for—he's strong, smart, and…” She stopped short, as though she'd already said too much, and Sameera noticed that her cheeks were fiery red now.

“Did you know that you and JB picked the exact same things?” she asked.

“I'm not surprised. ‘If three nonnegotiables match, consider the other person a keeper.'” It was a quote from Sparrowblog, and after delivering it, Tara smiled again at the girls and left.