38Felicia“I don’t like all these windows,” one of Dad’s Secret Service agents says.
His name is David Brown and he’s been with Dad for as long as I can remember. I used to think he looked like a superhero, tall and black-haired and muscular with an expression which never looked unsure. But looking at him now, after meeting Lance and Bear and seeing Mr. Black’s men, he looks inconsequential. He looks around the function room, long, wide windows set along the walls. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and politicians stand in small circles, waiters walking between them holding silver platters of champagne and nibbles. I notice several people looking at me, trying and failing to be discreet.
Dad speaks through his teeth. “You have the place secured, don’t you?” he snaps, a smile plastered on
