Taste (Take It Off #9)(39)
Author: Cambria Hebert

She was admitted entrance.

Before the door latched, her muffled sobs broke through the hushed conversation that filled the room.

It was done.

22

It was announced the president would not be coming back to the dinner. He had fallen ill and was resting in his private quarters. His personal doctor was on his way.

Of course, it was implied that this not become common knowledge as the president just needed to rest and would be back to normal very soon.

The dinner continued. No one seemed overly concerned.

I went back to the kitchen because lurking behind doors looked suspicious.

My chest felt tight as I worked, covering what was left of the granita with plastic wrap. It was hard to not know what was going on. Where was Spencer? Was he okay? Were they able to get the president out of the White House undetected?

It made me realize that I knew very little about this plan. So many details likely went into this, details I wasn’t privy to. It was Spencer’s way of protecting me, the Secret Service’s way of doing their jobs… but it still sucked.

When all the extra food was put away, I grabbed a rag and began cleaning some of the counters.

Marley, one of the kitchen staff, came rushing up to where I and a few other people were cleaning up. “Did you hear?” she asked, her face was pale and her eyes were wide.

We all paused and looked up. “Hear what?” I asked.

She sniffled. “It’s horrible news.”

“What is it?” someone beside me demanded.

The bottom fell out of my stomach. I knew.

“The president isn’t sick,” Marley said. “He’s dead.”

I knew it was coming.

It didn’t lessen the shock.

It didn’t dampen the reaction I had. The wet rag fell out of my hand and made a slapping sound on the tile floor.

“That’s not funny,” Mark, the man beside me, scolded Marley.

“It’s not a joke,” she said, her voice low and watery. “It’s all over. Everyone is talking about it.”

“But how?” I asked. “They just said he was ill.”

“They think it was something he ate.” She nodded as she whispered, her eyes wide.

“That’s ridiculous,” Mark said. “Everyone at the dinner ate the same thing. No one else died.” He paused. “Did they?”

“Not that I know of,” Marley said.

This was something I hadn’t prepared for. Something I never thought of. The speculation. The rumors. In any workplace, people loved a good drama. They loved whispering by the water cooler. Well, this was about the biggest, most shocking piece of gossip the White House would ever see.

Of course there would be theories.

But those theories could come back on me.

We’ll make sure you’re the one who goes down for plotting to kill the commander in chief. The threat from the night that seemed so long ago filled my mind, taunting me.

Were these assholes going to get their way?

In an attempt to free myself of this crime, did I accidentally implicate myself?

“Then it couldn’t have been the food,” Mark insisted.

“Maybe someone poisoned it.” Marley theorized.

I jerked like I’d been shocked. Both people looked at me. “That’s impossible,” I said, not even having to pretend to be horrified. “This place has a ton of security. We would know if someone on this staff wanted the president dead.”

God, that was such an epic lie.

“Well, what else could it be?” Marley asked.

“Are you sure he’s dead?” I asked.

Marley opened her mouth to respond, but the kitchen manager called for the attention of everyone in the room.

We all gathered around. It was evident by her tear-stained and pale face that she was going to tell us exactly what Marley already did.

“It is with great sorrow that I need to confirm the rumors already making their way through the White House. The president is dead.”

Murmuring went through the room. Grief settled over the space like a suffocating blanket.

I didn’t anticipate how horrible this part would be. How cruel this plan really was. These people, my co-workers, they all thought he was dead. They were grieving, mourning the loss of someone who wasn’t really gone.

I knew I hadn’t had a choice with this, but it still made me feel incredibly bad.

“The White House is issuing a gag order,” she said, and I stopped listening. I knew what she was going to say. Everyone was being told to not breathe a word of this until further notice.

And me…

Well, I was just trying not call attention to myself.

“A thorough investigation is being launched immediately. Every member of the staff will be interviewed. Cooperate. Tell them what you know. Every detail can make a difference,” she was saying.

When she was done talking, everyone went back to what they were doing. The atmosphere was subdued and heavy. I couldn’t help but think about Spencer. The muffled cries I heard from the First Lady earlier tonight echoed through my brain, rattling in every corner of my mind.

Did she know about this?

They couldn’t possibly allow her to think her husband had died.

Could they?

Some of the staff were called out to be interviewed. The kitchen was thoroughly cleaned. Some of the food from the dinner was taken away for testing.

My stomach roiled and threatened to empty itself on more than one occasion.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to put on a brave face. I could feel everything I was and let it show. Everyone just assumed it was grief.

It wasn’t grief.

It was guilt.

The hour drew late. Far later than I normally stayed. The staff began trickling out. Everyone’s eyes were bloodshot and tired.

I was sitting at the island, just staring at my fingers, when a hand fell on my shoulder. I spun around quickly, hoping to see Spencer’s face.

It wasn’t him.

The kitchen manager frowned down at me. “Elle?” she asked. “What are you still doing here?”

I wasn’t sure where else to go. I thought by now Spencer would have been around, but so far, he was nowhere to be seen.

“I was waiting to be interviewed.” I lied.

She sighed heavily. “Ah, I see. Well, thank you for waiting. They’re interviewing the wait staff now. It could take the rest of the night. Why don’t you go home, get some rest? They will interview you in the morning.”

“I can stay,” I said, knowing I probably shouldn’t leave.

“You look exhausted,” she said. “Go.”