Author's Note: Suzanne begins to worry about her sudden increase in popularity and wonders how to embrace such attention. She worries about whether or not it is an asset or liability with her position. She returns to Washington and speaks candidly with the President if she can remain grounded about her position.
"I can't sleep."
Suzanne grumbled as she reclined the seat and attempted to nap during the flight.
The team returned from Europe Friday evening. Suzanne Gibbs wanted normalcy, thought it would return once she left Europe and stayed away from cameras. Everything she did—from wearing a hooded sweatshirt to deliberately cover her face to sunglasses to hide her eyes—indicated retreat, to leave her alone. Her body language-arms folded across her chest, head hanged low, was in reaction to the European trip. Her mind raced, replayed the attention once she slipped on the dress. The flash flickered at each movement. Cameras focused on her and not the Boss, the Commander-in-Chief. Suzanne was talked out, meaning she craved silence.
"It helps to talk." The President was sitting next to her, reading a book.
"I'm a liability, Mr. President." She whispered low, focused on the skies.
"Wrong. You're an asset." He responded. "Coach Wooden said that talent is God-given; be grateful."
"He also said fame is man-given and conceit is self-given; be careful." She chuckled. Suzanne looked directly at the President.
"I didn't set out to get famous, or notoriety…any of that stuff."
"I know that." He said. "Anyone who knows you will see you're humble...maybe too humble." The President flashed the reassuring smile. "Think about the difference you've made to a new generation of young women."
"Hell, I didn't even watch it!" Suzanne laughed. "I was updating the social media accounts!"
"See there? No conceit whatsoever!" The President laughed.
Suzanne was thankful entourages of reporters were not around once she made it home. It helped to have a Federal Agent and Marine for a husband. She shared with Special Agent Jethro Gibbs the wants for normalcy—missing him and the sudden interest in her.
"It'll fade away like pet rocks." Jethro assured his wife of four months. Over the phone, throughout the weekend together, it was normal. She was unrecognizable, even ignored during several trips. The weekend clothing was jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers. The hair was on her shoulders, pulled slightly by a wide headband. The Gibbs' even stepped out for the evening at their neighborhood Chinese restaurant undetected.
It was business as usual on the West Wing Monday morning, 8:30 AM. She arrived to work in usual dress—freshly pressed chino pants, buttoned long-sleeved shirt and matching scarf.
"A fashion icon, Ladies and Gentlemen…" Claudia muttered as Suzanne walked to her desk. The others roared with laughter when the aide twirled around, exaggerated model walk.
"Care to acknowledge the adoring public with the Executive Office of the President?"
"But I can't help that the press noticed my outfit, Claudie…" She sat down, batting her eyelashes and continuing with the silliness.
"It's called being inconspicuous, 'Hyphen…'"
The two shared humorous banter, much to Suzanne's price. The veteran derived other nicknames—"Alphabet," "Scrabble," and Claudia's favorite term of endearment for Suzanne, "newlywed." The latest one was due to her new desk identifier—McNamara-Gibbs.
"But then again…when you're built like a brick house…" Claudia mumbled, nudging her in jest, smiling to alert the comments were in fun.
"The knockers didn't get me the job…" Suzanne smiled, opened the postal mail, scanning, choosing not to comment and continued her filing duties. The attention was flattering.
"You know, you shouldn't mess with Suzanne like that." Linda typed away, chuckled.
"Washington Evening…wants to do an article. They called to schedule an interview." Claudia announced.
"For the President?" Suzanne assumed. "Obviously, they called for the Boss." She slipped on her headphones, began typing on the desktop computer. "I'll arrange a time this afternoon."
A sample cover and article were tossed on her desk.
"We know who she's been doing…" In capital New Times Roman font, the title was titillating, yet honest: Suzanne does Europe: The Owens Administration in Europe.
"Oh, hell no!" Suzanne was visibly disturbed. "My mama, my brothers, not to mention my husband, will think I'm sort of strillet!"
Suzanne studied the photo array—some from publicity shots from her short tenure at the White House. It varied—exercise regimens, working quietly at her desk, and one contentedly listening to the President. The cover was an 8x11 full-bodied photo from London. She removed the headphones, slipped her glasses to cover her face. Generally, she wore her bifocals at the tip of her nose. Suzanne shook her head in disbelief, groaned.
"Where did they get the photos?"
"I gave them the go on the article, Suzanne." Claudia admitted. "Your coming out was London, when you had on the dress."
"You can thank Jane for that…"
"It blew up in her face, thank God. You're making EOP sexy to the American people…"Claudia continued.
"Trust me-there is nothing sexy about my job..." Suzanne chuckled. "Try running or playing 3 on 3 with the President and Secret Service sometime…"
"For once…" Linda glanced at Claudia. "She has a valid point."
Linda leaned on the edge of Suzanne's desk and continued.
"Suzanne, you can be good-looking and still be taken seriously. Think about the impact you have on today's young women…"
"I know I'm going to regret this interview…" Suzanne muttered.
"That magical moment when Diana Prince removes her glasses, twirls around and a bounce of energy transforms her…" Linda rubbed her back for encouragement. "The world sees…Wonder Woman!"
The three chuckled.
"I'll do it if the Evening editor will interview all of us—the Big Three."
"I'll call Peter to share the news." Claudia walked back to her desk.
"And I'll finish up the itinerary for Latin America." Suzanne glanced at the cover once again, rolled her eyes in disgust. "After I get some coffee…"
"I can't believe that crap…" Suzanne mumbled as she walked to the brewer. "I have a world to schedule around the President!"