American Carnage by Tim Alberta

Author:Tim Alberta
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-07-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

October 2016

“Mother is not going to like this.”

O NE BY ONE, THEY HAD TRICKLED OUT OF THE CONFERENCE ROOM ON the twenty-fifth floor of Trump Tower. It was Friday, October 7, two days before the second presidential debate, and the Republican nominee’s brain trust had spent the morning running a carefully simulated rehearsal session. Chris Christie, playing the role of Hillary Clinton, was seated adjacent to his opponent at a conference table; Reince Priebus, acting as the moderator, was positioned directly across from Trump. The rest of the observers—Hope Hicks, Steve Bannon, Kellyanne Conway, David Bossie, Jared Kushner, and the nominee’s children, among a few others—listened critically, offering occasional feedback.

Hicks had left the room first. The others, more glued to their smartphones than usual, began taking turns excusing themselves. Priebus, Christie, and Trump pushed onward with the debate prep. Finally, looking up and realizing that it was only the three of them remaining, Priebus paused the proceedings. “Okay,” he told Trump. “When the entire staff leaves the room, something’s up.”

Trump hadn’t noticed, either. Now he glanced from side to side. To his right, through the glass-plated doors, he could see the members of his team huddled outside the conference room, arguing in hushed tones. “Yeah,” Trump said, breaking from his practiced debate cadence and barking toward the glass. “What the hell’s going on out there?”

A few agonizing moments passed before the door opened. In walked Hicks, carrying a stapled packet of papers. She handed them silently to Trump. A former Ralph Lauren model known for her sharp looks and confident mien, Hicks was now ashen-faced. Trump eyed the top sheet and began reading. “Uh huh,” he said, flipping to the next page. “Mmm hmmm.”

Priebus was growing impatient—and fearful. “What is it?” he said. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Trump ignored him. Turning to a new page, he scanned the print and then stopped suddenly, his expression and tone shifting at once. He looked up at Hicks. “This doesn’t sound like me.”

Priebus raised his voice in uncharacteristic fashion. “Someone tell me something, please!”

Trump looked at him, put the packet on the table, and slid it across. The party chairman began to read, the room now filling around him with the rest of the team. They had all seen it: an email exchange with Washington Post reporter David Farenthold, who claimed to have an old audio recording of Trump making exceedingly lewd remarks about women and boasting of his ability to get away with sexual assault. Farenthold had sent over the alleged quotes and was requesting comment from the campaign for a story that would run later that day.

“Wow, this isn’t good,” Priebus said, his eyes fixed on a single line. “This is really, really bad.”

The group was paralyzed with silence. Finally, Kushner piped up. “You know, I don’t think it’s all that bad.”

“Jared, what are you talking about?” Priebus said, burying his head in his hands. “This is as bad as it gets.”

Trump, talking to no one in particular, repeated himself. “This doesn’t sound like me.

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