“Would you take a bullet for him?” Mark asked. My head snapped toward him in surprise, but his eyes were fixed on the stage. I tried to make a joke. It was the only thing I could think of on the spot. “Yeah, sure, but could it be to the leg?” He laughed. As the president began to wrap up, we walked toward the stage. “Would you?” I asked him. “I would do anything,” Mark answered, looking over his shoulder at me, “to get him reelected.”
