The following is a dramatic reenactment based on actual events.
Jamie Dimon could not believe it. He stared silently at the television screen in shock, his strong, flawless jawline clenched tightly, as he watched the parade of guests alight from their vehicles and make their way to the second state dinner at the White House. Representing Wall Street, he noted, were Morgan Stanley’s new CEO James Gorman, Ken Chenault of American Express, Robert Wolf of UBS. Geithner, who technically doesn’t represent Wall Street, but details. Bank of America’s Brian Moynihan, of course. And that was it. Because Jamie hadn’t been invited.
It was an outrage. He had just been over to the House a couple of weeks ago for a Business Council meeting. Afterward, Obama had shook his hand and made eye contact. “I’ll see you soon,” he said. Jamie assumed he meant at the state dinner. But then no invitation arrived in the mail. He’d called Valerie Jarrett. “I’ll look into it,” she told him. But he never heard back from her. Clearly, the president hadn’t wanted him there. But why? It’s not like people didn’t know they had a special relationship. That cat came out of the bag long ago. So what was he afraid of? That Dimon would embarrass him by drinking too much and being too jubilant about the defeat of the financial-regulation bill? To be fair, Carlos Santana cava did have a mysteriously strong effect on him. Still. It was not like the Obama he knew, the man who took Team of Rivals so seriously that he asked two of his campaign rivals to join the administration, to want to only surround himself with sycophants and big-time donors. Clearly, the man had changed. On the television, Eva Longoria Parker stepped out of a limousine. Jamie punched his pillow. This was just mean. Obama knew he loved Desperate Housewives.