Most of the black t-shirts had a big “USSS” logo. Mark couldn’t find one with no logo.
Agent Adams merely grunted when Mark pulled it on inside out so that the logo didn’t show as more than a light puckering in the fabric. He’d been trying to figure out how to play this for the whole walk over while Beale made nice-nice with Adams. Clearly a grudge match was going on here and his role was to be invisible. He was surprised they’d let him in the building at all, even if only to the gym. It said how highly Adams thought of Beale. Mark could keep playing the jet-setting playboy-wimp, but the Secret Service had surely drilled past that facade by now. Which meant that now he could be Mr. Paramilitary-cocky-as-can-be stud. He could get into that role.
He scared up shorts and figured his sneaker
