Helen, Miranda and I are enjoying some quality girl-time while getting ready for the Balls. Miranda and Peter get to attend the first ball before coming home. She is chattering excitedly. Her excitement reminds me a little bit about how I felt getting ready for my first Inaugural Ball.
The whole day had been amazing. I was so proud standing there watching the President get sworn-in, and then we were rushed back to the West Wing so we could start moving our bosses into their offices. There wasn't much actual work for us to do that day, mostly just try to get the "lay of the land." I had fussed over Josh's office quite a bit, trying to add some personal touches along with making it as practical and functional as possible. Tickets to the balls were a hot commodity and none of the assistants had them. But Mrs. Landingham, Margaret and I got to ride with the motorcade. I knew that if I missed the motorcade I would be out of luck, so I got ready in a West Wing bathroom and then sat in Josh's office until he came in and asked me to tie his tie.
The Cosmetology Room sure is a far cry from a West Wing Bathroom! My nails are almost dry when Miranda skips over to show me hers.
"Now I have sparkly nails to match my sparkly dress!" I pull my hands out from under the dryer so she can put her's in.
"They're very pretty." I tell her.
"I like your's too, Tia Donna." I usually just get a basic nude manicure. But today I'm sporting silver sparkle. I'm not really sure I like it, but Helen and Miranda can be very insistent. Apparently, in Texas, it's all about the bling. Helen was surprised at the dress I chose. I had to remind her that I'm not trying to be the center of attention. She can wear all the bling she wants. I'll be happy not to stand out.
While Miranda was getting her nails done, the hair stylist had been pulling large rollers out of Helen's hair.
"How are you wearing it?" I ask. On the campaign trail, Mrs. Santos usually had her hair in a bun or French twist. At home, Helen usually keeps it pretty simple, straight or a pony-tail.
"We're going full glam tonight. Long and loose, lots of volume. Matt is going to be very happy." She says with a wink. She's right. Guys do have a thing about long blonde hair. For the longest time, I thought Josh preferred brunettes. He's completely set me straight about that. He has a really hard time keeping his hands off my hair. When we are relaxing at home, his hand is almost always smoothing my hair from the top of my head down my shoulders. I've almost given up on ponytails, because he just ends up tugging them out. When we kiss, he usually has at least one hand tangled in my hair cupping the back of my head. And when we make love . . . well, now's not the time to be thinking of that.
"Having ever present shadows might be a bit disconcerting but having your own beauty salon kind of makes up for it!" Helen's comment snaps me back to reality.
"What does this do to the populist message, though?" I ask, finding myself slipping back into political operative mode.
"You know what? Right now, I don't really care!" Helen replies. But I'm still in work mode for another minute.
"Actually, having this room and the stylists come to you, is probably cheaper than the cost of Secret Service and a motorcade to take you to a Salon. I don't think the American public as a whole decries every bit of protection and practicality."
Helen just raises an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, we'll go with that." Then we both burst into laughter.
Once Helen's hair is done, she moves over to the manicurist and Miranda sits down in front of the hair stylist. She starts out with ringlets, but quickly realizes that Miranda's straight silky hair isn't going to hold them very long. I can totally relate to that too. I tried the same look four years ago.
Getting ready for the Inaugural Balls the second time around was excruciating. Josh had called me several times during the day to see where I was. He was pissed about the quote but he told me to come to the Inauguration anyway. We'd deal with it later. But I didn't go. I didn't want to face anyone. I watched the ceremony on TV. After the ceremony, Josh called again. He said he missed me. He had wanted me by his side during the ceremony. I had earned my spot. One mistake didn't matter. He almost begged me to come to the Ball. I reminded him that I still didn't have a ticket and that I still couldn't get in without him.
Then I got dressed and did my hair. The whole time I was getting ready, my heart was hurting and my mind was racing. It was half self-flagellation; half hope that he'd come get me. The whole time I had been dating Jack I knew I didn't love him. But, I thought if Josh didn't love me, maybe I could learn to love Jack. Then Josh had made a comment about Jack wanting to be transferred. It hurt. And I was angry. Then Jack suggested I take the blame for the quote, and I was more hurt. Because once again, a man just wanted me for what I could do for him. Jack probably thinks I took the blame because I loved him, but that wasn't why. When he said "I could lose my career, but Josh would never fire you!" I decided to see if it was true. If Josh had fired me, at least I'd know for sure how he felt about me. But then he hadn't fired me and I'd spent 3 more years wondering how he really felt. At least my hair had looked good when he got there to pick me up.
The stylist changes tactics on Miranda and pulls her hair up into a high ponytail. She fixes the curls and sprays the life out of them. Then she looks at Helen, who nods in approval. She adds a couple sparkly barrettes and Miranda is finished. I take her place in the stylist's chair and she looks at my hair the same way she just studied Miranda's. "Up-do?" She asks. I nod and she starts working on a French twist.
"Can I go put my dress on now, Mommy?" Miranda asks.
Helen looks at her watch, it's just past 6. "No, go have something to eat in the kitchen. You can put your dress on at 7. And tell Peter it's time to eat too." Miranda is smiling as she skips out of the room. Helen looks at me.
"I asked the kitchen to send up some finger foods for us too. I wasn't sure if we'd be able to eat at any point tonight?"
"Good idea. All the balls will have appetizers. But I never saw President or Mrs. Bartlet eat. There are just too many people to greet and thank. But if you get a chance to sneak a piece of coconut shrimp, do it. It's really good."
Helen is sitting with her hands under the dryer and the stylist has just finished my hair, when we hear Matt bellow "Honey, I'm Home" from the hallway. Helen immediately grins. I love their playful banter.
The Bartlets had bantered with each other too, but it had a different tone to it. It bordered on adversarial most of the time. During the first campaign, it scared me. They can both be very intimidating. But now that I know them better, there is no doubt of their love for each other.
Matt and Helen don't really intimidate me. I have deep respect and an appropriate amount of deference to the President and First Lady, but Matt and Helen actually remind me of Josh and me. They truly enjoy each other's company. They flirt like crazy. And they bring the banter!
As the guys poke their heads into the room, Matt says "You've got your own beauty salon! Man, this is a good gig." He walks over to Helen and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Are they going to make you look presentable?" She kicks him in the shin but her eyes are sparkling. "You know, I bet I could get Don Vogel to take me tonight." She tells him. She can tell by the way he's looking at her that he likes what he sees.
"Not worried. I've got agents to take him out." He leans down and whispers something in her ear and she immediately blushes.
"We're going to get ready now." She says as they rush out of the room. "See you in an hour."
When I look back into the mirror, I see Josh behind me, leaning against the doorway, looking at me with undisguised lust. I wasn't sure if he was going to like the up-do, but I guess I have my answer. He saunters over and starts planting tiny sweet kisses on my neck. When I start to pant, he stops and spins the chair around.
"Why did you stop?" I whine.
"First of all," he smirks "this might not be the most appropriate place to make-out. Second, I really want to do more than those little tiny kisses, God, I want to leave a mark on your neck!" He groans the last part. The way he's looking at me, I almost want to let him. Instead I take a deep breath.
"No, it would be a really bad idea to leave a mark," I get up and push past him, making sure that my body brushes up against his. As I walk out of the room, I call back over my shoulder "where anyone can see it." I walk slowly toward the Lincoln Bedroom, counting in my head as I go, I'm not even to three when he catches up to me and grabs my hand and pulls me along. He's walking much faster than I was. As he opens the door to the bedroom, I barely notice the extra agents standing there.