Never Gather Rosebuds After Dark
By: The Writer
Rating: PG
Category: J/D
"Romeo, Romeo, why for art thou cursed?"
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I walked up to the Italian restaurant feeling pretty good. I was wearing the same light blue dress-shirt I had on earlier, minus the tie. I surveyed the place. There were large glass windows in the front with the name painted on them: R, O, M, A, R, I, O
Wait a minute! I thought it was Romeo's!
I reread the windows… Darn it! Don't tell me this was a very blunt sign that my inner-Romeo has never and will never be there! No! No! No!
I tried to shake the bad feeling off. I sighed and opened the front door. A small bell rang and a waiter appeared before me. "I have a reservation for Lyman."
The man smiled a toothy grin and spoke with an Italian accent, "Lieman, eh? You shoulda work at the White House with a name like that!" He punched me in the arm. "Get it? Lieman, lie man?"
With much effort I mustered a smile. "Yeah. I get it. Actually, I do work at the White House. My name is Joshua Lyman; I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
The man leaned forward and looked very closely at my face. "You were shot, no?"
And people wonder why I don't eat out more often… I took a deep breath and ran my fingers through my hair. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."
Please don't ask me what it felt like…please don't ask me what it felt like… "Can you tell me, what did it feel like?"
Patients dwindling… It felt great! Wonderful! I'd recommend it to anyone! Jeez. What do people expect me to say? "Can I see the table?"
The man suddenly remembered he was paid to do more than harass customers. He grabbed menus and led me to a booth. "Here you are, sir."
"Thanks." I slid into a seat and reached for a menu.
The man handed a menu to me and held the other in his hand. "Your reservation said there are two in your party. Did your girlfriend cancel?"
I am not going to kill him…I am not going to kill him… "No, I don't think so."
The man was intrigued. "What do you mean, you don't think so?"
I rubbed my temples and snatched the menu from his hands. Through gritted teeth I mustered my Lyman-poise (one of my many Lyman-traits); "Thanks. You've been a great help. If a young woman comes in looking for me, please direct her to this table."
The man nodded his head to me. "Certainly, sir."
I smiled as I watched the man return to his post near the front door, behind a small podium. Looking down at the menu, I flicked through the pages, searching for the wine list. Appetizers… Pastas… Salads… Soups… Desserts… Ah ha! Drinks! 7up… Coke… Pepsi… water… lemonade… Mountain Dew…
This isn't a kiddie party! Where the hell are the alcoholic drinks? The fine wines? The Zinfandel? Beer! Whiskey! Something! Come on…work with me people!
I flagged down a waitress that was walking by. I was going to be polite and keep using my Lyman-poise; "Why the heck aren't there any real drinks on this menu?" Oops. Well, at least I didn't swear at her.
The girl looked at me with this wide-eyed deer-in-headlights look. She was probably no older than 16 and I just scared the crap out of her. Darn! She looked about ready to run, crying to her boss. The last thing I needed was to be kicked out of this restaurant before Donna even got here!
She took a deep breath and mustered all the control she had. She probably learned how to handle guys like me at Waitressing School on How to Calm an Angry Customer Day. "Well, actually, sir, my boss, Romario, doesn't believe in alcoholic beverages. He says they are abused and in-turn destroy very valuable brain cells. He also says such drinks are an overrated way for men to woo women."
I need woo-power, darn it! The girl was so quiet and polite about it; all I could do was rub my temples and mutter, "Thank you."
I slammed my menu down on the table. Without wine, all I was going to have waiting for Donna was me! Well, that's not such a bad thing…but you know what I mean.
Oh, wait! The violin music! I can have a violinist waiting here for Donna!
I flagged down the next waitress that walked by. She looked a good ten years older than the last one. She folded her arms and glared at me, clearly ready to berate me on the rudeness I showed her younger co-worker. She demanded, "What?"
"Do you have any violin players here?"
"No, sir, we ain't got no violinists." She chewed her gum loudly.
No violin music either! Ugh! "Can you bring some garlic bread?"
"Yeah." She flicked her hair and walked away.
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the booth. I was picturing a perfect date, complete with a violinist and Donna in a velvet dress, when her voice broke through my thoughts; "Josh?"
My eyes snapped open and I smiled. "Hi, Donna, welcome." I gestured towards the other side of the booth. "Sit down."
Donna sat down across from me. She was wearing the same clothes she had on earlier. Evidently she had come here straight from the White House. But something was different…
There, tucked behind her ear, was one of the brown rosebuds! Will wonders never cease? I can't believe this woman! Is she trying to drive me over the edge or something? So I know the dead flowers were a mistake, already! She doesn't have to keep rubbing it in!
"You look nice."
Donna raised an eyebrow and touched the dead flower. "Josh, this is the same thing I had on earlier."
Why can't women just except a compliment? "Yeah…well…it still looks nice."
She laughed. "I've probably worn this shirt a hundred times…"
I sighed and rubbed my temples. "Donna…"
"Yes, Josh?" Donna leaned forward, her 'lets be professional' face on.
I started, "About last Friday—
I stopped when I heard a vaguely familiar voice speak my name, "Josh?"
I looked up to see a young woman's face. My startled brain told me belonged to an intern named Trisha. I glanced over at my assistant. Donna's mouth hung slightly agape as she surveyed the other woman in the velvet dress. She then gave me a quizzical look.
I. Can't. Breath. This can't really be happening. What is happening? What should I say? "Trisha?"
Donna glared at me. "You know her?"
Caught. Oh. No. Wait. What is this? "I…I… She's just an intern."
Trisha flicked her blonde hair. "Just an intern, huh? That's not what you seemed to think when you were staring at my legs."
Well, I would not call it staring! I merely viewed them for a moment before I realized what I was doing!
Donna looked outraged. "Joshua! I can't believe…after all we've gone through you'd just… And invite us both here? What were you going to do, Josh, make her your new assistant?"
I think I missed something. Now, all of a sudden, I'm this evil mastermind who planned to invite out two women who work for him so he could…? I am so cursed! I think it might be because I violated my own rule by trying to gather my rosebuds after dark.
Donna jumped up, her eyes wet and flashing at the same time, and ran out of the restaurant. I was left yelling, "But… No! Wait! I can explain! It's not like that at all!" I reeled on Trisha; "What are you doing here?"
She calmly sat in Donna's seat, batted her eyelashes, and smiled. "Taking you up on your invitation, of course."
My…what? "My…what?"
Trisha nibbled on the sticks a waitress had just placed on the table and made a face. "Ugh! Who knew Italians would serve breadsticks without garlic on them?" She licked her cherry-red lips. "I found the note you left me on the fax machine."
That's what I get for leaving a note out in the open and not addressing it to Donna. "Actually, it was meant for my assistant."
"Oh."
I stood up. "Listen…I'm going to go try to catch her."
Trisha rolled her eyes, not pleased at being ditched. "How very Romeo-ish of you."
Romeo-ish? Moi? I strode gallantly towards the door.
"Do I still get a free dinner?" she called after me.
Outside the rain was pouring down. I hypothesized that a dark cloud was just following me around, but the street also seems to be wet, so I guess that's not it. I saw Donna. She hadn't yet gotten in her car and driven off, but she wasn't walking slowly, either. "Donna!"
She continued walking away from me. Her voice quivered slightly, "I can't talk right now, Joshua."
"Donna, just wait a minute!" I reached out and grabbed her shoulder. Her body stiffened. I was glad she stopped, but I knew I'd be stuck conversing with her back. "Donna, last Friday you showed up in my office, drunk, and we kinda talked about Golden Birthdays—
"You said it yourself, Josh, I was drunk. Don't hold me responsible for whatever I said," her back told me. She, again, began walking away.
"Donna, wait! Donna! Will you just look at me?" I stopped, rain pouring down on me, and pleaded with my voice.
Donna stopped and faced me. Problem 1) She wouldn't meet my gaze. Problem 2) She had her arms crossed defensively. "Will you just tell me what I said, Josh?"
I ran my fingers through my wet hair. "You said you hoped, by now, that you would have met the man you're going to marry."
This time Donna met my eyes, but her look almost killed me. "Josh—
One last chance to be Romeo… "I've been thinking, Donna, and I want to be that man."
Donna had run forward and wrapped her arms around me before I had time to blink. I hugged her back. She told my soaked shirt, "I didn't think you knew."
Me? Josh Lyman? Not know? Why does everyone seem to think this?
I leaned down and kissed her…on the lips. And let me just tell you, it was the sweetest thing I've ever tasted. I then slipped my arm around her waist and we walked back towards Romario's. She glanced up at me; "Josh…what is the story with the intern?"
Choke. Should've known that was coming… "She was a little confused. She found the note I left you and thought it was for her."
"And her legs…?"
Flattery does wonders. "I was comparing them to yours and your legs won."
Donna blushed. "Oh."
As we walked up to the glass windows I saw Trisha surrounded by several Italian men. She smiled at them. One man was playing the violin.
I pulled the door open for Donna and the little bell rang. She commented, "I'm in the mood for garlic sticks."
"I heard here they're served without the garlic."
"Josh, what did you do to piss of the cook?"
How does she know these things? I think she's in cahoots (yes, 'cahoots' is a word) with C.J. "Actually, it was a waitress—
Donna waved a hand. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
That was a good night. I would recommend Romario's, they have killer pasta. Remind me to thank Sam.
Oh yeah, what about my inner-Romeo? We've recently connected and now speak on a regular basis. He has advised me, if I ever again plan to use roses (or rosebuds), I should have the de-thorned kind delivered fresh from a florist. I plan to use that advice for Donna's belated birthday present.
Also, I now have a new theory on gathering rosebuds: It doesn't really matter if you gather them in the morning or at night…as long as you do it right. Now, I wouldn't necessarily recommend dead flowers or notes taped to fax machines…but whatever works, right?
The End!
(I'm sure this time!)
I hoped you liked it! If you have chance, please tell me what you think!