Authors:
Date: August 4, 2001
Webpage:
The first two weeks of December blew by as fast as the harsh, icy winter wind that whipped through the bare cherry trees. No one in the DC area had seen the sun during that time frame, and the gloomy skies made everyone feel crass and bitter; no where was this more evident than in the attitude of the senior staff.
Judge Rayburn was serving subpoenas with the precision of an expert marksman destroying his clay targets. Josh was served the night of the State Dinner; CJ's turn came immediately after Wednesday's two o'clock briefing. Leo and Toby got theirs at the same time as they left the Hill, and Sam received his document as he was picking up coffee from the shop around the corner from his apartment.
One by one the White House staffers were feeling the sting from Rayburn. Donna wondered when her turn would arrive. Her meeting with Babish went fine. He told her not to take any extreme measures. She would be served--it was a fact no one was going to argue. What Babish needed was time to figure out what they were going to ask her. She met with him on two more occasions and answered more questions than she ever dreamed. What surprised her most was what she wasn't asked about: the President's illness. She was asked that once by the White House Counsel and then the discussion turned to something she knew quite a lot more about: her boss. Josh never asked her how her discussions with Babish went--she had little doubt he was informed in some way.
He had grown more quiet and gloomy clouds seem to appear in his disposition. The holidays were given to spawning depression in many, Donna knew, but never Josh. But that didn't mean it could not happen. She was acutely aware that it was only a year earlier that she had gone to Leo to divulge her bone deep worries that something was desperately wrong with Josh. He had bounced back remarkably, she thought. That was until the previous May when everyone in the office was hit with the President's near-crippling news. Like the others, he was energized after the press conference when the President astounded everyone by announcing he would run again. There was even discussion that they would win again. But Babish's meetings brought everyone back to the ground. Since her final discussion with him--the longest and, Donna felt, the most intrusive into her private knowledge of Josh--her pace had quickened, and she was looking over her shoulder. She wasn't deviating from her daily routine, and she was following the instructions that Josh had given her to the letter. But there was a new and sickly feeling of worry in her stomach for the moment she would face the Inquisitors. They would do everything possible to drag down the President and hang his staff beside him
All this made for a tricky Christmas shopping season for Donna. Getting into the spirit was as difficult as finding the courage to venture out into the stores. She finally broke down and did the unthinkable: shopping on-line. It was so impersonal, and she felt ashamed for doing it--especially for her family's gifts. She made up for it, though, with detailed and personalized Christmas greetings in cards that were to accompany each gift she was to ship. And, with the extra time she had from not leaving home or the office, she found ample opportunity to do these masterful writings.
She even managed to get some of it done at work. She was working on the inscription to a book for her young nephew one lunch hour when Josh happened by with nothing to do.
"Dr. Seuss?" he remarked, picking up one of the set of books she was shipping home for the baby. "Broadening your intellectual horizons?"
"It's for Tad," she said.
"Blind date?"
"My nephew, actually," she said. "He's probably better company than most of the men I've dated recently."
"I see no reason to disagree with that," Josh said.
"The difference between most men and Tad is that he's entitled to be a baby because... well, he is one," she said with a knowing grin.
As she spoke, she shot an accusing look in Josh's directly. He either did not notice or refused to acknowledge the expression. He was looking at the book when Toby rounded the corner.
"I need a moment," the speech writer said and walked into Josh's office.
When Josh did not immediately follow him, Toby poked his head around the corner to see Josh sporting a curious expression as he stared into the open book.
"Is the Children's Book of the Month Club meeting over?" Toby asked.
"What?" Josh replied, looking at Toby as though it was the first time he realized someone else was there.
"I hate to break up whatever review you're giving Donna or vice versa," Toby continued. "Unfortunately, I have this little thing called Congress to deal with and thought you might like to help since it's allegedly both your job and your specialty."
"Yeah."
Josh placed the book back on Donna's desk; the odd expression fading from his face, but a shadow of it lingered in his eyes. Donna had seen that look before several times--each followed by some flash of intuitive (if at times questionable) thinking that was quintessential Josh Lyman. She was disappointed Toby had interrupted what would surely be one of their most lively discussions in months. However, she kept to her task as Josh walked into his office and closed the door.
*****************
Josh and Toby's discussion, like many they had held since December appeared, was loud and contentious and left both men with evil clouds looming over their heads. Donna was concerned about the abrupt silence that that emanated from the Deputy Chief of Staff's Office. She planned her own recon effort for the following day if something did not change.
Luckily, the following afternoon, she was making her way back to her desk from her weekly traipse through the press area when she heard a welcomed sound.
"DONNA!"
"Music to my ears," she grinned as she swung by her desk, grabbed a pen and pad and entered Josh's office.
"DONNA!" he yelled again.
"My you have such a sweet singing voice," she quipped as she sat down.
"What took you so long?" he asked. "Were you…?"
"No," Donna assured him. "I was doing my walk through and was on my way back when you bellowed."
"I don't bellow. I raised the inflection in my voice."
"What do you need?"
Josh dug through a pile of papers and pulled out a folder. "I've got an assignment for you."
"Only one?" Donna smirked.
"Yeah, but it'll keep you busy. You're scheduled to fly out on the 17th and return on the 21st."
"I'm flying somewhere?"
"Yeah."
"On the 17th… of this month?" she asked.
"That's what the plane ticket says," he replied.
"No."
"No?"
"No," she said firmly. "Josh, that's in two days! A year ago, I asked for the 17th off; you agreed. I have it written down--you even signed it! You cannot, you cannot back out now!"
"Not even if I tell you that the assignment's in Hawaii?" Josh offered.
"I can't believe you," Donna fumed, oblivious to his question. "I haven't had a day off in… I can't remember. I demand…"
"Here it comes."
"Hawaii?" Donna asked as Josh's comment finally sunk in. "Hawaii? Our fiftieth state? The island state?"
"Unless they suddenly changed Oklahoma's name, then yes," he smirked.
"We're going to Hawaii? Josh this is fabulous."
"We're not going," Josh clarified. "Just you. Hence the reason I've been saying you instead of us."
"You're not going?" Donna asked as a twinge of disappointment crept into her voice.
"No," Josh said. "Basically it's a low level DNC thing. I don't have time to be there; I also don't want to be there, but I need to be so, I'm sending you. You're going there to take notes for me."
"Okay, so I'm dreaming, but I still don't understand why you're not going."
"Have you been conscious for the last few weeks?" Josh asked sharply, then sighed and softened his tone. "Donna, Rayburn's got us scrambling like the rug rats that come here for the Easter Egg hunt. The Republicans want to hang the President in effigy and we need to..."
"I know," she said solemnly.
"Plus the process server will have a tougher time finding you," he added. "Bonus for us. Not real victory, but screw 'em. We'll take what we can get lately."
"Hey, I didn't think of that," she smiled. "Josh, sometimes you can be…"
"Donna," he moaned as he rubbed his eyes.
"Okay, just for that tone in your voice I'm not bringing you back a souvenir," she teased. "You're on my bad list now."
"My heart's breaking," he smirked. "All I want are those notes. And no chicken scratch. Even more serious people are going to be reading this, so take a laptop with you."
"For the last time, my penmanship is distinctive," Donna rose from the chair. "But even with your negative aura, you're still so sweet."
"Out."
The rest of the week sped by and Donna was feeling half-nervous/half-excited to be going. This was an honest to God assignment; an assignment that a senior staff member would normally go on. Donna jokingly referred to herself as 'Deputy Deputy Chief of Staff,' but she never thought that she would pull such an assignment. The Kick-Off Celebration was one thing, but this? Never in her wildest dreams had she thought of representing Josh at anything. Granted, he had told her to not speak to anyone about anything regarding him, his position, his thoughts, his job, etc. Still, she knew he trusted her; he had also just shown her how much he believed in her.
*****************
The White House was dark and quiet as Donna traveled the halls on her way to Josh's office. The first waves of people were entering the building. Donna wanted to say her good-bye to Josh before her 6:45 am flight out of Dulles took off. She tried calling him at his apartment and after getting his machine surmised that she would find him where she left him the night before: at his desk.
Donna quietly stepped into his office to see his head lying on his blotter. He was fast asleep.
"Josh."
No movement came from the desk.
"Joshua," Donna said a little louder.
Still, nothing.
Donna walked over to the phone and punched in a series of numbers, then hung up. Seconds later, the sharp trill of Josh's pager sounded.
Josh's head immediately shot up… and into the lamp on his desk as the chirping device tumbled from his grasp.
"Ow!"
"Oh, good, you're up," Donna said casually.
"You're fired."
"And that's a fine way to tell your assistant to have a safe flight," she said.
"That's today?" he asked, not sure if the pounding headache he felt was the remnant from the beers he had with Sam last night or from the lamp.
"Yes," she nodded. "It's on your schedule. Bonnie will be covering for me while I'm away. Don't have a panic attack; I cleared it with Toby two days ago. I had to do some smooth talking, but I just told him that it was either take one of his assistants or deal with Cranky Josh."
"I am never cranky," he defended.
"Whatever," she sighed. "I just wanted to say a quick good-bye before I left."
"Oh, okay," he said.
"Josh?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks again for letting me go on this assignment. I really appreciate it."
"Uh, you're welcome," Josh said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Do you need a ride to the airport?"
"No, I've got my car," she said as she checked her watch. "I've gotta head out."
"Call me when you land."
"I will," she smiled. "I've left copies of your schedule taped to your computer, your door and my computer. Plus Bonnie said she'll look out...."
"I can handle it," he insisted.
"Right," Donna agreed. "Don't forget the thing with Leo the day after tomorrow. They moved the time to 6 a.m."
"I'm only half as incompetent as you make it seem," he reminded her then groped around his desk.
"You knocked on the floor on the other side," Donna said airily as she breezed out of the office.
Josh shook his head as a smirk curled the corners of his mouth as watched her retreat before he got down on the floor to find his pager.
*********************
"I thinks it's past time we got serious about
this thing," Toby said, rubbing his brow.
The meeting was stretching into its first
hour with the sun bleeding into the room as morning slowly arrived.
Leo, ever tireless, was looking weary after playing more of a referee role
than that of team captain. Toby was finding it hard to keep his tone
and volume civil. It wasn't easy, he felt. The stress of the
task ahead was weighty enough without adding the irreverence of Heckle
and Jeckle sitting across the table from him. Sam's occasional offerings
of less than productive assessments of the situation, and Josh's constant
sighing and eye rolling left the lead speech writer's nerves threadbare.
"Nobody here is playing around," Leo reminded him then quickly silenced the peanut gallery. "Don't say it, Josh."
Josh shrugged. He wasn't comfortable with the reliance and deference Leo was showing Toby in these strategy sessions. It's not that he didn't think Toby was capable. He just didn't think Toby was more capable than he was.
"It's time to take a swing," Toby said.
"We already did," Josh pointed out. "We broke the story. Now, I say we leave it."
"Funny, no one asked what you would say," Toby seethed. "I'm not going to sit back and let these people continue to paint us as conspirators. We need to put distance between us and this thing."
"How is that not a conspiratorial stance?" Josh asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Call it what you want, Toby, but I think Josh is right," Sam said. "Obfuscate, distance, spin, whatever. Look, we can't duck and hide, and we can't run away from this. That would look cowardly. The polls show that yes, a considerable portion of the public is a bit..."
"Pissed?" Josh offered.
"I was going to say displeased," Sam continued, "that this was not disclosed previously. However, the fact that we brought it out, and we weren't under any immanent threat to do did us some good. We aren't seeing the benefits now...."
"Really," Leo added flatly.
"But we will," Sam said enthusiastically. "We just can't run from this. It's our thing."
"It's his thing," Josh sighed and lowered his head. As the silence filled the room, he raised his eyes to see three stern faces. He sat back in his chair and stared back.
"It's his thing," Josh said. "We have to deal with it."
"Do we need to talk?" Leo asked harshly.
Josh said nothing. Toby took that moment to get back to his point.
"We know what works," Toby said diplomatically, looking at Leo rather than either deputy. "I've laid out two scenarios--both of which I'm certain you will agree are feasible. We need to pick one and stick to it. Now..."
"We can't fight this," Josh said heatedly. "Toby, it's in our face, and we don't have the space to steady ourselves to swing back. Not yet."
"Didn't I just hear one of you two brain trusts just say..."
"Toby," Leo growled.
"Just say," Toby continued, "that duck and cover wouldn't work?"
"That's right," Josh agreed. "It won't. That's not what we need to do."
"You want a full frontal assault?" Leo asked incredulously.
"No," Josh said simply.
"What else is there?" Sam asked, his interest piqued and ideas churning in his head in a way they hadn't since the previous May when Leo and the President dropped a bomb in his lap one evening.
"I guess it's the Theodore Gisel theory of political science," Josh shrugged as the words tumbled out of his mouth. He had been turning the idea over and over again in his head since the day he watched Donna wrap her nephew's gifts.
"Say again?" Leo asked.
"Marvin K. Mooney will you please go now?" Sam ventured, a sly smile appearing on his face.
"There it is," Josh nodded.
"No," Toby said instantly and jumped to his feet.
"I don't get it," Leo said dropping back into his chair. "Hell, I don't think I want to."
"It's a Dr. Seuss story about Marvin K. Mooney," Sam began to explain. "See, everyone wants him to leave but..."
"Sam, I could kill you right now for pleasure," Toby
cut him off fuming as he began to pace the room. "Leo, this is not
the time to try some hopelessly simple, certainly untested and frankly
too contrived plot hatched by Josh while bickering with his assistant over
children's literature!"
"As far as this issue is concerned, I think it's
the only thing we can do right now," Josh insisted. "I'm not saying
do this forever. I agree we need a plan. They're going to expect
us to swing. They're ready for us to swing. Let's take them
out of their stance. This is our change up pitch, Toby. Let's
make this thing, as far as we're concerned up front, a non-issue.
It's history now. Let it be. We don't pick it up and do anything
with it until they do."
"They're doing it now," Leo pointed out.
"No, they're not," Josh said. "They've been countering us. Let it shift to them. Leo, listen to me. The scenarios are this. One, they blister us; we can take that because we've anticipated that so we've got the counter measures. Two, they come at us subtly to undermine us; we can bat that back just as subtly and this turns into a protracted political tennis match--the odds are with us that we'll win that one because we'll have weathered the storm. Three, they wait for our next pro-active move. So I gotta ask, what if we do nothing?"
The quiet filled the room again. It was different than the silence of a moment earlier. This one was introspective. Leo turned the idea over in his head while Toby shook any further consideration of it from his. Sam nodded then spoke.
"It might buy us some time," Sam said. "Maybe only a day or two, but by then something else is bound to grab the headlines. Once a thing gets knocked below the fold once, it takes something big to punch it back up. There's nothing bigger to this is there? Is there?"
"No," Leo said firmly then said it again because he needed to. "There's not."
He looked into their faces only the most minuscule shade of doubt was evident. However, that there was any at all was a sign Leo did not like, but he had lived with it for the previous seven months.
"The public is not going to forget this thing is here just because Peter Jennings doesn't lead with it or it isn't the first thing Bill O'Reilly shrieks about on a Wednesday evening," Toby seethed.
"They're gonna appreciate the change of pace," Sam said. "People get weary. Toby, they are as sick of this thing as we are."
"They still tune in and it still matters to them," Toby reminded him.
"But how nice it is to get a day or two of reprieve," Josh pointed out. "Break the cycle and people will notice. They might appreciate it. They might get bored more quickly with this thing."
"What color is the sky in your world, Josh?" Toby asked.
"It's dark, Toby," Josh said coldly. "It's very, very dark, and it scares the hell out of me. We need a moment's reprieve, and this is the only chance I can see. We can't wait for some national or international tragedy. History is made by moments like this. Our future is hung on this moment. If we can force even slightest pause in this tirade it could be enough..."
"Could be?" Toby shouted.
"We need to spin this so that any retaliation we get from the GOP will look like desperation," Sam said. "I know it's not the most brilliant political strategy, but I agree with Josh."
"Toby, I think this is all we've got," Josh added. "It's all I've got at least. What you're suggesting, I can tell you it won't work."
"They might do all three," Toby pointed out. "Your three, simplistic and I think cursory, assessments of our opponent's tactics could all hit us at once."
"They can't," Josh said. "They'll either come at us or they'll wait."
"They'll come at us," Toby said confidently.
"Not without a strategy," Sam offered. "We do something they don't expect, they'll want to check it out before their next move."
"Our next move is no move at all?" Leo asked skeptically.
He looked at Josh, not sure of the sanity behind the concept. Then again, he wasn't so sure about the sanity of its author, but he'd laid a long shot wagers on his deputy before and was paid off.
"Yeah," Josh said with a casual nod.
"Are you nuts?" Leo asked.
"Yeah," his deputy said, offering his hand to be shaken. "Josh Lyman. We've met before."
"Leo, we should consider this," Sam said enthusiastically. "No offense, Toby, but if we get defensive--even if we think it's playing offense--we look like we're scrambling to get our balance. We need to look confident and solid."
"It'll look arrogant," Toby said.
"So be it," Josh replied. "We've earned that right. I don't think that's how it will look, but if it does, so what. Arrogance isn't such a bad thing."
"It's done you a world of good," Toby snapped.
"I agree that we can't look desperate, and we can't look as though we are out of control," Leo agreed. "I'm not sure what I think about this idea. You want me to pitch to the President that his top guys want to let allegedly calm and decidedly stubborn heads prevail?"
"Beijing, 1990," Josh said. "Guy stands in front of a tank. Was he going to stop it? Come on! Guy was crazy to try that. But how many Americans did that impress?"
"We can't do nothing," Toby said hammering his point
home again.
Josh stood from his seat and approached Toby, who was standing near
the wall. The deputy placed himself inches from the speech writer,
standing fore square in his way and looked back at him with an unreadable
expression.
"What the hell are you doing?" Toby asked, the frustration evident in his voice and from the redness rising in his cheeks.
"I'm standing here until you make me move," Josh said simply.
"What?" Toby asked incredulously.
The stand off lasted roughly another minute. Leo watched the two men stare back at each other. Toby's gaze growing more pointed, and Josh's remaining eerily neutral. Neither moved a muscle, twitched and eyebrow or even blinked. Toby finally sighed forcefully and stepped to the side, away from Josh.
"That's enough," Leo said. "Josh you made your point."
"What point?" Toby asked.
"You didn't push him," Sam said. "You stood there and did nothing, just like Josh. He bought a minute of nothingness just by not making a move."
"This is the only thing I know right now," Josh sighed as he turned and leaned his back flat against the wall where Toby formerly stood. "I don't think we have anywhere else to go."
"You can't force a stalemate!" Toby argued. "Josh, your idea is as creative and innovative as it is childish and asinine! We're not doing it."
"When did you decide?"
"Hey," Leo said, stepping in between the two men. "Everyone needs to take a step back and remind themselves that we are allegedly grown men who are supposed to conduct themselves in a civilized manner, especially considering we are 10 feet from the Oval Office. And if that doesn't do it for you, I'll ground both of you."
Josh looked away. Toby stared at the carpet. Sam sat in his chair and felt invisible. The typing from the outer office had ceased signally Margaret was keeping a sensitive ear to the proceedings.
"Toby?" Leo asked, deferring to him first, much to Josh's chagrin.
"It's political suicide," Toby said. "We've been on the verge for months, and this is the 'good bye cruel world' of that process."
Leo nodded and considered the words before turning to Josh. He inquired as to his final thoughts on the matter.
"Leo, it's not pretty, and it's not elegant, and
it's... it's not a lot of things," Josh said, sinking his hands into his
pockets as his shoulders drooped. "It won't get us a win, but I'm
telling you that it might be the only thing that gives us that breather
we need. Without it, we don't even get in the race."
*********************
The island breeze gently flew through Donna's platinum locks as she walked toward the entrance of her hotel. The afternoon meetings had been canceled and Donna wanted to let Josh know during her daily check-in session. She had expected to be bombarded with calls from him from the moment she arrived. She was pleased and disappointed when that did not happen. He was managing without her, but she wasn't sure how well. After 48 hours away from him, she thought it was time she inquired into that. She entered the lobby of the Hilton Hawaiian and headed for the front desk.
"Any messages for Room 843?" she asked the young desk clerk.
When the clerk said that no messages were left for her, she thanked him and went to her room. Donna effortlessly swiped her keycard in the door and entered.
"I don't see why Josh has such a difficult time with these things," she said to herself. "A three year old could do it. Then again, this is Josh."
Donna placed her bag in the chair, picked up the phone and dialed the office.
After several dozen rings to the office, Donna tried his cell. When that didn't work, she tried his pager - twice. After not getting an answer from any piece of electronic device closely associated with Josh, she dialed the Communications Bullpen.
"White House Communications."
"Hey, Ginger, it's Donna. Any idea where Josh is?"
"Oh, Donna," Ginger's voice lowered. "How are you? How's the trip?"
"Fine," Donna said slowly. "Ginger, why are you whispering?"
"Toby's on the warpath," she enlightened. "You missed a real knock down, drag out verbal assault between Josh and Toby. The meeting this morning apparently was ugly with a capital U. Sam's been running interference between them ever since."
"Oh, no," Donna groaned. "Should be there?"
"Trust me, Donna," Ginger said. "You don't want any part of this. Not only are they taking it out on each other, but also all of the assistants, even the messengers, get their heads taken off for just saying hello. It's brutal. You are the envy of everyone around here today."
Donna stood silent for a few moments. She knew that thing between Josh and Toby hadn't been well since the staff was informed of the President's illness, even more so that Toby was the one who told her instead of Josh. The battle for the President's ear had always been somewhat friendly, at times a little heated, but never to this extreme.
"Thanks for the information, Ginger," Donna said. "If you do run into him, let him know that I called."
Donna hung up and stared at the phone. A pang of guilt went through her body. She should be there, if not to help, then to just listen as he blew off steam. Donna stilled worried about his PTSD, but not as much as she did after she went to Leo's office that fateful night two Decembers ago. Nonetheless, if Josh didn't have someone there to calm him down, there's no telling what he might do.
Donna took a deep breath, reached into her bag and
pulled out her laptop. This was her last resort to communicating with Josh,
so she hooked the phone line in and fired off a quick email.
To:
From:
Time: 12:35
Subject: Meetings
Josh:
1) Attached are yesterday's notes from the morning and afternoon
session. I will forward today's notes later today.
2) Afternoon meetings were canceled, so I'm going to go out and
enjoy this one afternoon of freedom.
3) Called and got no answer. Heard from Ginger that things are not
well. Sorry I'm not there.
4) Be home at 11:15 pm Thurs.
-D
Resigned to the fact that there was nothing she could do five time zones away, Donna changed into comfortable clothes and decided to hit the local stores.
*******************
The sun was disappearing into the Pacific Ocean as Donna made her way back to the hotel. Armed with dozens of shopping bags, she had gotten gifts for her family and just about all the senior staff, except for Josh. She knew Josh wasn't into cheesy souvenirs designed to catch the average tourist visiting the islands. But, she wanted to get something special, to show him how much she appreciated this assignment, and after what she heard earlier that day, she felt he needed something.
Donna was about to enter the elevator when she heard a familiar, yet out of place voice.
"Donna? Donna Moss?"
She turned to find Marilyn standing next to her. The general manager, clad in a turquoise tank and floral print skirt, smiled.
"What are you doing here?" Marilyn asked. "How did you manage to get out of the Lyman grasp?"
"Oh, Josh sent me out here for a DNC meeting. He couldn't go because of…"
"Right," she nodded as they entered the elevator. "You don't need to say anything further. I don't want to be the next person on Rayburn's hit list."
"Yes," Donna said. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, a couple of college friends and I go on vacation each year," Marilyn replied. "This year we decided to go to Hawaii. They're going to a club tonight, but that's not my thing. Hey, if you're able, let's grab something to eat. I'm in room 956."
The elevator stopped at Donna's floor and she exited. "Um, let me see how things stand and I'll let you know."
The ladies said their good-byes and Donna headed
for her room. Upon entering, she set her bags on the floor and immediately
went for her laptop. She was relieved to find a response from Josh.
To:
From:
Date: 18:58
Subject: Re: DNC
Attachments received. Will read notes tonight. Nothing for you to concern yourself about me.
Stop by the office after flight lands..
--J
Donna frowned after reading the brief response. It was a mixed bag of information, but it left her worried. No matter what he said, something was wrong. The message was brief--almost terse--and despite the over-bearing request to come into work at midnight after spending all day on a plane, the message did not contain no jabs about spending valuable time shopping rather than devoted to the tasks assigned. She had looked forward to at least one. That his mind was else where was more evident than ever. Donna closed her email and turned on the television, trying to distract herself from the problem that was thousands of miles away. The current commercial ended, and another one played starring Josh's favorite 'dude.'
Suddenly, an idea struck Donna.
She turned off the television and reached for the telephone. She dialed Room 956.
"Hey, it's Donna. I think I'll take you up on your
dinner offer. I've got something to ask you…"