Authors: Westwinger247 and Enigmatic Ellie
Webpage: http:\\wing_nuts.tripod.com
The campaign rolled on after New Hampshire. It was a given the President would win the Democratic nomination, so the staff was little interested in the convention results. They concentrated instead on the numbers that counted: Electoral votes. Armed with a plan to run for President while their opponents were busy slugging it out for the Republican nomination, Bartlet's team crisscrossed the country.
A feeling of rejuvenation was starting. Campaigning as the long shot was familiar territory to them. And while polls showed the President's approval rating was no lower than it was at his lowest point before his MS disclosure, that did not set well with the staff in strategy meetings. These meetings, due to the mobile nature of the office during the late winter, frequently took place via the phone. As February disappeared and March crawled into view, most of the staff was winging its way back to the east coast on Air Force One following an encouraging trip to Arizona, New Mexico and California.
Charlie Young entered the small conference room down the hall from the President's on-board office to find Toby Ziegler sporting a murderous look.
"Hey Toby," the aide said with a casual and cautious demeanor.
"WHO THE HELL TOOK MY PAPER?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Someone on board this aircraft took my New York Times - BEFORE I read it," Toby bellowed as he glared at the empty table before him. "Who's been in here in the last 10 minutes?"
Charlie shrugged and kept a straight face, forcing himself to see the dire implications of the speechwriter's crisis.
"Well, I saw Donald Crickmore of the Baltimore Sun in the hall outside a while ago but...."
"He should read the Times," Toby seethed. "Lousy excuse for a columnist; guy couldn't write his was out of a paper bag if I gave him a novel to copy!"
"But I don't think he took it," Charlie continued.
"Fine," Toby sighed explosively. "The amazing disappearing newspaper. At least I have my...."
He looked around sharply, searching for the small white paper satchel that held a glorious treat he had hoped to savor while digesting the New York take on the nation's news. His search was in vein. The bakery bag was gone.
"My danish!" he howled. "Someone stole my danish!"
"It's like a conspiracy, isn't it?"
"GINGER!"
"She hasn't boarded yet, Toby," Charlie said knowingly. "She and Carol were with CJ. They checked out of the hotel last. They were just getting here a few minutes ago. I just wanted to tell you that we're going to be delayed a couple minutes due to some bad weather over the Rockies."
"Fine," Toby pouted, dropping into a chair with a sour twist to his lips. "I get no respect around here. First my paper, then my danish and now the weather."
"What could be next?" Charlie chided. "I'd worry about the Bill of Rights if I were you... and good seats at the next Wizards game."
"Mocking me, Charlie?"
"It's a danish and a paper, Toby," Charlie shrugged. "They can be replaced. As for the respect thing, who would steal those from you? Who would be that foolish?"
Sam Seaborn appeared in the doorway a moment later, the remains of a crusty pastry at his lips as he feverishly read the Op-Ed piece in that morning's New York Times. Charlie caught Toby's eye in that instant then ducked his head.
"I'm gonna go play with matches or something," Charlie said, taking his leave.
"Toby, did you read this?" Sam asked, taking a seat next to his boss. His glasses were perched smartly on his nose and his eyes were wild with stress and anxiety. "Did you read what Bill Goodson said about Seth Gillette?"
"No, Sam," Toby replied flatly. "I did not. Want to know why I did not read that?"
"Not really, but you should read it anyway," Sam continued. "He's calling him out. He's telling Gillette to run."
"Ex...excuse me?"
"The headline says it all," Sam answered, handing the page to Toby. The headline on the piece was a brief and accurate synopsis of the political columnist's opinion: Run, Seth, Run.
"What?" Toby said, snapping the page taut before him. "Okay, this is not making my day go any better."
As Toby mulled over the writer's bold words, CJ entered the room, a copy of the paper in her hand. She waved a fist full of notes off the wire in the air.
"No! No! No!" Toby bellowed as he read further.
"Ah, the mating call of Ziegler's everywhere; it must be spring time," she said. "I take you're reading the thing."
"Goodson's calling on Gillette to run," Sam informed her. "Yeah, we're on it."
"I know," she said, handing her pages to Toby. "I read it. I also read Gillette's chief of staff's comment. He said Gillette is not going to make a move just because the right wing of the Republican Party wants to us him as a pawn."
"Well, that's probably somewhere other than this column then," Sam replied.
"Yeah."
"He won't run," Toby proclaimed finally, putting all papers aside. "This is nothing."
"You think he's just doing this to get a seat at the table?" Sam asked. "You think he's bluffing us?"
"I know he's bluffing," Toby said. "He's bluffing because he wants us to court him. He's not going to run because he knows if he does he's going to split the Party and that guarantees a Republican in the White House. A Republican in the White House..."
"With a 50/50 Senate and Republican House means he gets no where because...." Sam continued.
"Because he doesn't have anyone who needs to listen to him," CJ concluded. "He'd be taking his own knees out if he ran."
"So," Toby said, calmer than he was before, "he's not going to run. He just wants us to worry he will so we'll buddy up. This is a little tantrum. He's doing it because I did the reverse option and put him on the Blue Ribbon Commission."
"So, we're not worried?" Sam queried, nodding as he found logic with Toby's assessment.
"I worry about everything of importance," Toby said. "You... you can worry about the unimportant stuff--you seem to be good at that. So, Gillette, he's yours. He's nothing."
"We're pissed but not worried?" CJ surmised.
"Of course we're pissed," Sam answered. "But we don't say we're pissed. We just.... We don't do or say anything about it. Like Toby said, we are concentrating on the business of the country. Whatever Gillette wants to do is within his preview. By not paying him any mind, we can knock him down a couple of pegs. Have we heard from Leo?"
"He's talking with the President now," CJ said.
"I don't want this on the President's plate," Toby said instantly.
"Well, you're probably too late," CJ said. "As I was leaving, the President asked about Gillette and Leo called in Josh to talk with the President about it."
"Why did he want Josh to talk about it?" Sam asked.
"Well, I'm just going out on a limb here, Sam," CJ said bluntly. "But since he's Leo's Deputy and whenever they want a political perspective on things they call him in, I'm guessing he's our political guy."
"I'm a political guy," Sam informed her.
"Yeah, but you guys always talk about how Josh does things."
"I do things, too."
"The President doesn't need to be a part of this discussion," Toby said, raising his voice to rejoin the conversation and bring it back to a relevant point.
"Toby, he can know what's going on," CJ said. "It's sort of nice when the President and candidate has a clue what is going on outside his immediate sphere."
"He doesn't need to weigh in on this," Toby argued. "Some reporter on this plane lobs a question at him about Gillette and he gives any answer other than complete mystification and we're..."
"You want the public to see the President as ignorant of the actions of vocal members of his own Party?" CJ asked.
"I want reporters to see the President pays little attention as possible to Seth Gillette's ambitions," Toby continued. "I just said 10 minutes ago that we don't give this guy any daylight on our stage. None! I don't want Seth Gillette to think we had to brief the President on the proper way to deal with this thing. Keeping him off the page will show that he is not a threat. At this point, the less we tell the President about non-issues like junior senators from nowhere the better off we are."
"So, ignorance breeds confidence?" she asked.
"I've had crazier things work," Toby assured her.
"We have to have him focused on the trip and what we just accomplished with the job incentives in the West," Toby declared. "I don't want any other campaign related thing on his mind. We did well this week. Let's not foul it up by suddenly jumping into a game we don't need to play."
"Okay, so just to get me on board here, if it's a non-issue, why would he worry?" CJ asked. "We're not worried. Right? You said we're not worried, Toby."
"We're not worried, CJ," Toby said then sighed explosively and ran his hands over his head, feeling the heat from his reddened face and scalp.
"Toby, you need to just relax," Sam observed.
"Really, take it easy for a little while. Read the paper. Get
something to eat. There was great pastry around here before. You
should see if there's any left."
*********************
"Charlie!" Bartlet called to his Personal Aide after disconnecting with Leo.
"Yes, sir?" Charlie entered the room.
"Yeah," he responded as he put on his reading glasses. "Would you see if there's a map of Arizona lying around anywhere?"
"Yes, sir," Charlie replied but offered the Commander-in-Chief as questioning look. "But I'm sure you can pull one up on the monitor."
"Well, I suppose," he relented. "But the feel of a map makes it so much more real."
"Of course," Charlie replied, making sure the avert his eyes in case they unconsciously executed an ill-timed role.
"Leo and Josh are ready to play out a scene from High Noon with Seth Gillette," Bartlet said. "They think he's ready to cut a deal with some moderate Republicans."
"Well, that's what you pay them for," Charlie observed.
"The moderates or my staff?" the President queried.
"Well, the Repbulicans aren't on the payroll, are they?"
"Just seeing if you were listening," Bartlet said adjusting his glasses as he looked over some notes Leo had faxed him regarding Gillette's options.
Charlie nodded then left the room briefly. He returned with a well-thumbed road Atlas of the United States and offered it to the President.
"Arizona is a great state, Charlie," he said taking the book in his hands. "Did you know there are more sunny days in Arizona than in Florida?"
"I did not, Mr. President," Charlie replied. "But, with the dryness of the state, I would assume that they would have more sunny days."
"There are," Bartlet continued. "And yet Florida is called the Sunshine State. They really should base these names more on facts."
"Yes, sir," Charlie sighed.
"Have you ever driven across Arizona?"
"No, sir," Charlie answered. "I'd never really left the eastern seaboard until I started working for you and we haven't been to Arizona a lot."
"It's big country, Charlie," the President pointed out. "You should see more of it than demographically important voting regions. You know, I've always wanted to drive across the country.... in an RV perhaps."
Charlie lowered his head, took a deep breath and asked the question that he knew he shouldn't. "Uh... an RV, sir?"
"The freedom of the open road, endless miles of roads laid out before you like ribbons," Bartlet pointed to the lines on the map. That's the way to campaign. Get back to the roots. Get to know the people. We should do that. Take the staff on a tour that way. I could act as a historical guide to a variety of regions."
"We have the luxury of Air Force One," Charlie pointed out. "It's, you know, safe and secure."
"But the adventure, Charlie," the President argued, readjusting his glasses to study further. "This is so sterile. So removed from those who are governed. To be closer to them is the point."
"Right, sir."
"Diners and truck stops and out of the way roadside attractions."
"Yes, sir."
"Wichita for example," Bartlet began. "We've been there several times, but have we ever gone to the Wizard of Oz memorial?
"Isn't Wichita in Kansas?" Charlie asked.
"Yes."
"Then there's a good reason we didn't see the Wizard of Oz Memorial in Arizona."
"I was just giving an example, Mr. Smarty Pants," the President quipped.
"Well, then I have an example, too," Charlie said. "Your security detail. The Secret Service wouldn't been too keen on your little road trip. The might be the first in history to mutiny."
"It's Americana not some seedy college joyride," Bartlet argued. " The Secret Service would be welcome to join us. They might like it."
"I think they kind of have to go with you, sir," Charlie observed.
"The more the merrier, I say," Bartlet replied as he traced his finger along a highway. "And the history we could all learn…"
"Right."
"Anything else, Mr. President?" Charlie asked.
"An RV, a tank of gas and an Atlas of the US.... Oh, and get Leo on
the phone again."
***************
Air Force One was streaming along the American skies. The pilot announced that they were five hours away from Andrews and they saw little turbulence ahead and should arrive on schedule. To placate the restless Press Corp, and to keep CJ from opening the bay doors, a movie was started. Sam was watching the movie through a monitor in the room adjoining the press area while Toby scribbled some information down from the recent visits to the West to present to Leo at the staff meeting.
"Well, the zoo animals are all staring mindlessly at the screen," CJ said as she entered the room. "That new guy from Iowa asked me if this particular Air Force One was used for Air Force One. I told him they built a set. I'm right, right?"
"You are; it wasn't," Toby answered, not looking up from his notebook.
"They did a map of it though," Sam interjected. "Looks the same."
"It's Hollywood, Sam," Toby said. "They could probably find a double and replace you. Wait, are you sure you're Sam Seaborn? 'Cause you haven't given me any drafts with typos in three weeks."
"I'm sensing hostility," Sam replied, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
CJ took a seat next to Sam and delved into his popcorn bucket. "So, I'm wondering how this movie ever got.... well, anyone to see it."
Sam looked at the quick disappearance of his long awaited treat. "CJ, Harrison Ford is in it. There is stuff exploding and a hero to save the day. This is a bread and butter script."
"I know that," CJ replied. "But.... I mean, there's far-fetched and then there's this...."
"The American Public will believe anything that you throw at them," Sam mentioned. "You throw the Leader of the Free World on the movie screen and portray him as an action star, then they'll go out and buy those tickets."
"Which is where my point about lacking any semblance of reality comes in..."
"How can you say that?" Sam asked. "Okay, so it's not likely, but politicians can be brave."
"There's brave and there's taking on a plane of terrorists," she pointed out, scowling at the screen.
"Are you saying that politician's can't be heroes?"
"Action heroes like this," she rebutted then stopped. "That's not my point really. What I'm saying is, I had a reporter just ask me if this plane was used in the film because some director demanded the authenticity, and yet he needed it for a film with a plot so farfetched. This is not believable."
"It could be on some level," Sam continued, as he moved his bucket away from CJ. "There are brave people who..."
"Well, I don't know any politician who would hear gun fire and race toward the sound," CJ said.
"Josh might," Sam observed.
"I'm sorry?"
"Well, not race toward it," Sam corrected. "But he doesn't flinch. You'd think he'd... Well, you know. But he doesn't. I saw it. When we were in Chicago last time. There was that shooting around the corner. Everyone jumped at the sound and he just.... well, nothing. He turned his head to look, but he didn't seem concerned."
Toby snapped his notebook shut. "That's because it wasn't a real shooting Sam."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked, befuddled.
"The only thing that got shot was film," Toby sighed. "They briefed hotel security and told us. They were filming something for a TV show."
"Where were you when we got this briefing?" CJ asked, snatching the popcorn bucket away.
"In the coffee shop," Sam admitted.
"So long as you were being diligent in your duties," Toby growled.
"They had this incredible blueberry muff..." Sam began but decided to halt the diatribe after receiving Toby's ice-cold stare.
"Well, they did," Sam pointed out.
"So, back to my point," CJ relaxed in her seat. "Sam, do you see the President as being... well, someone who would take back the plane from terrorists?"
"Well, he could hold terrorists hostage with some Latin or a story..." Toby replied, picking up his mangled copy of the Times.
"Now, Tobus, are you saying the president is boring?"
"Need I mention a certain Thanksgiving, Claudia Jean?"
"Point taken," CJ relented.
"I think the President's command of Latin is commendable," Sam said as he grabbed a handful of popcorn.
"Just wait until it's your turn," Toby explained. "In fact, I'm scheduled to meet with him later today. Why don't you join me?"
"Well, I have a thing..." Sam answered, turning his attention to the monitor beside him.
"No you don't," Toby corrected.
"I'm looking to have one."
"Well, you're not anymore," Toby responded. "You're coming with me."
"This is more hostility," Sam observed.
"Someone stole my danish and newspaper this morning," Toby said with a loud snap of the newspaper.
"Think of them as donations," Sam declared.
"Donations?"
"To a good cause."
"Sam's entertainment and breakfast," CJ chuckled.
"That's not a good cause," Toby grumbled.
"If you were an action hero, you wouldn't be this grumpy," Sam pointed out.
"If I were an action hero, you might not be in my presence," Toby retorted with another snap of the paper.
"Every hero needs a sidekick, remember?" Sam reminded his boss.
"Superman doesn't," Toby amended.
"He's an exception."
"Yeah," Toby said. "So, what special powers does Typo-Boy have, other than an ability to spell perfect with a 3?"
"Apparently he can steal your danish and newspaper without being seen or stopped," CJ smirked.
"Stay out of this Amazon woman," Toby snarled.
"Amazon women were powerful and beautiful and feared by many," CJ informed him.
"And that would be a wonderfully empowering thing in my book," Sam observed, "but it doesn't help me right now."
"Sam," CJ turned and stared at him, "how are we spelling 'go away' these days--with or without a 2?"
A knock on the door interrupted the discussion. Charlie entered with a nod towards Toby. "The President would like to see you Toby."
Toby nodded, grabbed his notebook and left the room.
"Charlie, ask the President if he's feeling revved up to tackle a cell leader."
"No, I don't think I will."
**************************
Late afternoon waltzed into Washington, D.C. The President's transport was still an hour away but business continued in the West Wing. The Chief of Staff's Office was, however, relatively quiet. The same could not be said for the Roosevelt Room just around the corner where the Deputy Chief of Staff was conducting a meeting bridge gaps between the Party leadership and the Administration on proposed changes to the Welfare Reform Act.
The door from Leo's office to the hallway leading to the Roosevelt Room was open, the muffled sounds of discord being whipped into discontent and then (hopefully) accord occasionally wafted into the room. Leo paid them little mind. If the sound of wood splintering occurred, he vowed he would show interest. Until then, it was Josh's show. In the meantime, Leo was reading the latest briefing on the situation in Argentina and how the IMF was likely to deal with that country defaulting on their loans.
He was deeply engrossed and fighting off an army of yawns when the trilling beside his elbow registered. He looked at his phone to see the light blinking indicating a call. It was an internal call from the ring but the LCD on the phone registered a long-distance number.
"Margaret!"
No answer. Two more tries in the midst of three more rings brought the same result before he recalled she had mentioned something about a dentist appointment. With a heavy sigh and punched the speakerphone button on the machine.
"Yeah," he answered tersely.
"Happy Birthday!" the woman's voice proclaimed, no the least bit deterred by his "this better be a national emergency tone."
"What the hell?" he replied, shocked by both the caller and her words. "Anna? Is that you?"
"Yes," Anna Lyman replied sounding relaxed and pleased with her surprise greeting. "Now, why do they say hearing is the first thing to go at our age?"
"Why are you calling?"
"I stand corrected," she chuckled. "Maybe your hearing has gone. I said Happy Birthday."
"Oh well....," Leo grumbled uncomfortably. He had made it through the entire day to that point without anyone uttering those idiotic words to him. Mallory was home sick with laryngitis. She had sent him a card, but that was different. She hadn't actually said the words to him. "Is that all you wanted?"
"Oh, I get something I want?" she teased.
"I'm not firing him," Leo said quickly. "Nice try."
"Thank you, but really I called to wish you a happy birthday only," Anna said.
"I don't celebrate my birthday," Leo growled.
"You should," Anna scolded him lightly. "Life is something to celebrate. When the days dwindle down, every birthday is a blessing."
"Well, I celebrate it my way then," Leo said. "I show up to work every day."
"Yes, all the powerful little boys in Washington ruling the sandbox," Anna chided. "It's all very important and exciting. I know. I know. Leo, you're not as gruff as you pretend, but your manners are deplorable."
"I am this gruff--you don't know me all that well if you think otherwise--and there's nothing wrong with my manners."
"I wished you a happy birthday," Anna informed him. "You did not thank me."
"Fine," Leo sighed, admitting defeat and grudgingly smiling--glad the caller could not see. "Thank you, Anna."
"Say it like you mean it," she ordered.
"What the hell are you my mother?" Leo chuckled. "I'm a grown man--and thank you for reminding me I'm an old grown man, by the way. So how is it that you can make me feel like I'm going to be grounded because you didn't like my tone?"
"It's a mother's secret," Anna informed him. "I could tell you, but being a man you'd never understand."
"Well, thank you," Leo continued. "I mean it. How are you? And don't say: 'I'd be better if you fired my son' because I'm still not going to."
"No, no," she agreed. "I wasn't going to. Not this time anyway."
"Why?" Leo asked suspiciously. "What do you know that I don't?"
"Nothing," she said mildly. "I decided this would not be a business call. That's all."
"So you spoke with him," Leo surmised. Anna's pleas to fire Josh were always less adamant after she had had a conversation with him. "You sound different, the way you do when he's assured you he's not gonna get... Well, you know what I mean."
"Maybe it's the sunshine," she ventured. "Florida is a very bright state."
"Why did you move there?"
"It's what widowed Jewish women from Connecticut do, Leo," Anna said. "I think it's a the state's constitution."
"Whatever."
"It was the house, Leo," Anna said. "It was too big for just me. All those extra rooms made me lonely. Plus, so many of my friends had moved here and the chance to get away from the awful New England winters was too tempting to pass up."
"Are you convincing me it was a good idea or yourself," Leo wondered. "You could have just moved down there part time. Deed the house over to Josh if it made financial sense for you. Get a condo down there part time. It would help him out. He keeps forgetting where you live."
"Oh please," Anna moaned. "Don't give me his argument about the swallows. I don't think I can bear to hear it. Besides, Josh doesn't like Connecticut enough to want to live there ever again. Doing it this way makes the most sense. I wanted to simplify things--especially for him. Someday, I will be gone and a house that needs to be sold is one less thing he'll have to deal with."
"You're not going anywhere for a while," Leo reminded her. "You're too ornery."
"You say such sweet things."
"Only to you."
"Leo, if I was still capable of blushing, I would be right now," Anna said warmly.
"Are you saying that you're too old to blush?" Leo asked.
"Me?" Anna laughed loudly. "Certainly not. I get younger everyday. No, it's just that when you spend the majority of your adult life married to a man who believes bluntness is a virtue, you stop feeling embarrassed quickly. You forget, Noah's demeanor made Joshua look very tame by comparison."
"How could I ever forget Noah?" Leo responded. "The majority of the New England Bar Association can still hear his voice echoing down the halls of several court houses to this day. He did have a bit of a temper and stubborn streak in him when he got an idea in his head and the decibels always seemed to follow."
"Well, remember him the next time your deputy says something stupid and loud," Anna reminded him. "I'm not making excuses for him--God knows--but it's really not this fault he is the way he is. He had an.... interesting mentor as a child. Of course, if his behavior is unsuitable at anytime, I welcome you to show him the door."
Leo shook his head. For a woman who professed no knowledge of or interest in politics, Anna Lyman could manipulate any conversation expertly to her liking. Leo was never fully convinced it was Noah's profession and influence that shaped Josh's career aspirations and ambitions. His mother was a formidable force as well.
"Well, with you as his mother, I'm surprised he's not as meek as a mouse," Leo said. "You're such a demure and subservient kind of gal."
"You're being sweet again," she said. "Keep it up and I just might feel compelled to sing Happy Birthday to you."
"Oh god, please don't," Leo said quickly. "Stuff like that starts scandals and we don't need any more headlines."
As he chuckled with the thought of his serenade, there was a knock on the door leading to Margaret's area. Leo called to the newcomer with a gruff order to enter. The door opened and Donna appeared carrying a Hostess Twinkie impaled with a tiny pink candle.
"Sorry, this was all that I could find," she grinned. "The candle was left over from a baby shower for one of the secretaries and the Twinkie is all that was left in the vending machine that looked cake-like. But, Happy Birthday, Leo. Make a wish."
"I wish you'd get back to work," Leo growled then looked at the phone menacingly. "I blame you for this."
"I'm sorry?" Donna asked.
"Not you, her," Leo replied.
"Who her?" Donna asked, looking around the room skeptically. "Is there someone else here?"
"The phone," Leo sighed. "Why the hell am I telling you this?"
He paused then rubbed his hand over his creased face before lifting his eyes toward his other door. The sounds of the Lyman Compromise Machine had ceased.
"Hey, he's been in there a long time," Leo remarked to Donna. "How's he doing?"
"The shouting stopped 20 minutes ago and no one called for an ambulance so..."
"Yeah."
"He said he should be finished soon and that he needs a few minutes afterward with you," she said.
"Fine."
"Aren't you going to make a wish?"
Leo looked at her with his stern face; she smiled back sweetly and naively. She either did not recognize it for what it was or he was slipping in his old age.
"You don't want to know what I wish," Leo said after a moment, watching the wax drip onto the snack cake. He blew a little puff of air at the flickering flame to extinguish it. Donna clapped a brief approval and offered him another bright beaming smile.
"Thank you Donna, dear," Anna said after hearing the exchange.
"Anna?" Donna said in surprise as she looked at the phone. "Oh, you're talking to Leo! Now, I understand. I'll leave you two alone."
"Gee, that's very thoughtful considering this is my office and I told you to..."
"Leo!" Anna scolded.
"Right," he sighed. "Thank you, Donna. Now, could you get the hell back to work maybe?"
"You bet," she grinned then exited quietly and quickly.
"Why do you do this to me?" Leo asked the phone.
"Because I like to torture dumb animals," Anna chuckled.
"Now, wait a minute," he objected. "You know, if you weren't Noah's wife...
"I'm not," she said seriously. "Not any more. In Joshua's mind, perhaps. Leo, I miss Noah and I will always love him, but I'm a widow. I'm not a married woman anymore."
"So, your dance card's filling up in the Sunshine State, huh?"
"You wouldn't believe how popular I have become," she said.
"Can't be any more than before," Leo said. "You were always a hot ticket, Anna. You still turn men's heads wherever you go. Throughout history, nations have gone to war over women like you as a form of appreciation."
"Why, Mr. McGarry," Anna responded coquettishly. "You shouldn't say things like that. Might lead a woman to the wrong conclusion."
"The only conclusion I'm looking for is to win this election," Leo said, feeling his face go a bit red. "After that... Well, who knows."
"Well, this election thing must be a breeze," Anna said. "After all, I've been told that you have the greatest living master politician on your staff. Surely that makes things easier."
"You heard that did you?" Leo asked feigning surprise. "Yeah, I go home at night and sleep well with that bit of information."
"Am I sensing some disagreement with that depiction?"
"Not enough to fire him."
"Well, I tried."
"Yeah, again," Leo observed. "And here I thought you said you were calling just for me."
"I am calling just for you," Anna reassured him. "I merely got side tracked...."
There was a brief rap on Leo's door as it swung inward. Josh appeared looking weary but victorious.
"Leo, we just finished...," he began instantly without realizing Leo had another conversation in full swing.
"It's just that the sound of your husky voice makes me loose my concentration," Anna continued.
Josh stopped dead in his tracks and stared in horror at Leo then the phone and back to Leo again.
"What the hell?" he exclaimed.
"Darling!
"M... Mom?" Josh asked shocked.
"How'd the meeting go?" Leo asked back in his business persona.
"How did...," Josh started but was unable to complete a sentence. He looked back at the phone, the words he heard echoing in his head. "Are you flirting with Leo?"
"I'm wishing him a happy birthday, darling," Anna said brightly.
"It's no big deal," Leo said shrugging off the appalled look he was receiving from his deputy. "Take a seat, Josh. You look like you need it."
"No... no big deal?" he repeated as he sank into a chair opposite Leo's desk. "Marilyn singing to Jack Kennedy was no big deal either. Leo, you're flirting with my mother."
"I'm what?" Leo snapped. "No, I'm not. I'm... We're... We're just talking."
"I walked in on," Josh buried his face in his hands. "God, I don't know what.... I don't think I want to know."
"This is my office," Leo reminded him.
"Good point," Josh nodded.
"Joshua, did you remember it was Leo's birthday?" Anna asked.
"Yeah."
"Did you wish him a Happy Birthday?"
"No," Josh said, still looking and feeling sick.
"Why not?" his mother asked sternly.
"Because he asked me not to," Josh said truthfully.
"That's why I won't fire him," Leo said directly to the phone.
"She asked you to fire me?" Josh gasped then turned his voice toward the phone. "You asked him to fire me?!"
"It's no big deal," Leo said. "She does it all the time."
"Well, you boys have work to do," Anna said, feeling her time to retreat had arrived.
"Yeah." Leo agreed. "Anna, it was lovely speaking with you. Warn me the next time you're gonna call."
"Next time, I'll call you at home," she promised.
"You'll what?!" Josh cried.
"Good night, darling and take care," Anna said sweetly. "Leo, happy birthday."
"Yeah," Leo responded then stabbed the button disconnecting the call. "Now, the meeting..."
"The...," Josh looked at Leo for a moment, trying to recall why he had come to the office. "Okay, this just.... This is disturbing..."
"Get over it," Leo said tersely. "The meeting?"
"Uh, the meeting?" Josh said, shaking his head and forcing his focus back to the simple business of a schism in the party. "Right. What meeting?"
*****************
It took two weeks.
Toby refused to share Josh and Leo's fears of Seth Gillette. He won Bruno over to his side so campaign related meetings were short affairs. When the team broke, they did so along very definite lines. Toby was mumbling to himself as he left one such meeting.
"What was that?" Sam asked as he followed his boss to the Communication's Bullpen.
"Rasputin was a fraud," Toby crowed. "A fake, Sam. He bamboozeled a monarchy into ruin. Leo and Josh as as guilible as the Czarina."
"Well, that's a simplistic view of history," Sam said. "I agree with you that Leo and Josh are... preoccupied with a certain senator whose name I really don't want to drag into a conversation out of..."
"Seth Gillette with mighty fangs and a fearsome sword," Toby chuckled. "They're as bad as you with your... Never mind."
"Toby?"
"Never mind," he said strolling into his office. "Confidence, Sam. That's what we need. We need more confidence and less caution. We will win this thing. We will win it because we are the team with the goods. And I..."
Josh hurried into the bullpen, his cellphone attached to his ear.
"Toby," he said, snapping his fingers.
"What?"
"Sam, get in there," Josh said with a vehement point toward the TV showing CJ's briefing currently in progress.
"What's going on?" Sam asked.
Josh continued to listen to his caller for a second then snapped the phone shut.
"He jumped," Josh said with a stern look at Toby.
*****************
"CJ," Katie Meyers of the LA Times shouted. "Can you comment on allegation that the President is reconsidering the HUD subsidies for..."
"Katie, if this is that unnamed source again, all I can say is that unnamed sources like to be unnamed because they can't verify what they are talking about," CJ replied. "The Secretary already spoke about this and really, I've got nothing to add."
"Is there any reason the President's schedule for Easter has the egg hunt an hour later than normal?" Jeff Bains of the New Hampshire Chronicle asked.
"Yeah, this year Toby Ziegler is going to dress up and distribute candy," she quipped. "It's gonna take us the extra time to get him into the bunny suit."
"CJ," Danny Concannon asked as Sam Seaborn slipped into the room to tried to catch CJ's eyes. "Seth Gillette is announcing in one hour that he is seeking a third party nomination for the Presidency and will be taking the moderate Republicans and a sizable voting block of Democrats to support him."
CJ looked down at the podium and in her peripheral vision stole a glance at Sam whose expression spoke volumes of panic behind a calm facade.
"What of it?"
"Well, you got a comment?" Danny asked.
"Sure," CJ said with a shrug. "I'm not voting
for him. Okay, that's all for now. I'll be back at 4 unless
any of you have suggestions on how to get Toby into that bunny suit."
Up next--
Chapter17:
Southern
Exposure