Authors: Enigmatic Ellie and Westwinger 247
Posted: January 5, 2002
Homepage: http//:wing_nuts.tripod.com
"How's he doing?" President Bartlet asked as he returned from his meeting with the Middle East advisors. As he breezed into the reception area to the Oval Office, he carried with him his briefcase and a harried look that said if Syria were a person it wouldn't be invited to the first barbecue of the year at the Bartlet farm.
Leo leaned back on Charlie's desk intently watching the TV; the set was tuned to C-SPAN as it broadcast a subcommittee hearing on health care reform and provisions of the Family Health and Wellness Act passed several years earlier. The Act had come under scrutiny after an inflamatory report in a Florida paper accused the White House of some dirty dealing following Senator Stackhouse's filibuster. In light of that, a subcommittee was investigating. Today was the White House's pointman on the Act's turn to get roasted. Several members of the committee had taken the hearings as a chance to reopen the failed case against the President. Knowing that was coming, Josh had been advised to bring White House counsel with him.
"Not bad," Leo said, his tone grave. "He brought Ainsley Hayes with him."
Josh's temper was legendary in some circles, and the bating occurring during questioning had been merciless but ineffective. The questions were just then turning, as they had with others, from the subject at hand, to the President and his involvement in the creation of the health care provisions and spending plan. But, rather than stick to the fact, several members were taking the opportunity to score some final, vindictive and cheap points in prosecuting the President.
Josh's testimony worried the Chief of Staff because of what he might say. Leo knew better than anyone that his deputy had a knack for not keeping his mouth in his pocket. Josh had not been in a cooperative mood as he left the office for the Hill that morning, despite Ainsley's cheerful prodding.
"He's behaving?" Bartlet surmised. "Leo, I told you he'd be fine. He told you he'd be fine. Ainsley, I'm sure, told you he'd be fine."
"He isn't speaking to Ainsley," Leo scowled. "Not once. No conferencing, no pauses, no recesses. Josh is doing this by himself."
"He's been prepped well," Bartlet offered. "He knows the bill. Leo, you're acting like a nervous father at his son's first Little League game."
"This isn't a game, sir," Leo said. "One wrong comment and everything we put behind us in the winter ends up in our faces again. We're picking up speed now. We don't have the time or space to manuever around a speedbump curtesy of Josh's mouth."
"Have some faith," Bartlet smiled. "And just remember, that you're the one who hired him."
"I'm just saying, wouldn't it be nice if Josh pretended he was speaking to the attorney and taking this seriously once in a while?"
"Josh knows how to conduct himself like a professional."
"Very well," Leo nodded. "But that's never stopped him from acting like his father's son."
"That a bad thing?"
"There are moments," Leo said shaking his head.
******************
"So, Mr. Lyman are you saying...." Representative David Huntsworth (R- West Virginia) began.
"If you are having trouble remembering what I said, you can have the transcript read back," Josh said casually, as he took a sip of water from his glass. "And if you'd care to look at the agenda, you'd see what the hearing is supposed to be about. That might help you keep your in questions on track and in understanding my answers."
In that instant, a soft tapping of a pencil on a notebook served as a reprimand. Ainsley's signals were subtle but unquestionable. She was reminding Josh yet again to remain calm. It had worked, miraculously, throughout the morning. Josh had answered dozens of questions, many repetitious--a few completely irrelevant to the proceeings--without a single outburst of the likes that would give Leo an ulcer. While that part of his performance pleased Josh, what gratified him more was the perplexed look on House members faces as he answered every question without consulting counsel. It kept them more rattled than the proceedings had him and that was a victory in Josh's book.
"That will be enough of that, Mr. Lyman," the Chairman said. "Mr. Huntsworth, your time has elapsed."
"If it pleases the Chairman, I have only two more questions," Huntsworth said his toothy grin looking colder than ever. "I have had two interuptions that did stall my questioning."
"Would the witness object to remitting one minute to the gentleman from West Virginia for questioning," the Chairman asked.
"He most certainly would," Ainsley said flatly, speaking for the first time all morning. "Gentleman, the rules were set by you. It appears that you insist on breaking them, but don't ask us to give you our blessing."
****************
"Did she and Josh ever study law together," Bartlet said with a sly grin. "Leo, I thought you were worried about how the committee would react to Josh's answers. I think Gibson and Dearborn nearly gave themselves whiplash just now."
"It's a set up," Leo said cautiously.
"What makes you say that?"
"Gut feeling," Leo replied.
**************
Ainsley tersely admonished the panel for their actions, then graciously assented to the questions. Josh's expression remained bored throughout the exchange. It had been her idea for Josh to not use the normal delaying tactics of consulting with counsel before some questions. They had gone over the relevent questions pertaining to the Act and done some prep-work on the irrelevant ones that might crop up to score some political points or be pitched to restart the stalled news cycle. There was nothing Josh wasn't prepared to answer.
But that didn't mean a stupid question wouldn't crop up.
Huntsworth's had shifted his focus from the funding allotted for neurological disease to the President himself. Josh knew nothing more about the President's health than what was reported to the public during disclosure briefings. Huntsworth found this unbelievable--that someone who had unlimited access to the President wouldn't know more details than those the public knew. He was narrow-minded inquisitor with a fuse much shorter than anyone else in the room.
After a long, seemingly unending preface to a question--one which Josh did lose track of hearing as the near monotone of the man's voice was maddening--the word Rosslyn spilled over the Congressman's lips. Josh heard the name of the town and cocked his head to the side with his first sign of interest.
*****************
"Uh oh," Leo said, leaning forward as Toby and Sam entered the room.
"Leo, did you..." Toby started to say but stooped at Leo waved a hand to silence him.
"I've got in on here just like you," Leo said to Toby.
"He's not going to actually ask Josh about...," Sam began.
"Shh," Leo shushed him as the Huntsworth continued.
*****************
"... so it would seem at that time, he did not disclose the condition," the Congressman continued. "So, my question to you..."
"Mr. Lyman can't possibly answer anything about the President's medical condition that evening," Ainsley interupted. "Nor should he as it has nothing to do with the Family Health and Well-"
"My question is..." Hunstworth continued unhindered.
"Ill advised," Ainsley snarled. "We did not agree to allow you extra time so that you could go on..."
"I am merely questioning whether or not the President's response that night to an ER nurse...."
"I wouldn't know," Josh said firmly, overriding Ainsley's firm tapping on the notebook. "I was a little preoccupied, you know, bleeding from the bullets bought in your hometown, Mr. Huntsworth, by several of your constituents--the ones who shot the President and myself, in an attempt to kill a young man they didn't like because he's black. They belonged to West Virginia White Pride--they donated to your re-election campaign."
****************
There was a deep silence in the outter office as the senior staffers looked at each other then back at the TV. Each man stared at the scene where the Chairman was hammering his gavel incessantly on the bench in an effort to restore some order to the room. Huntsworth looked as though he had swallowed a bee--so did Greville for that matter. Josh appeared composed and almost amused as he shrugged and remained relaxed in his seat.
"That wasn't rehearsed," Sam said breaking the silence.
"No, I don't suppose it was," Toby said rubbing his brow.
*****************
"Yeah," Josh said quietly as he leaned toward Ainsley. "Now, I'm having fun."
"You know, so am I," she nodded. "But don't ever do that again or I'll slap you."
Josh looked down to hide his grin, taking the reprimand as a compliment. He wished he could see the look on Toby's and Sam's faces as they watched the proceedings. It was thanks to Sam that Josh knew the information about Huntsworth's campaign contributors. It was unearthed when Sam was urging Josh to sue the Klu Klux Klan after the shooting. In the deluge of information the FBI had pulled in the hours immediately following the shooting, IRS records were uncovered.
There were several Congressman and Senators who had recieved donations of varying sizes from the West Virginia hate group. The money, research indicated, had been from the Klan but funneled to various campaigns--sometimes unknown to the candidate, sometimes not--via less well-known organzations and affiliations. Josh had been holding Huntsworth's secret for several years, unsure if he would ever need it. He made a mental note thank Sam for his efforts at some point. Though the lawsuit never was initiated--though part of Josh dearly wished it had--the information had been invaluable. He knew the next day's headlines would not focus the President or MS. The hunt would be on in the press for questionable campaign contributions--particularly those of every member of the House committee who insisted on re-investigating the President.
*****************
The days after the hearings brought the normal commotion to Leo's office. When the Chief of Staff arrived one morning a week after the heaings, there was an unexpected yet welcomed message waiting for him. Leo was forced to admitt Josh's testimony had gone better than anticipated, but that didn't make the Chief of Staff any more tolerant of his deputy's unrelenting ego. He liked having Josh around, but he liked sending him away once in a while, too. Leo was finishing formulating the plan when there was a curt rap on his door.
"Yeah," he shouted.
Toby entered holding a folder and a questionable grin.
"I know that look," Leo said. "Painful, isn't it?"
"I like it when we look good," Toby said, sitting opposite Leo's desk. "I like it when we do good. I love it when we do both."
"You just have a hard time accepting that this time it was Josh who did it," Leo finished the thought. "Really, Toby. I understand. When the CNN poll showed our favorables were up six points, Josh was in here. I don't want to bring the guy down when he deserves the accolades, but there are times when I can only take so much of him being pleased with himself."
"He only does that around us," Toby remarked, oddly sage and understanding in his assessment. "Though, why I can't figure."
"I know," Leo said. "What do you have?"
"New numbers," Toby said, offering Leo the folder. "I know we said we needed to put the President at the forefront of the campaign and downplay the staff. Last time out, we all got to be minor celebrities from time to time."
"Notoriously," Leo said with a sour expression. "You want to change things?"
"I want to run with the steam we have," Toby said. "Bruno disagrees, but I see a chance for some spot victories that will give us a little bump here and there. I don't want anything national. I just think in some places where our numbers are better than expected but still not.... fabulous that we should do little things."
"Meaning?"
"Short trip to push the education initiative," Toby said.
"Who would go?"
"Josh," Toby said. "This is not me asking to have him removed from sight--though there have been times when I would have paid for that--this is good politics. It's a simple and efficient way to, at best, shore up some unexpected support and, if not that, then worry the Republicans about their popularity in those regions. It also will force Gillette to spend money that he doesn't have in trying to get heard in these places. The sooner we knock out his bank roll, the soon he takes a nap."
Leo considered Toby's words then looked at the polling data. This was an independent poll done for Toby. The numbers were clear: the House was starting to look like the bad guy; the administration appeared to be cooperating with stoic patience; and the President's medical condition was beginning to bore the public.
"There are other numbers here," Leo remarked as he delved furthering into the report.
"Yeah," Toby said. "Mirror, mirror on the wall..."
"Toby, you didn't!"
"I like to know who should stand next to the President and who shouldn't for big events," Toby shrugged. "Sam will be surprised by some of what's in there."
"And you're going to enjoy telling him what all this means," Leo remarked with a rueful shake of his head.
Toby grinned. Telling his deputy that he was considered "pretty" and "scholarly" was a pleasure Toby wanted to savor. They were not insults by any measure, but when put against Toby's ratings as "distinguished" and "authoritative," Sam's image with the public looked less than impressive.
"But that's not the point now," Toby said, returning to the reason he had gone to Leo's office. "We send Josh to a few places; he comes off good with women's groups. Even before yesterday, he was popular among females in nearly all demographics. I say we use it."
"Women like Josh?" Leo queried in disbelief.
He had heard the statement before and never knew what to make of it--any more than he did the ragtag fan club that appeared from time to time at public events chanting his name.
"Yeah," Toby grimmaced. "I don't understand it either, but it seems either they want to mother him or they want to sleep with him."
"Well, those are some conflicting urges," Leo scowled. "Where do you get this stuff?"
"That last bit is from a poll in USA Today published this week," Toby admitted. "It doesn't say intelligent women."
"Toby, I think we're in big trouble if this nation that has a measurable amount of the female population who are that interested in Joshua Lyman," Leo growled.
"I agree," Toby said. "It's one of the sick parts of our country that I think we need to spend more time correcting, but it's also tool I can use right now."
"Bruno doesn't like it?"
"No," Toby said. "He wants only the President's face on the campaign; a continuing demonstration of his strength and command."
"You want to show the guy has good people surrounding him?"
"I want the public to see what they like and right now some of them like Josh."
"Josh is not running for president," Leo stated then paused. "Thank god for that."
"Illinois, Ohio and Kentucky," Toby said firmly. "That's all I'm saying. Three days--four at the outside. We need some White House presence in several districts right now--we've been toying with the idea for weeks. Let's pull the trigger. Brief trip. Education stops and some stuff with the women's shelfters maybe to coincide with the signing of the changes to the Violence Against Women's Act. They are legitimate issues that deserve our attention and if we happen to give it some attention in some vital places... Ohio is the most important stop; Kentucky the least but..."
"Kentucky is important," Leo said, offering Toby the message that started Leo's day.
Toby read for a few minutes, a troubled snicker emmanating from his mouth as he rubbed his hand over his face.
"Thomas Thoreau?" Toby asked. "He's... He's a Republican."
"He's a Democrat," Leo argued.
"He's a half-crazy, fairly moderate Republican," Toby countered.
"In Kentucky, that means he's a Democrat," Leo said. "He's a former governor..."
"He was the lieutenant governor 15 years ago and assumed office when the real governor died in the middle of the term," Toby reminded him.
"And thus he became the governor," Leo said. "I know he's kind of peculiar."
"He's a loon," Toby said.
"He's... individual," Leo relented. "I know he doesn't usually pay any attention to the Party platform and frankly hasn't a clue what side of the political spectrum he's on for any given issue. But, he's friendly to us; he's not dangerous in any way. He'll carry water for us if we ask and right now he wants to open his wallet."
"He asked for me?" Toby remarked, reading the message again.
"You initially and after yesterday, he wants to meet Josh," Leo said. "So it's women and 60-year-old retired Kentucky governors who like him now."
"Did he say Thoreau happen to say he'd only give his check to the President's Jewish contingent?" Toby asked. "That's what he called me the last time we met. I'm not saying I find fault with that. There is some truth in the statement; its just that the guy is, as I said, half-crazy..."
"He's rich and he's a friend who doesn't want anything but a visit," Leo said. "I checked it out, Toby. This is a gift. He wants two things. He wants to support the President--and this guy is popular so I'm not going to stop him. He also wants to talk about funding some ads--doesn't care about the content so long as they don't make Kentucky sound like a bad place. I think we can do that. What do you say?"
Toby paused and thought for a moment.
"I'll call you from Lexington," he said with a nod.
*****************
That lasted for a record three minutes.
Thankfully for Toby, they came upon the driveway to the Anti-Bellum Manor House belonging to one of the Democratic Party's biggest contributors - the Thoreau family. The Thoreau's had been contributors since the early days of the Party and Josh and Toby were dispatched to the Kentucky residence by Leo to finalize last minute details for a fund raiser that the First Lady was attending the next evening.
Donna marveled at the luscious rose bushes that lined the lengthy driveway. She also imagined that this driveway once was the way for sons to come home from the Civil War and that their family and loved ones were standing on the grand steps of the front porch anxiously awaiting their arrival.
"Did you know," Donna began, "that the name of this house La Maison de la Fleur means 'The House of Flowers?"
"I did you know that I really don't care," Josh replied.
"And," she continued, "in the early days of the Kentucky Derby they supplied the roses that blanketed the winning horse."
"Again, let me express my unwaivering disinterest," he answered.
"You're not listening because you just don't want to admit that you missed our anniversary."
"Our anniversary is next week,"Josh said firmly. "You need to accept that, Donna. I'm the one who hired you so I know when it was. I get to determine these things. Why you insist on arguing..."
"Correcting you," she corrected him.
"I don't know why I keep you around."
"Because I'm witty and erudite."
"You're something," he relented. "That I know."
"Would you two just shut up," Toby growled. "I have listened to this idle prattle from the two of you about every little and insignificant thing under the sun for the last hour and believe me, I seriously contemplated dumping your bodies aside the road twenty miles back."
Toby pulled the car around the magnificent fountain and parked in front of the steps. The trio exited the car and the enormous oak door swung open and a platinum-haired woman emerged.
"You must be from the White House," the lady said with a graceful southern drawl. "My, my. I never thought that some Yankees would look ever so pleasant on the eyes. I'm Blanche Thoreau."
"Josh Lyman," he replied, removing his sunglasses. "This is Toby Ziegler."
Donna cleared her throat and glared at her boss; Josh placed his sunglasses in his breast pocket.
"Well," Blanche smiled, "The Governor is out back at the horseshoe pit. Thomas is rather eager to meet you. If you just enter the foyer, Amanda will show you where it is."
Josh and Toby nodded their thanks and ascended the stairs towards the interior of the house. Donna was quickly on their heels, but an arm reached out and stopped her.
"Now, honey child," Blanche said, "you don't need to bother yourself with those men-folk. All they're gonna talk about is politics. I usually leave that to my husband. I, however, am an expert at entertain'. Let's take a walk, shall we?"
Donna nodded and the two ladies went up to the porch and sat in wicker chairs.
"Now, before I get to entertain'," Blanche began. "I need to know your name. It seems that neither one of those boys were taught proper manners in the presence of a lady."
"Oh, well, Josh is like that sometimes. My name is Donnatella Moss."
"So you're with the adorable one?" Blanche asked. "Well, I'll be."
"You have a lovely house, Mrs. Thoreau," Donna remarked. "I can just imagine how much history it holds."
"Why, thank you darlin'," Blanche replied as she poured them some lemonade. "Believe it or not, this was one of the only manors that General Sherman and his Yankee troops didn't burn."
"How did that happen?"
"The good ol' fashioned way, honey. With tons of southern charm and a basement full of bourbon."
The ladies sat for a couple minutes in silence enjoying the lemonade and the gentle breeze that swept through the wrap around porch.
"If you don't mind me bein' so bold, my dear," Blanche began, "but you seem like you have a bee in your bonnet."
"Bee in my what?" Donna asked.
"I mean you're upset with the Yankee... I mean, the gentleman with the sunglasses," Blanche answered.
"Oh, Josh," Donna nodded. "Well, I don't mean to say Josh is difficult, except that he is. I mean, he can be very sweet. When it suits him. But, sometimes…sometimes you just want to wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze until his eyes pop out."
Blanche softly laughed. "Sounds a lot like the Governor. I cannot tell you how many times I've wanted to have him horse whipped. How long have you been with him?"
"Four years, ma'am." Donna replied.
"Four? Oh, bless your heart, you're still new."
"Everything is still new with him," Donna answered, then took a sip of her lemonade. "He doesn't bother to take note of things so that they can become history."
"How so?"
"Well, I'm sure you don't want to hear this," Donna said, waving off the discussion.
"On the contrary, dear," Blanche replied. "I'm a southern woman. Conversation is our speciality--right next to lemonade and gardening. Now, you were saying."
Before Donna realized it, she was saying more than she intended. She laid into her version of the anniversary debate: how she knew it was on one date but just because of a short break Josh was determined to make it be another date.
"He deliberately forgets our anniversary," Donna said. "He arbitrarily decided its in April because he can be a child about these things. It's in February. It's not something I would forget. He just... He does it every year and every year I let it get to me."
"It's the typical male, honey," Blanche smiled. "Thinking one thing and forgetting the real one. That's why they have us. We're the record keepers in these relationships. How did the two of you meet?"
"I hired myself as his assistant." Donna replied. "Only I didn't know it was him when he came into his office."
"You did?" Blanche remarked. "Why, bless your heart. The Governor and I met and my granddaddy's barbecue. But, I didn't want anything to do with him at first. He was being a complete jackass. But, he wore me down. Been married twenty-five years next month."
"Twenty-five?" Donna said. "Well, congratulations."
"Thank you. Now how come you didn't know it was him in his office?"
"I just found an empty office and started working," Donna began as she tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. "No one stopped me. From the messages I was getting and the memos I was seeing, I gathered this guy was important to the campaign, so when he showed up.... Well, I had this image that Josh Lyman was a much older man--someone in his 50s or so. Anyway, I was answering the phone and he returned to his office. He asked who I was and I said I was Josh Lyman's assistant. Now, Josh claims that he considered having me arrested - thought I was deranged or something for a few seconds. I don't think that's true. He just likes being a pain. What he did was introduced himself. I knew I was busted. So…I worked my wily ways. You see, I had driven to New Hampshire all the way from Wis… Do you really want to hear this?"
"Oh, absolutely, honey child," Blanche reassured Donna and patted her hand. "I'm a sucker for stories like this. Please, continue."
Donna eyed the Southern Belle, gauging her facial expressions. No one, not even her family, had been interested in her stories, especially of how Donna was hired. When she saw the how engrossed Blanche had become in just the preamble to the story, Donna continued.
"Okay," she beamed. "So, I pleaded my case. I told Josh why I was there and what I wanted to do. I wanted to try and start over, find my confidence again. I'd read about then-Governor Bartlet, and I thought that this was the place for me. Josh, however, didn't agree at first. You see, Mrs. Thoreau…"
"Oh, honey, no one calls me Mrs. Thoreau unless I instruct them to.. Please, it's Blanche."
"All right, Blanche," Donna smiled. "It's politics; a presidential campaign no less. There is nothing Josh takes more seriously than a presidential campaign."
"I see…" Blanche paused and listened to a rather boisterous noise coming from the horseshoe pit. "And evidently, can hear it as well. Is he always that loud?"
"No, sometimes he shouts," Donna smiled demurely.
"Well, I'll be horn-swaggled," Blanche commented. "That isn't shouting? Honey, how do you put up with this man on a daily basis? Oh, am I being too forward for you, child?"
"Oh, no," Donna replied. "You are not being nosy. If you want nosy, you should see how he rides rough shod over my life in and out of the office. Well, that's another long story. I don't mean to make Joshua sound like a tyrant -- he can be, but it's just because he's dedicated and expects everyone to give at least half the effort he does. I don't think I'm really painting a good picture of him for you. He's not a terrible person at all. See, what you have to know about him is that you can never really know completely about Josh."
"What do you mean?"
"He'll surprise you at the most unexpected times," Donna admitted with a slight blush.
"He will? Oh, darlin', do tell."
"Take the day we met," Donna said. "He wasn't buying my story. At least, I thought he wasn't. Here's this guy who found a complete stranger in his office rifling through this things. He's the Senior Political Director of 'Bartlet for America' and I'm a college drop out who got taken for medical tuition by a deadbeat boyfriend. So…just when I think he's going to show me the door he does something unexpected."
Blanche sat forward and stared at Donna. "What did he do? Oh, don't leave me on the edge of my seat, honey child."
"He took off his ID badge and gave it to me," Donna said. "Josh has a way of seeing things and thinking 10 steps ahead. Something in his mind lined up properly and he decided I would work out for him. Well, we've been together ever since."
"Oh, my," Blanche sighed and fanned herself. "That is the most adorable story I've every heard. He gave you his identity."
"He what?"
"His identity," Blanche repeated. "He wanted you to be a part of his life- - knew you were meant to be with him. That badge, sweetheart, was like an engagement ring. The two of you must still be head over heels in love."
"Well, we… what?!" Donna exclaimed. "Oh no! No, no, no."
"I don't understand. You just said…"
"I was talking about working," Donna clarified. "I'm his assistant. We work together. You mean, you thought…"
"Oh, well, don't I feel like I just fell off the turnip truck," Blanche said lowering her head. "You see, normally I can read people. It just looked like the two of you…and then your story… Oh, dear I didn't mean to embarass you."
"Oh no, Blanche," Donna reassured the woman. "I mean… It's not like… Well."
"I'm just relieved that his wife wasn't hear to witness me bein' a fool."
"Wife? Josh?" Donna laughed.
"So he isn't married?"
"Joshua Lyman is married to politics," Donna deftly nodded.
"And you, my dear?"
"No," Donna shook her head and looked at her hands.
"Did I touch a nerve there, sweetheart?" Blanched asked as she touched Donna's arm.
"No," Donna said. "Not at all. I mean, my siblings are married and a lot of my friends away from the office are, but that's okay. I just haven't found the right guy yet I guess."
"You will, honey," Blanche said with a wink. "You're still young. You've got plenty of time. The right gentleman caller might be under your nose, and you can't see it yet."
"The only thing on that's anywhere on my radar right now is…"
"DONNA!!"
Donna sighed in defeat and looked towards the doors, where a perturbed Josh and a eerily calm Toby emerged. "…Prince Charming."
"Good Luck, darlin', Blanche smiled.
"Oh for god's sake, Joshua," Donna rolled her eyes as he approached. "You don't need to shout."
"Would you have heard me if I hadn't?" he asked.
"He's from Connecticut," Donna said, by way of apology to Blanche, who in turn grinned her acceptance.
"I hope you little visit with the Governor was productive," Blanche said, smiling coquettishly at the two men.
"It was fine," Toby said. "Visiting with the Governor is always a fascinating experience."
"Are we finished?" Donna asked.
"Yeah, for now," Josh said.
"The Governor needed some quality time with his horseshoe pit," Toby said, keeping his face remarkably neutral. "We decided that tomorrow would be a good time to finish our... discussions."
"He's telling his tales of the Statehouse," Blanche surmised. "Oh, that makes him happy. Well, then, we'll be seeing you tomorrow. I look forward to it."
"Thank you, M'am," Josh said, then turned to Donna. "Now, what did you do with my sunglasses?"
Donna sighed forcefully then dipped her fingers into his breastpocket and drew out the missing shades.
"Right under your nose, dear," Blanche whispered softly into Donna's ear, leaving Donna to wonder which of them she was speaking to.
************
The parking lot at the convention center across from the hotel was streaming with people. Pickup trucks numbered in the hundreds and the 50th Annual Lexington Sportsman's Exposition drew thousands of people. The exposition was a gathering manufacturers of every conceivable type of hunting and sporting equipment one could imagine.
"It's a gun show," Donna observed, reading a glossy pamphlet tucked under the windshield wiper of their car as she, Toby and Josh left for dinner.
"It is the loop hole in just about every gun law I have..."
"We," Toby corrected him. "Every gun control measure WE have initiated in the last four years."
"I've been doing this more than four years," Josh said.
"The gun lobby hates me as much as they hate you," Toby pointed out. "I am beating you."
"Says you," Josh scoffed. "I haven't seen a recent tally, but I've got you beat by a furlong."
"In the field of ignorance, naturally," Toby said.
"What are you talking about?" Donna asked, ceasing the playground spat brewing between them.
"The letters," Toby said, but regretted it instantly.
The simultaneous looks on Josh and Donna's faces brought a pang on guilt into the speechwriter's stomach. They were very different expressions. Josh's pled for silence; apparently his other fan club was either not shared knowlege with his assistant or something he did not relish discussing with her. As for Donna's face, it was a mixture of confusion and fear. She was putting the pieces together from the conversation and not liking the sum of the information.
"You compete over... hate mail?" she ventured.
"We.... that is, it's a... not a competition," Toby remarked as Josh turned his head and became interested on the flow of traffic at the convention center. "It's one way to deal with irrational ideas. People with public jobs get many unfriendly pieces of correspondance. Some is from lunatics who think the grass in their yard is a spying device placed there by the UN and aliens in an effort to dominate the world. Others are from angry everyday people who are mad about taxes or their jobs."
"It's hate mail," Josh said flatly. "Don't dress it up or dilute it, Toby. Yes, Donna. A lot of people send hate mail. They sent threats sometimes, too. You know that."
"The mail room sorts all of that and sends it through security channels," she pointed out.
"The mail room doesn't pick up our personal mail," Toby said. "When we leave the office, we are technically like everyone else in this country. We don't enjoy any additional protections. They get our home addresses and our e-mail addresses."
"And you keep a tally?" she asked, looking at Josh, who refused to meet her eyes.
"Let's check it out," Josh said, rather than answer.
"I'm sorry?" Toby remarked, startled by the continuing dismay on Donna's face. "The redneck family picnic? Why?"
"Just curious," Josh shrugged. "We talk about these things and we push legislation about them, but I've never been to one--not a big one like this. Let's check it out."
"Go into the enemy camp?" Donna observed flatly.
"They're not the enemy," Josh said. "The organizations with money who we fight against are the enemy. These are the people they claim to represent. I want to see for myself if what they say is true."
Toby considered the idea for a moment. He was hungry and in no mood to mingle with the great unwashed, but what Josh suggested had some merit, and that annoyed him. What annoyed him more was that he had no ready, effective counter agrument. So, with a resigned sigh, Toby nodded and led the way to the convention center.
*****************
"The problem is..." Josh said, continuing in his explanation to Donna as she reached into her bag for her wallet.
They were standing in front of a clothing outfitter. On the table, Donna had spotted a fishing hat. She intended to buy it for her father; it reminded her of one he had when she was a child. It was too early for his birthday, but she would find some occaision to send it to him.
"That the three day waiting period gets circumvented at gunshow," she said, finishing his statement as she handed money to the salesman. "They sell all sorts of firearms and no one knows who is doing the buying. There are a lot of cash purchases so there is no reliable trail."
"Well, that's part of it," Josh said, his attention was being drawn elsewhere. "Where's Toby?"
"I don't know," she said, looking around at the swarming crowd. "The battery in his phone died when he was talking to Leo."
"I know," Josh said, still focused on something at the far end of the convention center floor. "He took mine."
"Josh?" Donna asked, concerned by his preoccupation in the distance and the growing noise in the room. It had gone from a simple bustle to a dull roar swiftly.
"It's time to go," he said quickly, grabbing her elbow.
"Not yet," she said, tugging herself back to the table. "I need my hat and my change."
"Donna, let's go," he said emphatically.
"Josh, you really to...," she started to say, needing to shout to be heard.
Just then the crowd suddenly rushed backward, like a wave, through the room. Donna was swept away on the tide. Her blood ran cold as she heard the distinct cracks of gunfire above the cacauphony of the room. She screamed for Josh--unable to see him--but her own voice was swallowed amid the screams and wails of others running for cover in all directions.
*****************
Leo McGarry stormed into the Communications Bullpen, barking a terse order at Ginger to find CJ. All were starting at the television sets on the walls showing the live feed from the chaos tearing through downtown Lexington. Police were marching, shoulder-to-shoulder in full riot gear, pushing the crowds back in an attempt to restore order. Sam kept an eye on the screens and his ear pressed to the phone as he listened in on a conference call with the Chief of Police and the Assistant Director of the local FBI Office.
"My office," Leo said gruffly. "Now."
Sam nodded, scribbling some final notes on his pad before hanging up the phone and moving quickly to the Chief of Staff's Office. Inside, CJ watched the TV and shook her head. It didn't matter how often she saw it, she never got used to moments like this.
"What do we know?" Leo asked, seated firmly behind his desk.
"Special Agent Carlos Rodriguez, of the Lexington field office..."
"Why are we talking to the FBI already?" Leo asked quickly. "Because of the gun show?"
"Partially," Sam replied. "Also because of the Klan."
"The Klan?" Leo repeated. "As in the KKK?"
"Yeah," CJ added. "KYAD, the CBS affliate, has footage of a little rally for recruitment purposes that was going on outside. Apparently, some teenagers got at little rowdy with them, some bottles were thrown that led to some bumper cars in the parking lot. Something got set fire and folks coming out of the convention center with firearms..."
"That's not confirmed," Sam cut in. "There are reports someone fired a shot, that is a single shot, over the heads of those involved in the scuffle."
"Scuffle?" CJ repeated. "Sam, there were three hundred people pushing and shoving on the asphalt."
"Not all of them were involved," he said. "Some were just caught at the wrong place as they tried to leave the exposition. Others were just... well, watching."
"It escalated?" Leo asked. "This thing went inside?"
"Witnesses are saying that after they heard the shots, they ran inside for cover," CJ reported. "It turned into a mad rush and then..."
"All hell broke loose inside," Leo surmised. "I got that much."
"We've got people there," CJ said. "Toby and Josh are staying across the street practically. Have they called in? I know they're concentrating on Thoreau, but surely that can't have missed this."
"They were in this," Sam said.
"I'm sorry," Leo responded.
"Toby called about an hour ago," Sam replied. "He and Josh and Donna were going to this thing. He said something about research. I don't know. I wasn't really listening. He had just faxed me some things that Thoreau mentioned that he wanted checked out. I was looking into them when Bonnie told me CNN was carrying the story."
"Have we heard from Toby?" Leo asked.
"No," Sam said.
There was a quick rap on Leo's door as Margaret poked her head into the room. She signaled to the phone and mouthed the word "Toby." Leo stabbed the blinking button.
"Toby," he barked. "Do you guys know how to have uneventful trips?.... Uh huh.... And where are your partners in crime?..... Right.... Did you get any.... Okay.... Okay.... Okay..... Check back in 15 minutes."
Leo sighed and rubbed his hand over his weary face. He looked at the clock. It was nearing 7 p.m. He had fleetingly hoped that he would make his dinner date with his daughter that night. It was supposed to be a slow day. He shook his head and silently admonished himself; slow days were usually the ones when the worst trouble started, he reminded himself before returning his focus to the anxious staffers in front of him.
"That was Toby," Leo began.
*****************
Charlie closed the door to the Oval Office as the President peppered Leo with questions. He had been in the dining room having a rare peaceful dinner with Mrs. Barlet when Charlie was told to inform him of the events in Kentucky. Though Charlie was also told to inform the President that there was no need to rush to the office, he did it all the same.
"Well?" Bartlet said anxiously as his slew of questions drew to a halt.
"Yeah," Leo nodded. "I can't answer most of those. It's a riot, sir. They don't tend to give you an itinerary. Toby is checking in again any minute now. He had just arrived at the hospital the last time we spoke."
"But he had information that one or both of them were brought there?" Bartlet asked.
"He got it from a cop," Leo said. "Their names were on a list. There was no information other than that."
"How did they get..."
"They knew Josh worked for the White House," Leo informed him. "How, I don't know. He might have told them; Donna might have..."
"Someone might have had to take ID off their bodies to identify them," Bartlet fumed.
"A remote possibilty," Leo offered. "We're getting information as fast as we can. Things are a little nuts down there right now. The riot still isn't contained."
"Why not?"
"Chaos, Mr. President," Leo sighed. "You remember chaos, right? There are about two hundred walking wounded streaming into the ER and half as many sirens and police and firemen calming things down at the scene."
"But you talked to Toby," Bartlet said. "He's all right?"
"He's pretty angry I sent him to Lexington, but other wise he's fine," Leo said. "He had left the convention center before this started so he could call Sam. He watched it from across the street. He went looking for the others and finally found this cop who directed him to the hospital. That's where he is now. We should have something soon."
*****************
"What do you mean when you say together?" Sam asked.
He was in his office. He was speaking to Toby on the speakerphone. Toby was in the main lobby of the hospital feeling exceedingly useless and ignored.
"Now is not the time for this, Sam," he growled. "I could find a way to blame this whole thing on you. Don't think I'm not trying."
"I just meant..."
"I don't care what you meant," Toby snapped. "I need some intervention."
Leo entered the room with a stern expression. Sam informed him Toby was on the line and at the hospital.
"That was a long 15 minutes," Leo admonished him.
"Everything is slower here in Kentucky," Toby replied. "I don't have much to tell you. He's here. He's the patient, and he was in some room some place but not a place I could go. Why? Well, because I am not family and I did not accompany him. So, unless I can convince them that I am his wife, we're going to have to wait until I locate an adminstrator or a compassionate nurse."
"You're the White House Communications Director," Sam told him unnecessarily.
"Strangely, that doesn't mean much here," Toby said. "Leo, get someone to call someone."
"We're working on it," Leo said. "Other than being unappreciated and ignored, how are you doing?"
"I'm happy and peppy and bursting with love," Toby said.
*****************
"You have a mild concussion," the physician's assistant told Josh as he swabbed the inch-long cut just above his left temple.
"I don't feel concussed," Josh replied.
"Do you feel lacerated?"
"No, but then again, you stuck that huge needle in me so I don't think I'm suppose to feel it," he surmized.
"Well, there's nothing wrong with your mouth," the PA. smirked.
"That a matter of opinion," Donna said, standing beside the bed, waiting for the sewing to be finished.
She was physically unscathed though she was still shaking. It amazed her at how calm Josh was in the chaos they had feld. She thought back to the moment when she was nearly drown in the tide of people. The man, a mountainous creature with a grizzly beard and tatoos snaking up his arms, latching onto her and growling lewdly in her ear above the roar of the room. She was going with him, he insisted, for her safety. Maybe he meant well, she thought. But the wild and dark look in his eyes told her differently. She shouted, the first word that came to her mind, screamed it in fact: Josh!
He claimed he never heard her, but when the crowd rushed forward, he had not lost sight of her. How precisely Donna wriggled free of her new suiter and ended up under Josh's arm, she did not recall. It happened so quickly. The hail of flying bottles and other objects rained down on them. They were through a fire exit on the near side of the building before Donna noticed the blood on the side of Josh's face. He insisted he was fine and showed no signs of not being so--outside the oozing gash. She insisted he see a doctor and without much resistance he agreed.
"Will he be alright?" Donna asked, pushing the memories of the evening away.
"He's extremely lucid," the PA reported unnecessarily then looked had at Josh. "What's your name?"
"Josh," he anwered.
"What year is it?"
"Year of the Rat, maybe," Josh replied with a shrug.
"Right," the PA replied, unimpressed. "Where are you from?"
"They didn't cover that in medical classes or at the bus stop?"
"Are you always like this?" the PA asked.
"No," Donna replied knowingly. "Sometimes he's annoying."
"I see," the PA said and began sewing the cut. "I take it he doesn't have any neurological impairments?"
"He has an ego larger than Mount Rushmore, if that counts," Donna offered.
"Any medications?"
"No," she sighed. She had given this information to the nurse earlier and was disturbed that the person tending to Josh had apparently not bothered to read the chart with the brief medical history.
"Recent surgeries or illnesses?"
"Two years ago he had a ruptured pulmonary artery," she said in a bored tone, mostly to see if the man was even listening.
"I see," he said then stopped abruptly. "A what?"
"He was shot in the chest almost two years ago," Donna said.
"Don't worry about it," Josh cut in. "I got better."
*****************
The doctor, summoned by the PA, looked over the chart and gave the PA a disgusted look. His time was better spent on real medical cases, the doctor determined. That the PA had panicked at the mention of a tramatic proceedure in the patient's past was yet another sign the medical community needed revamping, the doctor thought. The only thing interesting about the case was where the patient worked.
"I saw you in US News recently," the doctor said, checking Josh's pulse as he surveyed the stitches before turning his attention to Donna. "You say it was a bottle that did this?"
"I think so," she said. "There was a lot things flying around, mostly bottles."
"That's good then," the doctor replied.
"Good?" Josh gasped. "It hurt like hell."
"Be quiet, Joshua," Donna scolded him.
"Anything harder or heavier might have had a greater impact," the doctor continued. "As it looks now, I don't think we need to do a CAT Scan."
"I hate cats," Josh added.
"Not that kind of cat," Donna told him and offered a concerned look. He might not be seriously injured, but as the minutes ticked by, she could tell Josh was not acting like his normal self. "When will you release him?"
"As soon as we get the forms ready for you to sign," the doctor replied. "I'm guessing that since he works for the President we won't have an insurance battle to do this."
"We could," Josh offered. "They're bastards to pretty much anyone."
"Josh, please," Donna said and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Thank you so much, Doctor."
"It's what they pay me for," the physician replied then signaled Donna to step away from the bed with him for a moment.
She did so with a quizzical expression. Josh made no move to object or comment. Donna folded her arms and inclined her head toward the doctor to hear what he had to say.
"I don't want you to be concerned," the doctor said. "This is a minor concussion. I can see you're a bit anxious; he's probably not acting quite like himself. That's normal. If he gets progressively worse or starts vomitting, you'll need to bring him back here, but I don't think that will happen. We'll give you some information with the discharge papers about concussions. You'll need to watch him for the next 24 hours or so. He's going to be a little out of it for a while, Mrs. Lyman."
"Well that's under...," Donna began then paused. "I'm sorry. What did you call me?"
"Nothing," he said guardedly. "I just said Mrs. Lyman."
"Oh," Donna blushed then started to babble in her nerovusness and weariness. "I'm not his wife. I'm his assistant. Which is kind of like his wife, except I get paid and don't live with him, though I practically do considering all the time we spend together at the office because he's such a workaholic and compulsively demanding of my time. I mean, I'm the only one who can handle him and make sure that he takes care of himself, which in this case he certainly can't because he's got a concussion and..."
"My mistake," the doctor said quickly cutting her off. "I was told you were his wife. I meant no disrespect. Are you willing to take responsiblity for him? He shouldn't be left alone. There can be complications with even mild head injuries. Or is there someone else we should call?"
Donna agreed to take the responsibilty and brushed off the doctor's embarassment. She rambled on some more about people who work together and images. She did so for several seconds until the doctor took out his pen light and checked her pupils--curious as to whether she was also suffering from a head injury. Satisfied she was not, he returned to Josh who was fighting to keep his eyes open.
"Mr. Lyman, they will be bringing in some forms for you to sign shortly," the doctor explained. "Your assistant has agreed to see you safely back to your hotel and watch over you for the evening. I'm sorry, what is your name?"
"Donna Moss," she replied.
"Do you mind?" the doctor asked returning his attention to Josh.
"That's Donna," Josh answered. "Do I mind Donna? Not usually. I mean, she has her moments, but generally speaking...."
"Good enough," the doctor sighed. "Good patients get lollipops."
"Milicent tries that and it doesn't impress me," Josh said.
"Milicent?" the doctor asked.
"The Surgeon General," Donna explained.
"She likes my scar," Josh nodded. "Donna doesn't like it. You don't like the scars, do you, Donna?"
"Not particularly, no."
"Women," Josh shrugged. "You can never please them."
*****************
Toby met them at the front desk and reserved any comments about Josh and his brilliant idea. He looked like Hell, in Toby's estimation. This was tempered, of course, by the memory that Toby had seen him look worse. It was the blood on the front of Josh's shirt that gave Toby more chills than the hatch marks where the stitches were.
The made there way slowly through the crowd streaming into the lobby. Things were calm in the city again. A curfew was being imposed. Tob led the way to the parking garage where he had stashed their rental car. He called Leo with his final report of the night--informing he and the President that they were all fine. He also made plans to appear on the Today show the next morning to talk about the gunshow and what had happened. There were points to be made and some leverage to be had with Congress, Toby knew. This night of chaos would pay off somewhat. Finished with the phone, he waited, the car idling, as Donna helped Josh navigate to the vehicle. She sat in the back with him where he sat dazed. Toby watched them in the rear view mirror for a moment then tore his gaze away.
*****************
8:02 p.m.
Parking Garage, Lexington, KY
I think I'll forgive him--for what he put me through tonight, two years ago as well. I didn't need to do this again. Her face. I'm not sure why, but her face that night. That's the one thing that hasn't faded in my memory. Other details get hazy. Not that. Nor his face, either. Finding him; telling her. Worst night of my life. I couldn't go through a night like that again. Thankfully, I didn't have to.
But now I feel something else.
It's envy. Envy and a different kind of anger.
She worships the quicksand he walks on. He's barely aware of it--if at all. Not that I'm jealous. I'm not. I said evny before, envy. Andi would get that look once in a while, early on, when I had a good... No, a great, an extraordinary and exceptional idea.
You could glow for a lifetime in a look like that. And what did he do to get it? He stumbled across the garage and sat down. In other words: NOTHING. He did precisely nothing. It's just that he's here; he's anywhere.
Sam's right. I hate to say it, but he is. And you know how that makes me crazy.
But he's right about one thing: there is a current here.
I don't see the inherent danger in it. I can see vast areas of grayness that can lead to impropriety, or the appearance of impropriety. That would be bad for business, and we do not need that. Internal scandals we do not need, but I'm not concerned.
So, I'm angry. Not with Josh. Not Donna. Not even with Sam--I'm not happy with him, but that's sort of a hobby for me.
No, I'm angry with whoever decided that we can't be human; we can't live our lives. We have to be untouchable, someone else's definition of perfect, autonimous and entirely un-human.
*****************
"All right," Donna said, ushering Josh into his hotel room. "Last stop."
"Where are we going now?"
"Your room," she said shutting the door.
"This isn't my apartment," he said. "We aren't even in DC."
"I know that," she sighed. "I meant your hotel room."
"Good thinking," he nodded. "Room's paid for. Makes no sense to sleep in the hall."
Donna steered him across the room and to the bed. She folded back the covers.
"Okay," she said, gesturing for him to sit. "Get into bed."
"You know any other night I'd be all for it, but really, Donna," he grinned then draped his arms over her shoulders. "You got bad timiing. I've had a rough evening.... Haven't I?"
"Josh please," she smirked and rolled her eyes as she pushed him down to sit on the bed then removed his jacket. "That's not what I meant."
"My head hurts," he whinned unnecessarily.
"No kidding," she said, untying his shoes. "You have a nasty gash and a nice bump. You will have a black eye by tomorrow. Republicans everywhere will search for the person responsible to pay him for his trouble."
"That doesn't sound like quite enough sympathy," he said as she took off his shoes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she said quickly then fused with the pillows for a moment as she tried to stop thinking about the evening. Her hands were trembling again.
"Are you mad at me?"
"What?" she said, stopping her busy work and looking into his sleep clouded eyes. "No, not at all."
"'Cause you're acting like you do when you're mad at me," he said.
"I'm not mad at you," she said. "On the contrary, I'm thankful that you were there for me today."
"I was quite something," Josh replied with a nod, that he instantly regretted. "What did I do again?"
"You saved me from Bubba Bo Bob," Donna said.
"Wrecked another one of your dates," he smirked then studied his hands for a moment. "That was a real gomer. A fate worse than death no doubt. How did I get teeth marks on my hand?"
"Where?" she asked, taking his palm in hers and looking at the marks. "Those aren't teeth marks, Josh. Those are from my fingernails. When you... When we navigated through the.... crowd, I was holding onto your hand. I scratched you a bit, I guess. I'm sorry."
"I wasn't going to let you go," he said. "You're safe with me. Hey, I need to call Leo."
"Toby did that already," Donna explained. "Leo wants you to take it easy. Actually, the First Lady wants you to and I think Leo is too smart to disagree with her."
"You mean too afraid," Josh grinned.
"I don't think Leo is afraid of anything," Donna said. "Except maybe you with a concussion. Come on, you need some rest. Now, I'm going to wake you up in a little while and ask you some questions."
"A pop quiz?"
"Something like that," Donna continued as she began loosening his tie.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking off your tie."
"Do I get to take something off you?"
"What?" she exclaimed and let go of the tie as he grinned mischeviously. "Josh."
"Didn't know if this was quid pro quo," he said. "You do something for me, I do something for you."
"Yeah, that's the concussion talking so I'm not going to hurt you--this time," she warned. "Get under the covers, Josh. And before you say anything you'll regret, I mean alone."
"You really are no fun," he said as he lay back and closed his eyes.
"What's your name?" she asked suddenly, causing him to open his eyes.
"What? Now?"
"I want a starting point to see what I'm dealing with," she argued. "Name?"
"Cassanova," he smirked. "What's yours, sweetie?"
"Try again."
"Oh, come on, Donna," Josh sighed. "Lighten up. You are no fun. Fine. Josh."
"Josh what?"
"Depends on which Party you're a member of and what day of the week it is....," he trailed off.
"Who's thePresident of the United States?"
"For the moment, Josiah Bartlet," Josh said with palpable angst that Donna chose to ignore.
"Where do you live?"
"In hotels with the rest of the travelling carnival sideshow," he said.
"Josh."
"Generally speaking, I divide my time between the West Wing of the White House, Capital Hill and my apartment, all fortunately located in Washington, DC," he sighed.
"Good," she smiled. "And finally, who am I?"
"My Donna," he smiled and closed his eyes. "I mean, Donna. My assistant."
******************
Morning arrived. Josh moaned and whined. This was worse than any hangover. It was worse than being shot, he reasoned, because at least then he had an ample supply of heavy-duty painkillers that made the first few days fade into oblivion. Staring in the mirror over the sink, he surveyed the damage: a shiner like the kind earned in a playground brawl and the stitches reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster. He was extra careful as he shaved that morning.
"You're not going," Donna said firmly on the other side of the door for the fifth time.
She had spent the night in the room, sitting in the chair, watching him and waking him at intervals. Josh was exhausted due to the interupted sleep, but he felt that was nothing compared to what Donna must feel. He suspected she didn't sleep at all. It wouldn't surprise him. She had sat vigil for him before; he hoped this time she knew there was absolutely no logical reason to do so.
"I can do what I want," he said as he returned to the room then stopped dead in his tracks. "You made the bed?"
"I had nothing better to do," she said, sitting aloof in the chair beside the window.
"They have a staff they pay to do that," Josh replied as he sat on the bed again and flipped on the TV.
"I'll bet they don't get paid what they are worth," she added. "I'm just showing solidarity with them."
"I'm sorry," Josh said, turning to face her. "I wasn't listening."
The phone rang before she could respond. Josh reached for it, despite Donna's dagger glare that ordered him to freeze. From her intense gaze, Josh felt safer with the mystery caller. A witness if I need one, he thought with a mischevious grin.
"Josh!" Toby shouted instantly after Josh answered, sending a new throbbing through Josh's temples.
"Why are you shouting?" Josh asked.
"I'm not," Toby shouted. " I mean... I'm not. They're doing some construction here at the station. They've... well, they just stopped now. Did you call Leo?"
"Donna wouldn't let me," he replied.
"Hold on," Toby said. "I gotta go some place else. They're going to start hammering again. Don't hang up. Just stay on the line."
Josh craddled the phone in between the crook of his shoulder and his ear as he lay back on the bed. Donna took the rmote from him and changed the station--making sure to keep the volume low. She sat on the edge of the bed as she did so, keeping her back to Josh.
"Donna."
She did not move.
"Donna!"
Again, she refused to acknowleged him.
"DONNATELLA MOSS!"
"Oh for the love of God, Joshua," she snapped as she finally turned to glare at him again. "What do you want? Just ask your question. I'm right here."
"I know," he said casually. "That's why I called to you."
"You didn't call," she argued. "You yelled."
"I called," he insisted. "You you know what I've noticed."
"You've noticed something? Josh, that's wonderful."
"I mean it," he said seriously.
"What?"
"I've noticed something," he repeated.
"So you said," Donna replied. "Are you going to elaborate or am I supposed to read you mind?"
"You're very sensitive to noise," Josh proclaimed. "I think you may have some issues."
"Issues?" she gasped.
"Yes."
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"I do not have issues," Donna contend. "I have manners."
Josh shook his head and gave her his best disbelieving expression.
"Manners are not talking with your mouth full or not interupting people when they speak," he explained.
"I don't do either of those," she informed him primly.
"But that's not the same."
"Same as what?"
"As having issues with with people's voices," Josh continued.
"I don't have issues with people's voices."
"Did you get yelled at a lot as a child?" Josh asked.
"No," she replied with a scoff. "I did not. Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"This," Donna said, waving her hands at the air between them. "Telling me I have issues. Not taking no for an answer. Questioning everything I say."
"Annoying, isn't it?"
"Very," she said, returning her attention to the TV.
"It's payback," Josh said with a nod.
"For what?" she whipped around to look at him in exasperation again.
"For all the times you've done it to me."
"I've never done this to you," she said with a stern expression. "I point out flaws or inconsistencies in your behavior."
"Yes," Josh agreed. "Why do you do that? Inner insecurity of your own?"
"I'm not insecure," she scoffed.
"That sounds like denial."
"Okay, that's enough," Donna said, holding up her hand to halt him.
"Is this another issue?"
"Stop talking to me," she said, folding her arms and turning her back to him.
"You know, I read somewhere that talking is the best way to deal with your issues," Josh said, fighting a smirk valiantly.
"If anyone in this room has issues, it's you," Donna replied.
"I'm sensing displacement and perhaps even some projection," Josh mused. "Maybe we should talk about this."
"You're mocking yourself more than me," Donna said. "You've had too much therapy."
"Wow," he observed. "Now, you're displaying jealousy. My, my, we are just finding loads of stuff in your closet aren't we?"
"Josh, stop it!" Donna said, unable to keep a serious and annoyed look on her face. "Okay, I get the point. You're bored. Just let me just say one thing without you questioning me: You're the one with issues."
"I don't have issues," he said easily. "I'm complex."
"SPARE ME!" Toby shouted into the phone having listened to the conversation.
He had reached his own conclusions about them. They needed to sleep together or never see each other again, Toby decided.
"FORGET THIS," he barked as he looked at his watch. "I GOTTA GO BE COMPASSIONATE ON TV!"
He hung up with a loud click that Donna heard as clearly as she had his words.
"Well, that was rude," Donna observed, slidding back to sit beside Josh on the bed as they tuned into the show where Toby was to appear shortly.
"Yeah," Josh agreed, accepting the remote from her to adjust the volume. "Think he has some issues?"
"Big time," Donna nodded.
************
Up Next
Chapter
18:The Drop Off