A/N: Well, it's been a while, with me being busy looking for a job, the holidays, fighting with my family, etc, etc...but here it is, the newest in the series. I hope you enjoy it. I do have an odd question to ask you. For a while now, I've had a story languishing over in the Kolchak: the Night Stalker section in which the main character there, the Carl Kolchak that I mentioned in a previous entry, interacts with the cast of Just Shoot Me. It's by no means a comedy, but I am considering moving it over to this side of the world. Would you be at all interested in seeing it here? When you review, if you'd like, please let me know what you think about my doing that. I promise I will do no such thing if you wish it to be so. Now, on with the show. Oh, and by the way, if you don't know by now I don't own any of these characters, you just aren't paying attention.
MR GALLO GOES TO WASHINGTON
Based on characters created by Steven Levitan
Jack Gallo was nervous. He sat at the head of the table and adjusted the stack of papers before him for either the sixth time (by Dennis' count) or the seventh (Maya's). As the executive staff watched, Jack tapped the papers on their sides with the palms of his hands, picked them up and tamped them on the table before him, checked them for evenness, sat them before him, then repeated the process.
At Jack's left elbow, Maya caught Dennis' gaze and gave him a questioning look. Dennis returned the look with a slight shrug as the cycle repeated itself for either the seventh or eighth time.
"Uh, Dad?"
"Yes, dear?" Jack answered, still fully concentrating on the papers.
"Are you all right?"
"Of course, pumpkin. Why do you ask?"
He finished his ritual, then went to start again before Dennis grabbed the papers and flung them over his shoulder towards the open door of Jack's office, where they fluttered to the floor like a ticker-tape parade.
"Just wondering," Dennis told him, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes.
"A little nervous about tonight, Jack?" Elliot asked, "The big debate."
"No, of course not. I've done television before, it's a simple thing."
"Maybe it's because you have been in this campaign for over a month and you still have yet to establish a position on anything of substance."
"That's not true, Maya," Jack disagreed.
For a moment, Maya was confused. "Then you do have a position on something."
"No, no, it's just that that's not the problem."
"Wait a minute," Elliot suddenly said, "This isn't about that Miss America thing again, is it?"
"No, and to this day I swear that Regis deserved it!"
"Oh, Jack," Nina spoke up, "Don't worry, being nervous in front of the television camera is a natural thing. Just handle it the way I do..."
"Two valium and enough cheap booze to float an aircraft carrier?" Dennis suggested.
"No. Troll. Just imagine yourself in a nice, quiet place. Free of stress, free of worry..."
"You know," Maya agreed, "That is a very good idea..."
"...And I'm naked," Nina finished.
"OK, now it's a bad idea," Elliot corrected her.
"Oh, don't worry about me," Jack finally said, standing up and returning to his office, "I'll do fine. I fear nothing, for I am in the right."
"Shakespeare?" Nina asked.
"Abbott and Costello," Dennis answered, "Jack and the Beanstalk was on last night. One of his favorites."
"Oh, yeah, I remember that one," Elliot chimed in.
"I can't believe you all!" Maya slammed her hands on the table and jumped to her feet, "Dad's about to go and television and make a fool of himself and none of you care?"
"Oh, we care, Maya," Nina assured her, "But we're all just glad it's not one of us."
Elliot and Dennis nodded in agreement, which brought an exasperated sigh from Maya, who stomped back to her office.
Across town, in the back offices of the Re-elect Berkeley Campaign headquarters, three men sat in silence watching a fourth pace back and forth, holding in his hands a baseball bat, a gift signed by Dave Winfield.
"It's been a month now," Berkeley, the man pacing with the bat, was saying, "A month, and instead of falling behind, that idiot Jack Gallo is actually catching up."
"Well, Cal," Stewie argued, seated behind a desk, "Let's face it, it was the only direction he could go. He couldn't have possibly fallen any farther behind."
In a back corner, a bulbous shadow coughed and sat forward. Sidney Kaspar, Cal Berkeley's campaign manager since his first successful campaign, was considered a master in his craft. The nearly three hundred sixty pound man had never been involved in a losing campaign.
"I think that perhaps we have underestimated Mister Gallo," he observed.
Berkeley paused and looked over at Kaspar as if he'd told him to strip naked and run through the Stock Exchange. "Underestimated Jack Gallo? How?"
"It is my own fault, I am sorry to say. I did not remember one simple rule, and that is, an amateur does not know the rules."
Berkeley whipped his head around to Stewie and gave him a 'huh' expression. Sensing this, Kaspar hastened to explain.
"You see, dear boy, it is a rule that every man who competes in public office must lose his first campaign to learn how to win the second. Just as a young child must burn his fingers to learn that the stove is hot.
"So it is with politics. Mister Gallo, being an amateur and, let us be honest, not all that serious about politics beyond it being a vessel for his ego, does not care whether the stove, shall we say, is hot or not."
"I think I get it," Stewie finally said, "It's like fighting a crazy guy. You're gettin' in the ring with a guy who don't care if he gets hurt or not."
"You're getting as crazy as that one," Berkeley snapped at Stewie.
"Nah, man, just listen. Y'see, he ain't intimidated by ya because he don't care whether he gets elected or not, he's got his. Like the fat guy says..."
"I beg your pardon," Kaspar protested.
"...It's our fault. We haven't been campaignin' to win, we've been campaignin' not to lose. Y'get it?"
"Perhaps you're right," Berkeley agreed slowly, "Maybe it is about time we get down in the trenches. Stewie, find out anything you can on Jack Gallo. Ex wives, lovers, friends, employees, anyone who's got a grudge or thinks he's got one. Then when you're done, get hold of some dirt on his daughter."
Stewie looked at Cal. "Maya Gallo? Why? What for?"
"If we can't destroy Jack Gallo head on, maybe we can destroy him through her."
Dennis knocked on the doorjamb of Maya's office.
"Can I come in?"
Maya sat facing the window. "Sure, Finch."
Dennis closed the door behind him and stood with his back against it, studying the back of her chair.
"Look, I'm sorry if you think we went a little too far out there, but Jack brought this on himself. He is the one who challenged Berkeley to the debate in the first place."
"I know."
"Now you know we'll help him as much as we can, just like, despite your disagreement with him on just about everything he stands for and ever stood for, you're going to help him just as much as you can."
Now Maya spun around and faced him. "He's a good man, Dennis. I know I don't like a lot of the things he did, or still does, but my father is, deep down, a decent man who I think would make an excellent congressman. I just wish he'd thought things out better."
"Well, if he had thought it through, we'd all be worried. We'd think he was sick or something."
Maya smiled in spite of herself and, as he always did, Dennis melted inside.
"Now that I've got you in a good mood, how about we go home and take a nice relaxing shower?"
"Get out of here, Dennis."
Shrugging, Dennis blew her a kiss as he opened the door and returned to his desk. It had been a week since Maya had rushed into his apartment, and she had yet to leave. She hadn't said she wanted to go and Dennis hadn't asked her to. No one at Blush knew yet, as far as Dennis knew, because he was sure he'd hear the inevitable talk that they were sleeping together if they did know. They weren't, and in fact the though of sex hadn't yet entered Dennis' mind. She needed a friend right now, and if more came of it later, then so be it.
'You're living with a beautiful, busty brunette and all you can think about is making her happy,' he thought to himself as he began to compose a letter, 'You're either sick or in love.'
He looked up and watched her talk on the telephone. She looked up as well, saw him and smiled in his direction.
"Face it, Finch" he muttered to himself, "It's love. Deal with it."
A/N: Well, what dirt can the Berkeley 'Department of Dirty Tricks' come up with to thwart our clueless hero and his competent but perhaps in over their heads staff? Is it possible there's a piece of dirt on Jack that hasn't been revealed? Why pick on Maya? Can anyone stop the Congressman and his cronies? And does anyone besides me remember Nina mentioning something about a television spot? Tune in next time, dear readers...