A/N: Sometimes things happen that we can't foresee or control. Something just came over me and I lost the urge for the longest time to write anything. The writing bug is just now beginning to return and, thus, this chapter is probably not one of my best. It's going to take time to get back into the rhythm of the show again, but I hope that you'll stick with me. So, for old time's sake, I'll say it: I don't own any of these characters. Judging from the absence of the show from the lineup recently, I'd say NBC probably doesn't own them anymore either. Fools.
MR GALLO GOES TO WASHINGTON
Based on characters created by Steven Levitan
The fact that the studio was referred to by the station as 1A led one to believe that there were more, but it was, in fact, only a number and letter. The station where the debate was being held had no other studio and as Jack, Dennis and Elliot stood back, the hands raced to remove the five o'clock news sets to prepare for the debate, scheduled to begin at six after a rerun of 'Friends'.
Jack was nervous, Dennis could tell. He was bursting with nervous energy, pacing and rubbing his hands.
"Jack," Elliot was saying, "Will you calm down, please?"
"Here, Jack," Dennis said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a blue pill, "Take this."
"What is it?" Jack asked, taking it in his thumb and forefinger and studying it.
"Just something to take the edge off." Jack gave him a questioning look, to which Dennis responded, "No, it isn't Nina's."
"Oh, well, in that case." Jack went off to find a drink of water.
"You'd think the man had never been on television before," Elliot observed as Jack left.
"Well, you'd be nervous too if the last time you were on television you were punching a television legend."
Suddenly, 'Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?' began to play from Dennis' pocket.
"What's that?" Elliot asked, looking around.
"Just a minute." Reaching into his pocket, Dennis extracted his cell phone, then ran a hand through his hair and put a laid back look on his face.
"You're on the line with the Finch."
"Dennis, it's Maya."
"Oh," Dennis straightened up, "Hi, Maya."
"Is my dad around? I can't get him on his cell phone."
"It's probably off. You know, getting into the zone."
There was a pause before she answered, "He's scared stiff, isn't he?"
"Petrified."
"Oh, dear. Well, I'll be there in a little while. I just have the finishing touches to make on the interview. Just make sure he doesn't stuff himself with donuts like he usually does when he gets nervous."
"Yeah, I'll watch out for him." Dennis glanced quickly at Elliot, who was hitting on a cute blonde intern who'd been assigned to Jack by the station and not paying any attention.
"Hey, Maya, do you mind if we just pick up something for dinner and take it home? It's been a long day and I'm kind of tired."
"Oh, sure, Dennis. I don't require you to cook every night, you know. Maybe Chinese?"
"Sounds good. I'll see you in a little bit, then."
"OK."
Dennis hung up the phone and tapped it against his lips. Suddenly he smiled. Dennis Finch, he chastised himself, if that wasn't the most domestic conversation you've ever had with a woman.
Suddenly, he jerked his head around.
"Drop it, Gallo!"
Like a child caught with his hand in a cookie jar, Jack slowly sat the long john back down on the catering table.
At Blush, Maya held the phone in her hand a moment before hanging it up and smiling. Returning to her story, she completed her final thought and activated the spell check to do one final run-through on it before saving it to a disk for submission. The subject might not have been one of her best, but she did the best she could and decided to herself it wasn't all that bad.
With a tune, the computer informed her that the spell check was completed and, finding no errors, she saved it to a disk. Ejecting the disk and labeling it, she placed it into her desk drawer and stood up to get her coat. It was getting late and she wanted to speak to her dad at least once more before the debate began, to offer her moral support and maybe slip a couple of note cards into his coat pocket with a few points to maybe throw in. She'd printed them out on the printer at Dennis' apartment, part of a setup that far outdistanced hers at her apartment.
As she slipped on her coat, she wondered what made her stay there, but answered her question just as quickly. Comfort was why. She was comfortable there with those cats and his dorky pajamas and slippers and...and...well, with him.
Buttoning her coat, she turned to leave when her phone rang. She decided to let the voicemail take it and left. She was late, after all.
In the empty office, the voicemail picked up.
"Hello, this is Maya Gallo. I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you."
After the tone, a male voice came on.
"Ms. Gallo, this is Kyle Rodriguez with the New York Times..."
The set had changed quickly and was now ready. The backdrop was a large black curtain in front of which hung an American flag. There were two podiums, behind which the candidates would stand, each equipt with a water pitcher and glass hidden behind them.
Off stage right, Jack had calmed down, much to the gathered supporters relief.
"Dad," Maya insisted, "Take the cards."
"Maya, thank you but I don't need any help."
"Jack," Elliot moaned, "Just take the damn cards so she'll be quiet...OW!"
"Look," Jack turned to them, "Will you two knock it off? You sound like children."
"Well, she stomped on my foot!"
"Oh, yeah? Well, you're just a big freak."
"Am not."
"Are too."
"Dennis, please?" Jack asked.
"Oh, no. You separate them, they're your staff."
The moderator, a small, gray haired man in a black suit, took center stage as the red light came on. The show was on.
"Good evening, New York. This is James Greaves and welcome to this debate between Democratic Congressman Calvin Berkeley and his Republican challenger, publisher Jack Gallo. Please join me in welcoming the candidates at this time."
The small audience applauded as the two candidates crossed to center stage and shook hands for the first time. Each had a forced smile on their face.
"I'm going to bury you alive, Gallo," Berkeley said through clenched teeth.
"You're going to try, Berkeley," Jack answered through clenched teeth of his own, suddenly confident and ready to go. The nervousness, the anxiety was gone now that the time was at hand. The ol' Gallo magic was working, he told himself as he moved behind his podium. He almost felt sorry for Cal Berkeley.
Almost.