Part 3 'Hey All You Cats and Kittens This Is Josh Lyman Comin' At Ya.'

I wouldn't admit it to any of them, but I am a bit nervous; petrified even. This is, after all, my first major bit of coverage since the shooting. And that's kind of surprising to me. I mean, a man in my field as high on the totem as I am; you'd think he'd be in the news more often. All the better, I guess. Seeing as how no press is better than bad press.

But this is good press. This is very good press.

I've just arrived at the location of the photo shoot and am kind of uncomfortable not having Donna here with me. She will be later, of course, but she insisted that she go to church first. Not that I've ever seen Donna go, but I guess it's good that she feels the need to pray for my soul over this.

There are a few guys setting up lights around a blue drop and two people, one a guy and the other a girl, fiddling with cameras. I'm busy watching them when someone addresses me.

"Mister Lyman?" I turn to a – HELL-O!

Sorry. That one calling my attention is a drop-dead redhead clad in a green button-down blouse and black skirt.

"Mister Lyman."

"Josh," I correct her.

"Josh. I'm glad you could make it out today." If I didn't know any better, I'd think she blushed when she said my name. "Well, I'm Staci George." We shake hands. "I'll be conducting the interview." I must have an inquisitive face on because she jumps to an explanation. "Mister Raymond gave me the assignment. He's the head editor. A few of us lucky writers get to work on the interviews."

"When you say 'lucky', you use that term loosely?" She smiles at me and gestures to follow her.

"Today's just about the photo shoot. I just wanted to introduce myself to you. The interviews are going to take at least a week due to your busy schedule. Do you have any questions?"

"I'm going to need your name and credentials." I must have sounded a lot ruder than I intended because she looks at me perplexed and shocked. "It's just procedural. For you to enter the White House and get access t restricted areas, you have to be vetted first."

"Why would I have access to the White House?" She must have realized it as soon as she voiced it because she blushed again and held up a hand to me. "You have a busy schedule." I smile back at her. She is adorable. I watch as she takes out a business card from a bag sitting near by and hands it to me. "If there's anything else, the number is my direct line in the offices."

"Thank you."

"Thank you." She smiles at me and it makes me do the same back. I can't help but watch as she lifts that bag back over her shoulder and turns to walk away. I'm so bewitched I don't pull my gaze from her direction until a techie directs me to make-up.

I'm bewitched.

"Donna, she's gorgeous. She's beyond gorgeous. She's breath-taking." I see her rolling her eyes as she flips through a file.

"I get it Josh. She's a looker. Now can we please get back to the homeowner's bill?" I heard her say it but I wasn't paying attention. "Thirty percent—"

"She blushed too."

"What?"

"When I told her to call me Josh, she blushed." Again she rolls them, this time not trying to hide her actions so much.

"Thirty percent of homeowners who file taxes--"

"I should ask her out." I look over at the sound of her shoving the file onto her lap forcefully.

"What?"

"I should ask her out. But what should I use as the excuse?" I don't see it coming and Donna hits me with a pen.

"Focus, Josh! Focus on what I'm saying. You can dwell on the glorious grace that is Staci when she does her interview—"

"That's it. I'll use the interview." I ungracefully yank my cell phone from my pocket and search my chest for her business card. After a few pats, I realize the clothes I'm wearing aren't necessarily mine. That's when I look up at Donna again. She's got the card held up in her hand, swaying the index card to and fro. When I reach for it, she pulls it back away from me. I give her a stern look.

"Two reasons I can't let you call her yet."

"Which are?" I'm not in the mood to play with her over this.

"You're in the middle of a photo shoot."

"So?"

"She also hasn't been vetted yet."

"You really think she's a convicted felon or raving lunatic that's been committed for a year?" My voice has risen in decibels over the ludicrously in the thought.

"You don't know, Josh! And until you get her information, it's not a good idea to bring her into your personal circle." I lean forward and yank the card from her hand. I give her a stern look as I dial the numbers. She just rolls her head back and begins to reorganize the papers. It's ringing.

"Hello?"

"Staci?"

"Yes."

"Hi," I pause. "This is Josh Lyman. I was wondering if we could get together to start the interview."

"When did you have in mind?" I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Tonight. Eight o'clock."

"Sounds good. Does Georgio's sound alright? I know it's close to the shooting site and my office buildings."

"Georgio's sounds wonderful." There's a moment of silence and I know we're both smiling.

"See you then."

"Later." I flip the phone shut and can't help but continue smiling.

"You're grinning like a bubbling idiot." I look over at Donna. "Well you are."

"What? Grinning or a bubbling idiot?"

"Both."

"Housing Bill?"

"Thank you."

I don't think my palms have sweat like this when meeting a girl since Amy. It's all so nerve-racking really. The place was too easy to find for me to say I got lost and show up late. I could always say the shoot went over, but knowing my luck there would be a time sheet saying when the shoot was over.

I'm delaying. I know this. I'm not stupid. I just jumped into this so quickly I didn't think it though this through properly.

I approach the hostess and give her my name. She's cute with her long blonde hair and bright smile. She kind of reminds me of Donna as she leads me to the table; the already occupied table.

"Sorry I'm late."

"You're not late." She takes a sip from a straw in her drink and smiles at me. The image is eerily reminiscent of Amy. "Surprisingly. From the word I hear, you're not exactly the most punctual person in the world." I smile at her and take a seat.

"So you know a few things already?"

"Just shop talk. Otherwise these interviews would be obsolete." She pulls out a dictaphone and a pad of paper with a pen. "Which would you feel more comfortable with," she looks up at me. "Interview style or conversational style?" I grin over at her. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was flirting with me. Not that I have anything against that.

"Conversation is fine." I take a sip from my water glass. I watch as she puts the pad away and presses the two buttons for record and play down.

"This is day one with Joshua Lyman, 50 eligible of 2004." The waitress is coming and so she pauses the dictaphone.

"Can I get you both anything?" I look up and almost do a double take. She looks a lot like the hostess, who in turn looks remarkably like Donna.

"Yeah, I'll have the Tortellini Blaine'." I wasn't really paying attention but I know I heard her.

"And for you sir?" I slip out of my reveries.

"Um, Chicken Alfredo." She smiles sweetly and walks away. I must be staring as she walks away because Staci asks me a question. This time I didn't hear it. "Hmm?"

"Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no. No, she just looks a lot like someone I know." I look back over to her and she smiles. She has a wonderful smile. One of those smiles that make you have to smile.

"Well then, why don't we start?" She presses the pause button on the recorder again and settles her arms on the table in front of her.

"Well, where do I start?"

"Why don't you start at the beginning." I take in a deep breath as I start my tale.

I have a huge goofy grin on my face as I walk in through the main doors of the White House. I know I look silly, but I don't care as I swipe my ID card. I had an amazing night last night and nothing is going to bring my down. I'm halfway to my office when Donna meets me.

"Why are you smiling?"

"What?" I look at her baffled but never loose the grin.

"You look like you just chewed up a republican. Why are you smiling?"

"Can't a guy be happy coming in to work?" We're in my office now.

"Not on a Monday." She pauses and stares at me. "Oh my God."

"What?" The smile still won't leave. Not that I want it to.

"You slept with her."

"Donna." I can hear the smile even through my incredulous voice.

"You slept with that little flooz last night."

"I did not." I turn to her, my hands out-stretched before me. "We had dinner; a remarkable dinner that ended with nothing elusive. No sex, no other, no nothing. So take your punches, Donna. I'm happy and it has nothing to do with anything immoral."

"Yeah that'll be the day." I heard her say it under her breath as she turns walking away. I look at her agape. I'm not going to let her spoil this mood I'm in. I am going to get through this day happy.

Five minutes later she's back in my office.

"Your floozy's rap sheet came in." I look up from the file in my hand.

"Rap sheet?"

"Would you like me to dictate it and gloat at all the good parts or shall I just leave it with the security desk?"

"She's not a bad girl." Donna gives me a look that screams, 'you're kidding.' "Just give me the file." She hands it over and exits the room. So I'm curious and start to flip through it. She was born in Iowa. She's four years younger than me. I defiantly thought she was a lot younger than that. She's worked for three news magazines including freelances for Time and Newsweek. She's worked for two style magazines and has many positive comments from previous employers. I flip the folder closed and set it aside. "Don-na!"

"Yes Josh?"

"Go see security, leave a pass for entry into the West Wing." She just stares at me. "For Staci. Entry for Staci. She's coming in at lunch and will need clearance." She still stares at me. "Donna."

"Okay, okay." I watch as she scribbles down the name on one of her post- its and heads out the door. So now I'm going to sit at my desk, put up my feet, and read some files until one when she gets here. Is that a grin back on my face? Yes, yes I think it is.