Part 5 "Someone Needs To Deal With Josh's Planet-Sized Ego"

I hate Monday. I'm walking in the door to my apartment and it's one am. This only happens on Mondays. I meet with Jonathan Pyschs after my five o'clock clock out. We end up talking for hours on end over stupid writing techniques I'll never use in journalism, and then I head to dinner with three girls, Tammie, Molly, and Shannon, that always ends up in debates over trivial things that keep us going to the wee hours.

Tonight has been no exception.

It's one o'clock and I haven't had a free moment to catch up on emails all weekend. So I'm going to sit down at my laptop in the dinning room and check out some things on the internet until two. That's the goal. Two is my goal.

Fifty-two actual emails. I have over five hundred in masses, but only fifty-two that I'll actually be reading. Who said the delete button wasn't the second greatest marvel next to sliced bread?

Thirteen were from myself, giving notes on Joshua Lyman's article. A few random chain letters from some friends. Oh, and some fan-fiction list updates. Clicking on the first, I start to scroll down. It's been added to the Lyman files on my site. I'm interested so I scan the summary before opening my site and checking it out there.

It's good. Very good. It's about Josh having an affair with his assistant. A lot of them are. We talked about that the other night. He's linked to a lot of people but it's all shop talk. For instance, Donna is just very charismatic and so it would appear to the outside viewer that they were dating. Oddly enough, I believe that.

So I reply with feedback and friendly criticism and am ready to call it a night when a screen pops up in front of me with a chime. I smile.

How'd the interview go? I didn't get a chance to talk yesterday.



I type my reply back. Went okay. He's very nice. There's going to be more yet but I have some great stuff so far.

Was the assistant there?

Not at the dinner. But at the White House, well, yeah. She works there.

YOU WERE AT DINNER WITH HIM?!

I thought you'd be more impressed by the White House.

SPILL!

I couldn't help the smile that overcame me.

He called me at the office and asked me out to start the interview. He told me about himself and there were a few times when he asked me questions. He then set up for me to come to the White House today.

Sounds more like a date to me.

It wasn't.

Are you sure?

There was no display of affection. Nor did we set up for another dinner.

You're dating Joshua Lyman, DCoS.

I am not.

Whatever.

I'm serious. There's nothing there.

Nothing?

Well... I could hear it in my head and didn't realize I was typing it until it was entered.

I knew it!

Nothing happened though. There just were a few, not a lot, but a few moments when it seemed like it clicked.

Just a few?

Nodded along as I typed it. A few.

So what are you doing? I check the clock; 2:30. I really did try.

Bed. I have another meeting with him tomorrow.

Okay. Sweet Josh—I mean dreams. 0:-D

Goodnight.

I click off the monitor screen and stretch as I stand. Slowly I wander my way into my room and pull at my clothes as I change. I set up a few things so I'll see them in the morning and not forget them. It's a habit. You'd think I'd remember it because of the habit but my head's crazy like that.

Crawling into bed, I can't help but grin. I'm going to spend another day with Joshua Lyman. When I took the job at the magazine, I had no idea an opportunity like this would pop up.

I'm loving my life.

My day has started out bright. I guess you can't note sarcasm right now. Sorry.

My car broke down on the way to work and I'm likely to be late to the interview. I went to make a call for a tow and the phones dead. The male piece to my charger broke off inside of the phone and I didn't know it. So the phone was unable to charge.

Did I mention it's a rainy day? Sunny, but raining. I swear to God I could be in Florida right now.

So I'm soaked, don't have a car, a phone, and I'm running behind. Thank God DC has cabs all over the place.

Security gives me a funny look as I run under the awning. I go to grab something from my bag when I stop.

Where's my bag?

I know I pulled it from the car after the tow got there. I just paid the cab...

... With money from my pocket. The cab hasn't gone far. I run over and just reach it when he starts to go. I hit the trunk once, twice, but the car keeps going.

"Great!" I jump up in a small fit. And it would so happen I'm in a puddle. Figures. Quickly I run back onto the walk and head for the covered entrance gate. The security looks at me again. I can't believe it! He's got a grin on his face!

"ID?" Oh he's funny.

"I don't have it. It's in that cap I just chased."

"I can't let you in unless you have an ID with clearance." I'm practically pleading at this point.

"I was here just yesterday. I remember you working. Do you recognize me? I was here for Joshua Lyman. I'm interviewing him for a magazine article."

"Oh yeah." I sigh as he touches a button and buzzes me through the gate. "Today's just not your day, is it?"

"No sir." I do give a small smile as I breath the words out.

"Good luck on the interview."

"Thanks." And so I'm on another mad dash for the house. It's a long driveway between the house and the security clearance. I'm most defiantly a drown rat.

I enter the Northwest Lobby and head to the security desk to sign in.

"Can I see your ID, ma'am?" I close my eyes for a second. I want to cry.

"Sir, the problem is I don't have it on me. I just got out of a cab and I forgot my purse in the car. The guard at the gate recognized me from yesterday's interview with Josh Lyman."

"Joshua Lyman?"

"Yes." I sigh. Thank God.

I can't let you pass into the West Wing." My face falls.

"What?"

"I was given direct orders from Joshua Lyman not to let you enter the West Wing."

"Why?"

"I didn't ask." I look around the lobby and happen to see Josh walking by.

"Josh!" I took no more than two steps and the guard had himself as a block between Josh and me. I got his attention though. As he walked up to me, I moved to go around and suddenly I was surrounded by five officers. I put up my hands and stop in my tracks. "Wow."

"Please keep your place, ma'am."

Josh made it over to the grouping but didn't excuse them.

"Josh, they said you ordered that I couldn't be let into the West Wing."

"It's Mister Lyman and that's right." I look at him odd.

"Why?"

"Because. Miss George, we exercise a form of professionalism here and it was brought to my attention that your's is other than that."

"When did I show any form of being unprofessional?!"

"Miss George—"

"Staci, Josh. I'm Staci." What the hell is going on?

"I talked to your editor today and asked for you to be reassigned."

"For what reason?! I worked my ass off for this gig!"

"Ma'am, please keep your voice down." I look at the guard only for a moment. A little quieter, I address Josh again.

"When was I unprofessional?"

"When you organized a psychotic fan site devoted to me." My face drops. This can't be happening.

"I never once brought my personal life into the equation. That is my personal form of venting and I have a constitutional right to it."

"Great. Exercise that right while I go talk to your editor about a new reporter. Excuse me, I have a meeting." He turns to walk away.

"Josh, if you thought me being on the interview would be trouble, you won't be able to imagine the trouble I'm going to stir over this." He stops and turns back towards me.

"Excuse me?" He has his incredulous face on. He's picking for a fight and I know it. I'm more than willing to give him one after the day I've been having.

"I said there's going to be trouble if I loose this interview."

"You're a bad bluff, you know that?"

"Except I'm not bluffing." I straighten my stance so to make myself look more intimidating. Which, how intimidating can you be surrounded by security. "If I loose this interview I have three friends that know people in that press room that will be more than willing to listen to my discrimination suite I'll be filing."

"Discrimination?"

"No one's going to know about my having the web site unless someone points the way. Do you know one person that looks up a person's byline after an article?"

"No."

"Then why would this be any different?"

"Because it is."

"How so?"

"Because CJ Cregg knows and so do I."

"If I loose this over my first Amendment right, I'll be suing you and the magazine for discrimination of free speech. I'll be calling it a gag order." He seemed to be thinking about it. I noticed him slightly nod and my security loosed a drastic bit.

"Go home for the day. I'll run it by a few people. Either way I'll be sure to get back to you." I nod. Compromise is good. He turns to walk away.

"I can't go home." He stops and turns to me. I take two steps and surprisingly, they let me.

"Why can't you?"

"I know this isn't going to mean anything to you but I've had this terrible day. My car died, my cell is dead, and I left my purse in my cab here."

"You don't have any money." I shake my head. He downcasts his head and I'm surprised as I watch him dig through his pockets. He hands me a twenty.

"Thank you. This is a huge olive branch after everything said."

"Yeah. Go home." I watch as he turns and walks away. I take a few steps back before turning around to the door. And out them I go. The rain is pouring down on me as I walk to the exit gate.

I think I just got screwed with my pants on. Though I'm not sure if I enjoyed it or not.

I take one more look back to the White House and then back to the security guy.

"Short meeting?"

"You have no idea." He buzzes me out and I walk to the curb to holler down a cab.

He has no idea? I have no idea.