"Okay, see, the thing is the store I was at didn't have those little peach candies..." Josh paced his hotel room, speaking into the phone. "They had apricot ones... guess that wouldn't be the same thing, huh?"

Donna cradled the phone with her ear and shoulder and looked at the hotel's digital clock by the bed. 1:00 AM. She should really get to bed, instead of painting her toenails and talking to Josh on the phone. But damn, the Blackberry Burn really looked good on her toes and Josh's voice really soothed every frayed nerve in her body. "Did you buy the apricot ones anyway?"

"No...yes. Yes, I did."

"You can't go out and buy them now, Josh."

"So you're saying you would have taken the apricot ones even though you really want the peach ones?"

The pinkie toe was really hard to fill properly. "Sure. I mean, I guess it's like getting me flowers in April instead of February."

"You are never going to let that go. I'm going to be... dead in the ground and you will be at my grave berating me about the damn flowers." He sat down on bed and began taking off his shoes. He hoped that hadn't sounded too morbid for her, considering both of their brushes with mortality.

"You think that's what I'm going to be berating you about at your grave?"

"You probably have a list somewhere." He peeled off one of socks.

"Index cards, baby." One foot done. She blew on the freshly-painted toes, not sure if it actually made the polish dry faster or not.

"Are you... breathing heavily or something?" Josh laid down on the bed, one sock on, one sock off. In his mind, many images of what would make Donna breath heavily, several choice pictures illegal in some states.

"I'm putting polish on my toes."

"While you're talking to me?"

"Yeah."

Josh bolted upright on his bed. Deep red nail polish on luscious alabaster toes... Josh tore off his other sock and threw it across the room. He himself started to breath a little heavily. "Donna..." There was sandpaper in his voice.

"Yeah?"

"You know... that's a big turn-on for me, right?" The sandpaper was gone and now he was about twelve years old with a pimple on his nose. He hoped she found a squeaky voice sexy.

Donna, of course, knew. Amy had worn sandals one summer day and Donna noticed these things. Josh's eyes turning into dinner plates wasn't something she missed. This was why she had broken out the nail polish as soon as he had called.

Nonchalantly, she answered him. "Yeah."

"So you are purposely torturing me right now?" He laid back down.

"Just think of it as something you can berate me for at my grave."

Josh rolled on his stomach and chuckled softly. "I'm a bit older then you, Donnatella. I don't think I'll be around to hock a loogie on your tombstone."

Briefly, Donna wondered how the two of them could be talking about each other's graves so lightly. She pushed the thought aside. It was a light conversation and maybe it was their way of coping. It wouldn't be right to delve deeper on cell phones in two different cities. They deserved better.

She changed the subject. "So, Cliff..."

"No, I'm Josh. That's the other Deputy Chief of Staff."

"Very funny."

"However, if you called him Josh at some inopportune moments... I think I have the right to know about it." He kept his voice light and playful. His hands were shaking.

Blackberry Burn streaked all over her big toe. "You're going to mock me about that?"

"Well, I was too angry four years ago to mock you about it. So I have to make up for lost time."

"Joshua..." She was walking, actually hopping on one foot, towards the bathroom. She needed kleenex to get the damn polish off her foot. It was probably already too late.

"Yes, dear?" If a tone of voice could contain a smirk...

"I have never, ever, in the past eight years called out "Josh" when I was with some other guy."

"What about Joshua?"

"No. Did you ever moan "Donnatella" when you were with Amy?" The polish was not coming off the big toe. Why hadn't she thought to pack nail polish remover?

"If I had, do you think I'd still be among the living?" Damn, he didn't want yet another reference to death in this conversation. His hands had stopped shaking and his voice was normal and yet every nerve felt like fire. He wanted to ask her what she meant by " some other guy" but he couldn't quite form the words.

"Getting back to what I was talking about earlier, before you drove the conversation into the gutter yet again... wait, you're admitting you were mad about Cliff? You always maintained that you weren't?"

His nerves were on fire, now he was in quicksand. "Um... Donna... of course I told you I wasn't mad. You were upset enough as it was."

"I could tell. You were pissed."

"I was."

"Livid."

"Yes."

"Before we even got to the diary part..."

"Well, you knew I was pissed about the diary. I didn't exactly try and hide that from you."

She had resumed painting her toenails, figuring she might as well finish the job. Even though her big toe looked like Rudolph's nose and she was still quivering inside over some of the twists of this conversation. Maybe she and Josh were on a time-delay, like live television. Maybe four years from now, they could talk about Gaza and her quitting with the same honesty.

"Why did you try and hide your anger from me?"

He noticed she didn't ask why he was angry in the first place. She probably didn't need to.

"I just... I knew it wasn't my place to be angry. I mean, the whole Ways and Means, ethical conflict stuff, sure I could have been mad about that. But I wasn't. I mean, I was but that wasn't what I was really upset about."

The other foot was polished. Donna laid down on the bed, spreading out her toes, letting them dry. She thought of her next words carefully. "Cliff was apricot candy, Josh. I couldn't have the peach."

"I know."

"Did you know that then?"

"I know it now." Both of their voices had softened, almost to the point of whispers. Josh's hands were shaking again. Although the fire and quicksand seemed to have subsided, his pulse was doing double-time and he wondered if all the talk of graves wasn't apropos. This conversation might be giving him a heart attack. "I couldn't have the peach, either."

"So Amy was an apricot?"

"More like a candied yam." They both laughed, relieved to have admitted something without really having to say the words.

"You know, it's funny," Donna lolled her head against the pillow. "I used to be able to tell people who asked that I had never slept with the Deputy Chief of Staff for Strategic Planning. Now, I'm going to have to ask them to specify."

Josh laughed and then felt somewhat pained. "Who asked you that?"

"Josh..."

"I'm serious. Who the hell asked you that?" His voice was extremely tight.

"Didn't Amy ask you that, once?"

"She said she had heard that I was dating my assistant. Big difference from someone asking you if you had slept with your boss."

She sighed, knowing that it was different and knowing all the reasons that it was unfair. At the moment all of it seemed unfair. "People asked who couldn't believe a college dropout..."

"Stop."

"Josh..."

"Just stop... or... I'll have to hit something. And you know me, I'll break my hand and I'm a wimp about pain."

"But you wanted to know." Donna flexed her hand muscles. At the time, she had wanted to hit those inquiring minds, too.

"I wanted to know names. And phone numbers. And addresses."

"I don't usually compile contact info on the people who insult me."

"You're going to be a big name in the Democratic party. You should start." Josh had stopped punching his pillow by this point. Being in his mid-forties, he had learned that punching a wall never did a body any favors. Learned the hard way. He noticed that she had not replied to what he had said. "Donna..."

She was on the verge of tears. "Josh... that's... that's one of the nicest things you have ever said to me."

"That you should make an enemies list?"

"No! That... my career... I'm going to be a big name. That's a really sweet thing to say."

"It's the truth." It was the truth and he had accepted it. He hadn't accepted that it meant not seeing her face everyday, but only a completely selfish bastard would begrudge her what she had earned.

"Am I being selfish, Josh?"

Ironic that he had been just thinking of himself as selfish. Donna, selfish? Even her worst enemy, if she had one, wouldn't use that word to describe her. "I'm not following you."

"You know how I really feel about Bob Russell... I'm not looking out for the American people by trying to get him elected. I'm looking out for myself, my career."

"That's what you have to do this go-round. Next election, you'll be able to pick and choose. Once you've established yourself. Once you've established a name for yourself... away from me." It made him feel ill to say those words. Bile was actually in his throat. Nerves, heart and now stomach. All bodily systems were failing him tonight. He was trying hard not to be a selfish bastard.

"Away from you professionally, Josh."

Suddenly, Josh was cured of all his ills.

"Not personally," Donna continued. She felt sleepy. She also felt fully prepared to talk to him until four in the morning.

"I'm going to get you those peach candies, Donna." Josh's voice was raspy. "If I have to go into every Cracker Barrel and every little store in Georgia, I'm finding you those damn candies. No apricots."

"I never really wanted the apricot, anyway."

"I don't even like the taste of candied yams."

Donna sat up a bit and smiled at her silent television set. "You had to take it back to the gutter, didn't you?" She winced a bit as the mental picture of Amy and yams came into her brain but erased it with the idea of...peaches. Her peach.

"What? No... I was trying to tell you something... using metaphor."

"I know, Josh."

"But if you want to take it back to the gutter, which is where your devious little mind apparently wants to go, then I'll just tell you that I'm sure your peach tastes yummy." Donna could hear the huge grin on his face and could also hear the slight arousal in his voice.

"Josh, do you want me to put on a second coat of nail polish?" She grabbed the bottle just in case.

"God, woman, what are you trying to do to me here?"

"It's a nice red, Josh. Do you think I should use long strokes or short strokes when I put it on?" Donna teased, trying not to giggle.

"Donna, you gotta stop or else we're going to cross a big line..."

"Haven't we already crossed a line tonight?" Donna asked, feeling serious all of a sudden.

"Yeah, we have. But when we cross that particular, you know, line, I'd rather do it in person than over the phone."

"Do it in person?"

"I'm two more words about toenails and polish away from the finish line over here, Donna."

"Wha...oh."

"Yeah, the big "O"."

"You're doing that while you're on the phone with me? Please tell me that this is the first time you've..."

"I'm not doing anything. It was about to happen by itself without any peach-fondling."

Donna grinned wildly. Eight years and he had controlled the roll of the dice, professionally. Personally, it was always hard to say who was in command. But now... "I'm unscrewing the cap."

"Please keep the cap on. And don't use the word screw."

"It's a really sexy red."

"Ohh... I believe you."

"Should I start with my big toe or little toe?"

Heavy breathing and a very soft "Donnatella."

"Josh..."

Silence.

"Joshua..."

Had that happened... just from that? Donna set the nail polish down.

"Sor...sorry. I, uh, dropped the phone." It sounded like he had run a marathon.

"Are you going to be all-right?"

He was going to be fine. He just had to walk to the bathroom to get some kleenex now and get these pants cleaned tomorrow. Slightly embarrassed, pretty contented and absolutely without a doubt, Josh felt fine right now. "I'm doing well, although I wish I could have taken you where I just went."

Donna slipped under her covers. "You will."

"Can I try right now?"

"I thought you didn't want us to cross this line over the phone."

"If you had kept the nail polish cap on, it might have been."

"Okay," Donna turned out the light. "Talk to me about my peach."