Chapter 2
"You are not to be rude to Jeff. Understand?"
"I'm not rude," I say in an 'I can't believe you'd accuse me of being rude' voice. Of course I'm going to be rude to Jeff the gym guy. Don't be ridiculous. Unless he's… say… 50 years old or older. Then I won't be rude. Unless he touches her in any way, then all bets are off.
"Please. You're a complete snob." She totally misinterprets my rudeness. It has nothing to do with the fact that I'm a snob, which I'm not. It has everything to do with territory. Is that wrong? To act like she's my territory? Well, if it is, too bad.
"It'll be fine. I'm sure Jeff the gym guy can take care of himself."
"And you can't call him that."
"What? That's his name." She never lets me have any fun.
"No. His name is Jeff. Not Jeff the gym guy and certainly not beefcake."
"It's a term." I pull into the parking lot of Century 21 and park near the door.
"It's really not."
"I'll be good," I say, putting on my best smile, flashing the dimples that she can't really resist. She gives me an evil look and gets out of the car.
Ok, I have to focus. Remember my goal. I'm not here to beat up on some struggling realtor, some married father of four, a fifty-eight year old limping, balding, graying, cross-eyed, coke-bottle glasses wearing, smoke stained teeth having, short, mini-van driving, Viagra taking realtor.
My goal is the sub-plan to protect the plan. The End of the Administration plan. The down on one knee in the bullpen, rose petal covered townhouse, sex against the door or in the car, St. Thomas wedding, one month vacation, consulting firm, eventually getting someone else elected president plan. Yes, that plan.
I cannot allow my… well… for lack of a better term, we'll call it jealousy, although I'd never call it that, get in the way of the sub-plan to protect the plan. Jeff the gym guy is not the immediate threat here. The purchase of a home is. Unless, of course, Jeff the gym guy looks like that guy right there. That thirty something, impeccably dressed, extremely muscular guy with perfect hair, a dark complexion, white teeth, and a great smile who's sitting at the desk with the Jeff Roberts' nameplate wearing a $500 suit and probably driving the Mercedes out in the parking lot. But I'm sure that's not Jeff the gym guy. Jeff the gym guy is probably in a different office. Not this office. This office, marked Jeff Roberts, Vice-President.
"Hi Jeff," Donna says, dashing all hopes of the 58 year-old I was so looking forward to getting to know this weekend and immediately changing the sub-plan to include sabotaging not only the purchase of a home, but also this man's chances of getting in Donna's pants.
"Donna! Good to see you. I'm glad you could make it." He stands up and comes around the desk to us. He's a little taller than I had hoped and there's no hint of any sort of limp, but I still have hopes for the Viagra prescription. As for me, I immediately go alpha male, standing very close to Donna, sticking my hand out to Jeff the gym guy.
"Jeff, this is Josh Lyman. He's…"
"Thanks for making the time to meet with us today, Jeff," I say quickly, cutting Donna off before she can say we're co-workers. I need to keep this guy guessing. Let him assume whatever he wants to assume.
He gives me a questioning smile but shakes my hand. "It's my pleasure." He looks back to Donna. "I've set up appointments for six places today and seven tomorrow. We'll see what you like and decide on Sunday from there.
"That sounds great, we're looking forward to seeing what you have to show us," I cut in again. Donna looks at me like I've lost my mind. She obviously can't see what's going on here. The Vice-President of this place isn't going to take the small clients. No way he goes after the $150K purchases. He's looking for a million up. There can be only one reason he's helping Donna. He wants her. I can't fault him for it; she's wonderful. But that doesn't mean I'm standing aside and letting him steal my wife. I've put eight long years into this relationship and I can finally see the promise land. I'm not backing off now so Jeff the gym guy can have her. No way.
"Well, here are the buyer sheets on the places we're going today, and here are the ones on the places we're going tomorrow," he says, handing me a folder.
I look at it like it's foreign and hand it to Donna. "You want to hang on to these?" I ask her.
"If you don't mind," she says to me with a glare.
"That's fine. I'll go through them tonight, after dinner," I say, glancing up at Jeff with a smirk. Yes, up. He's a tall guy. Bastard.
"Well then," he says. "Let's head out. We can take my car." He gestures for Donna to go ahead of him, and I stay on her tail with my hand on her back. We go into the parking lot and Jeff the gym guy opens the front door to his ML500 Mercedes SUV for Donna. I smile sweetly at him and get in the back. Ok, maybe not sweetly. But it's no scowl. I'm secure that my woman loves me. I'm not afraid of Jeff the gym guy. At least, that's the look I'm going for.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
The second we walk into the first place, I grab Donna's hand. "Let's go check out the bedroom," I say wiggling my eyes. Her mouth drops open and she looks like she might hit me, but she allows me to drag her along.
"What are you doing?" she asks me when we're out of his earshot.
"What?" I ask in total innocence.
"This," she says waiving her arms around.
I shrug. "I thought you'd want to see your bedroom."
"And what was with making reservations for tonight at Marcel's?"
Again I shrug. "I thought we'd be hungry after this."
"For a two hundred dollar dinner?"
Think Josh, think. "I… in case you found the perfect place. I thought you'd want to celebrate." Hey, that wasn't half bad. I'm getting better at this thinking on my feet thing.
She squints at me like she's not sure she believes me. "I'm keeping my eye on you."
This time I shrug with a smirk. "Hard to tear your eyes away, huh?" And a good come back too. I'm impressed with myself.
She shakes her head but can't help smiling. "Why did I bring you again?"
"I'm helpful. In fact, there's water damage on the ceiling right there," I say, pointing to corner. "And you've got a crack in your foundation. See?" I say, pointing to the side wall.
"Is that bad?"
I nod. "Yes. It means you need a new roof and major structural work."
"Let's at least look at the rest of the place."
"Fine." I let her go in front of me and we go back into the living room, where Jeff the gym guy's on his cell phone. He hangs up when he sees us walk in.
"How was the bedroom?" he asks me. I can see the gears working in his head. He hates me. Yes!
"Water damage," Donna says like she knows what she's talking about. That's my girl. Bluff your way through. Hell, that's what I just did.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Toby calls me on the way to place number two. There's a thing with the French ambassador, and I'm on the phone for the entire trip there. I'm trying to listen to Toby, but still listen to Donna and Jeff the gym guy. And let me just tell you, it's not easy to comment on foreign policy while still trying to make sure the mother of your future children isn't stolen out from underneath your nose.
"Does Josh work at the White House too?" he asks her. Obviously, he's eavesdropping on my conversation. Just more proof that he's after Donna.
"Yeah. He's…"
"Donnatella," I say, cutting her off. See how I'm using cute little names? It's part of the plan. The sub-plan I mean. Well, the addition to the sub-plan. Whatever. It's part of making Jeff the gym guy think we're an item without going so far that Donna hauls off and hits me.
"What?" she asks.
"When is the French delegation coming?"
"Two weeks."
"I just said that," says Toby in my ear.
"Oh. I ah… didn't hear you," I say to him. He continues talking about the changes the French want in the talks.
We arrive at the second place and I'm still on the phone. It's pretty cute on the outside. I'm going to have to find something wrong with it on the inside. Donna's looking around with Jeff the gym guy and I'm paying attention to Toby, but not letting them get too far from me.
Finally, Toby finishes with me and I walk over to Donna. I come up to her from behind and lean in so I can whisper in her ear. She'll think I don't want Jeff the gym guy to hear what I'm saying; he'll think I'm being boyfriendy. It's a word.
"It's pretty small," I whisper. She just nods. No need to worry about this place.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
"So, do you guys get to see the President often?" Jeff asks us on the way to the third place. I snort in reply.
"Josh meets with him several times a day. He's…"
"We're both important parts of the administration. We meet with him regularly," I say, once again cutting her off. She turns around and gives me one of her 100-watt smiles when I say that, but I mean it. Donna's an important part of the administration. You don't have to meet with the President daily to be important to the administration. He's only part of it. Donna's my right hand. Without her, I wouldn't be able to do what I do.
We pull up to the third place and walk inside. This one needs totally remodeled. I see Donna's eyes. Uh oh. She sees possibility. "Donnatella…"
"I can do something with this place, Josh," she says quietly. Shit.
Now… I have to be careful here. First off, we have the Jeff the gym guy situation, and I have to come off like a supportive guy. Second, I can't be a dick. It's her decision, and I don't want her to get pissed or feel bad about the types of places she's looking at. Because the truth is, Donna could make a lot more money than she does by doing something else. Yet she chooses to stay in her current job. So, I can't act as though she's looking at total shit. Which, by the way, she is. On the other hand, I have to stick with the sub-plan.
"I agree," I say nodding. "You rip out all those cabinets and appliances in the kitchen, put down new linoleum, rip up all this carpet and put new down, or maybe hardwood floors, completely redo the bathroom, paint, put a new door on the place… it could be something. Structurally, it looks pretty sound."
"Yeah." Although she doesn't say it with as much gusto as she had a minute ago.
"I don't think you're going to be able to live here while you do that though."
"Probably not."
"You could stay with me," I say, glancing over at Jeff the gym guy. Her eyes get huge when I say this, and I start talking again to keep her from telling me that's an absurd idea. We don't need Jeff the gym guy hearing that. "Although, if the rest of the place needs work, what about the electrical and plumbing, and what about insulation? You could have $300 heat bills in the winter if this place isn't insulated well."
"True," she says, starting to come around.
"And when are we going to do the renovations? Think of our schedule. We'd have to be out of office before we really even got started. And who knows what we're going to do next?" Well, I know. I have the plan. But as I discovered on Wednesday, she's a little unclear on the plan.
"We?" Yep, I knew she'd catch that.
"Of course. I'd help. It'd be fun." That's a complete and total lie, and she must know it, because she looks at me like I've been doubled by the evil Mr. Sark.
She walks into the bathroom and looks around, but I keep talking. "Of course, when you're done, you still have a one bedroom townhouse in an area that isn't growing all that much. And you wouldn't have an office or a dining room. But…" must remain somewhat positive. "You'd have a big bedroom and a big living room. That's good."
She comes out of the bathroom with a determined look on her face. "I don't know. I don't think this is the one." Whew.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
"Absolutely not."
"Josh."
"No."
"But we haven't even been inside yet."
"We don't need to go inside this one. This is not the one."
"How do you know?"
"Do you see that car?"
"Which car?"
"The one with no bumper and no tires," I say pointing to the car directly across the street from us.
"Oh, that one."
"Yes, that one," I say nodding.
"Someone's probably doing some work on it."
"Someone's probably waiting on the police to get here so they can file a report on it."
"Josh…."
"Donnatella….no."
"This isn't your decision to make."
"Call me a chauvinistic pig. You're not moving here."
"But…"
"Let's go to the next one."
"But this one has two bedrooms. The others we looked at don't have two bedrooms."
"That's ok. You're not living in the others we've looked at either."
"Why did I let you come?"
"Because I'm helpful."
"This isn't helpful."
I answer her by taking out my cell phone and pretending to snap a picture of the car across the street. "What are you doing?" she asks me.
"I'm taking a picture of that car and e-mailing it to your father. Just trying to be helpful," I say in a singsong voice.
"You wouldn't!"
"Wouldn't I?" No, I wouldn't. I have no idea how to use the camera on this phone. No idea whatsoever. And if Donna weren't panicking at the thought of her dad seeing the neighborhood she wants to move into, she'd know it. I can barely turn on my computer, much less work a cell phone camera and then e-mail a picture to someone whose e-mail address I don't even know.
"You're mean."
"And you're not living here." I turn to Jeff the gym guy. "She's not living here."
Four down, eight to go.