Chapter 4

I'm driving seventy miles an hour through the streets of DC. This can't be safe. Fucking Brett Allen and his crush. This is all his fault. I think he and Jeff the gym guy are in on it together. No, really. Think about it, it makes sense. They probably met late one night at a bar and started talking about women. And Jeff the gym guy started talking about the blonde bombshell at his gym and how good she looks wearing a tank top and tight fitting yoga pants with her hair in a loose pony tail and sweat dripping down her long alabaster neck. Damn, I never thought of it that way. The second addition to the sub-plan, the one that includes Donna changing gyms, is going to have to be amended. She's got to go to an all women gym. But maybe until I can make that happen, I should start going to her gym with her. You know, just to make sure she's ok. Not to look at her in a tank top and tight fitting yoga pants with her hair in a loose pony tail and sweat dripping down her long alabaster neck. I'd never do that.

Sorry, I got a little side tracked there. So, Jeff the gym guy talked about Donna and Brett the bore said yes, he knew the type. There was this woman who worked in his field who had long blonde hair that looked immaculate, even after 15 hour work days, and she was sweet and funny and smart, smarter than him, and she was feisty and witty and could make a grey pair of slacks and a conservative pink sweater look sexy. And then after more comparisons, they realized they were talking about the same woman. And Brett the bore Allen knows the unwritten rule in the house. He's received the memo, he knows Donna's mine. And please don't tell Donna that I speak of her as property, that'll only get me in trouble and I don't really mean it the way it sounds. So, he then told Jeff the gym guy about me, and since then, they've been plotting a way to get me out of the picture. Sure, they'll eventually have to be against each other in the war of winning Donna's love, but neither of them have a chance until I'm out of the picture, so they'll work together to do that and then they'll turn against each other. It's like how we worked with the Soviet Union during World War II. Kind of.

So see, I'm not deranged. This is all Brett Allen's fault.

See, he called Toby late last night and claimed he needed to meet on the Education bill we're working on. And, of course, Toby called me and wanted me to meet with him again, even though we covered everything on Wednesday afternoon. I all but begged Toby to do it for me, but he was meeting with the French Ambassador again, like that's important. So, I had to meet with Brett the bore Allen this morning at 8:00am. Donna and I were scheduled to meet Jeff the gym guy at ten, and it's now 8 minutes until 10, and I'm going to be late.

If I'm late, it's all over for me. I know that Jeff the gym guy will ask Donna what's up with the two of us, and she'll innocently and flirtatiously tell him that we're simply co-workers, and he'll no longer be afraid of me. And she does flirt too. She does. She just doesn't know it. It's all in her pout and the way she tilts her head to the side and acts so innocent as she smiles. How do you think she got her job? Right. So, she'll flirt and he won't be afraid and then I'll have to change tactics and be rude and have the IRS investigate him, which will get back to Donna, which will get me yelled at by both her and CJ. Again, all Brett Allen's fault.

See, the original plan was for me to get out of the meeting by 9:15, pick up Donna, and ride together to Jeff the gym guy's office. But at 9:40, I called to tell her I was just leaving the hill, and she told me she'd just meet me there. I screamed no, but she just asked me if I was going to act strange again today and told me that I would get there quicker if I didn't have to go all the way to her place and then backtrack to Jeff the gym guy's office. When I started whining, she told me I didn't have to come at all if I was going to be a big baby, so I shut up and agreed to meet them there. Now, like I originally said, I'm driving seventy miles an hour through the streets of DC.

I pull into the parking lot just as Jeff the gym guy gets out of his car. I made it! I watch as he walks around the car and pulls Donna in for a hug that lasts too long in my opinion, and to try to break it up, I throw my car door open and try to jump out. Unfortunately, I forget to undo my seatbelt, so it locks up on me and chokes the hell out of me, making me cough and gasp, which in turn makes them look over at me. But at least they stopped hugging.

And what's up with that? Donna has hugged me four times in eight years. And only two of those times were initiated by her. Once when I gave her a book for Christmas with a carefully crafted and might I say well-done message, and once three days after she took me to the hospital when I cut my hand. And after that time, she hit me on the arm and yelled at me for scaring her, so I'm not sure the two don't cancel each other out. I hugged her the night of the first election and the night of the third state of the union Address, which is also the first time I kissed her, on the cheek of course. And in Germany, there was a lot of hand holding, and I kissed her forehead a few times, but no hugs. I was afraid she'd break in half. So I'm just wondering what Jeff the gym guy did that was so fucking great that a hug was warranted.

So, I finally get my seatbelt undone and jump out of my car, trying to look as though I didn't almost just suffocate.

"I was wondering if you'd be joining us today Josh," Jeff the gym guy says with a smile, shaking my hand. Of course, what he really means is 'I was hoping you wouldn't be joining us today Josh, because I wanted to try to sleep with your future wife at the first place we went today with a bed still in the bedroom.' It's all in his eyes.

I smile back. "I wouldn't miss it for anything." Of course, what I really mean is, 'You touch my future wife and mother of my 2.5 kids, and I'll kill you, you beefcake bastard.' Again, all in the eyes.

"You made pretty good time from the hill," Donna says to me. Now what she's really saying is, 'you freak, how fast did you drive here and what is your deal lately? You're losing your mind.' Again, the eyes. You have to learn to read people's eyes.

I shrug. "Lucked out with the lights I guess." And what I really said was, 'Aren't I cute?' The way she rolled her eyes tells me that she read my eyes just fine and indeed, didn't think I was cute at all.

We take Jeff the gym guy's pretty boy, gas guzzling, look how much money I have, sexmobile Mercedes again today and head into Virginia. "I think you'll find that you can get a little more for your money in Virginia. You might even be able to get a small house for what a townhouse in the district would cost."

Donna looks back at me with excitement. "I could have fourth of July parties in the back yard," she says with one of her innocent flirty smiles. See, told you she flirts and doesn't know it.

"I have a back yard, and you've never hosted a party from it," I say. It's a courtyard the four townhouses in my building share. Judy, from across the hall even has a garden out there and gives me tomatoes in the summer that I promptly bring in to work and give to Margaret.

"You want me to host parties from your yard?"

"I'm just saying, if you want to have a party, you could use my yard. I wouldn't mind. I could help; it'd be fun." When I say that, I get an even bigger smile. Taking a chance, I reach up to the front seat where she's sitting next to Jeff the gym guy and squeeze her shoulder. She bites her lower lip and looks down shyly and I fight the urge to do a touchdown dance.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The first three places we go to are not Donna's style at all and I have to do very little for the sub-plan. When we walk into the fourth one, however, Donna gets an expression on her face and her eyes glaze over with excitement. Oh shit.

"Do you really want to live in Virginia?" I ask her.

"It has hardwood floors," she whispers. Women and their damn floors.

"You'd have two transfers on the metro to get to work everyday."

"It has a huge deck," she says in a daze.

"And a yard that you'd have to mow every week."

"An attached garage, Josh." She's still whispering. I'm gonna have to propose to keep her from buying this place.

"A driveway you'll have to shovel in the winter," I say weakly. I don't think she can even hear me.

"It's Victorian." Ok, I don't really know what that means, but I can tell by the way she says it that it's a good thing. For her. Bad for me.

In near desperation, I look at Jeff the gym guy for help. "How old's the roof?"

He looks over a sheet of paper. "The roof, HVAC, windows, security system and insulation are all brand new. The floors were just redone, the driveway was just paved, the cabinets and all appliances in the kitchen are new, the bathroom's been redone, the deck is a year old."

"So what," I ask, running my fingers through my hair. "It's the perfect house?"

He nods. "It appears so."

I look back at her, standing in the middle of the living room looking at the vaulted ceilings. "Then how can she afford it?"

"It's ten thousand more than she wants to pay and it's not in the best neighborhood. Although this area is growing like crazy."

Yes! "Donna, it's ten thousand more than you want to pay."

"Maybe I can get them to come down five thousand. That wouldn't up my payments too much." She walks into the kitchen again and I follow her. I watch as she opens up every cabinet, and without even asking, I can tell she's picturing how to arrange her dishes.

"You're not going to get them down much. It's only been on the market for eight days," Jeff the gym guy says to her.

She walks from the kitchen to the deck. "I could put a grill and patio furniture out here," she says, looking out over the yard. "And I could hang a hammock between those two trees."

I stand at the door and watch her. She looks amazing walking around like she's on a cloud. There's this glint in her eyes and her mouth is open just the slightest, giving her a look of awe. As she walks the perimeter of the deck, I find myself thinking that she belongs there. The sub-plan Josh. Remember the sub-plan. This is not the time to go soft.

"All your friends live in the district."

"Yeah," she says. "But it's only three blocks to the metro. I'd have to get used to the commute. People do it everyday. Did you see the tub? It's a Jacuzzi tub."

"There's only one bathroom," I say quietly. She nods.

"In a few years I could add another upstairs. I bet there's room in the hallway over the downstairs bathroom," she says, walking back into the house and slowly up the stairs.

"That'd be pretty expensive."

"That's why I'd do it in a few years."

"You'd have to paint the living room."

"This is the one, Josh," she whispers to me.

"I could help paint the living room." What? Did I just say that? What am I doing?

She snaps out of her trance and smiles at me. "You'd get more on yourself than on the walls."

"And I'd charge you too," I say with a smirk. Get a grip, Josh! Think of the plan. Think of the sub-plan.

"You would, would you?"

"Yep. Two backrubs and a batch of your mother's famous chocolate chip cookies." In a year, I'm going to be living in the suburbs in this house. Josh Lyman, suburb guy. I guess it could be worse. It could be Wisconsin.

"Jeff, we'd better go back to your office," she says to him, still looking at me.

I slowly walk up to her and give her a hug, holding her a little tighter and a little closer than I need to. When I let go, I whisper, "I'll go call Marcel's."