"Mrs. Bartlet, we think you should do a talk show," CJ said.
She and Leo were in Abbey's office in the East Wing.
"A morning show?"
"No," Leo answered. "Late night."
"You're kidding. Really?"
"Yes."
"Because of the contest right?" Abbey asked.
"Well, it can't hurt the campaign either," Leo said.
"Which one? The campaign to reelect my husband or the campaign to make me Sexiest First Lady? Because I've been wondering which one has taken priority lately…" She looked at them suspiciously.
"We just think the people should hear from you firsthand how you're feeling about the contest and how you and the President are handling it," Leo explained.
"We're willing to bet some Americans are feeling uneasy about it because they think you disapprove," CJ continued.
"Do I disapprove?"
"No," Leo returned. "It's all in good fun to you."
"Oh, it is, is it?"
"Abbey, we're not tellling you what to think, we're…"
"Really? Because that's exactly what it sounds like." She placed her hands on her hips.
"You ARE ok with this, aren't you, ma'am?"
"Yes, CJ, I am. But that doesn't mean the President is and I won't speak for him."
CJ looked at Leo with alarm.
"The President disapproves?"
"I wouldn't say that, but I know he isn't completely comfortable with it," Abbey answered.
"Abbey," Leo began, looking at her seriously. "Listen. Everyone knows that you have quite a way with words. You're compelling in front of an audience and the public adores you. They've seen you serious on Larry King and now I think it's time that they see the charming, witty, fun, and yes sexy, Abigail Bartlet the President fell in love with. They need to see that."
She opened her mouth to speak but Leo held up his hand and continued.
"Pick a talk show, any one you want. Go, have fun, be yourself, and don't worry about First Lady etiquette."
"When do I ever?" Abbey joked.
But Leo remained serious.
"Often, Abbey. You know when to be Abbey and when to be First Lady, thank God, whether you realize it or not. You are an excellent First Lady. We just want the world to see you when you're not dressed to the nines being gracious and hospitable or giving dramatic, grave speeches in the Middle East. We never saw Jacqueline Kennedy like that while she was in the White House and we're starting to think maybe we should have."
"Well. That's quite an argument you put forth there, McGarry," Abbey commented.
"Well, it's about time that…"
She cut him off.
"Leno."
"What?"
"I choose Jay Leno."
"The Tonight Show?" Leo asked.
"That's the one."
"You want to go on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno?" CJ confirmed.
"Yes," Abbey answered, matter-of-factly.
CJ smiled.
"All right. You got it," CJ said, writing it down. "And I think I can get him to clear a show for you completely- you'll have to the whole hour to yourself. No other guests."
"Oh, Lord. That just gives me more time to screw up and say something inappropriate. It's only a matter of time before I do that, you know."
"We trust you, Abbey," Leo said, confidently.
"I don't know if I trust myself on Leno for a whole hour. I'm bound to…"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Bartlet, but we're not worried and you shouldn't be either," CJ said.
"All right then. California, here I come."
7 Days Left
Amy, Abbey, and her agents arrived in Los Angeles, California, and thanked their lucky stars that they were given this vacation. They wouldn't call it a vacation around anyone else, but Abbey and Amy were more than willing to take a break from the non-stop White House mentality. It was 11am and Abbey was due at the NBC studios by 5pm.
Abbey knocked on the door of Amy's hotel room, which ajoined to her own room.
"Amy?"
She opened the door.
"Ma'am."
Abbey held up her towel and Amy noticed she was in her bathing suit.
"Shall we?"
"Only if you have sunblock because I didn't…"
Abbey held up some Coppertone and grinned. Amy laughed.
"Just give me five minutes. I'll meet you out there."
Ten minutes later, Abbey and Amy were laying on lounge chairs by the hotel pool, complete with sunglasses and margaritas, and surrounded by creepy-looking agents.
"I can't decide whether it sucks to be you or if it's heaven to be you," Amy said.
Abbey laughed. She loved that Amy was so honest and blunt, even around her.
"Both at times."
"What about now?"
"Mixed emotions. Heaven that I'm in L.A. at a luxurious hotel hanging by the pool…and sucks because I can't flee all these agents no matter what I do," Abbey replied.
"Don't you ever just want to escape?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
Amy sat up. She hadn't expected that answer.
"You do?"
"Mm hmm. Don't you?"
"Well, yeah but…"
"Everyone wants to escape from something, Amy. Nobody's life can be heaven all the time," Abbey said.
"Not even the First Lady of the United States?"
"Especially not the First Lady of the United States."
Amy nodded, thoughtfully.
"Can I ask you a question?" Amy inquired.
"Go ahead."
"What's it really like being married to the President of the United States? And I don't mean it the way Jay Leno is probably gonna ask you tonight. I mean honestly."
"Why, are you considering marrying a future President?" Abbey asked, jokingly.
Amy didn't say anything.
"Oh my God. You are."
"Mrs. Bartlet…"
"It's Josh, isn't it"
"I'm just curious, Mrs. Bartlet. That's all," Amy insisted.
"Ok. Well. Hmm…"
"Like how does it make you feel?"
"Well, sometimes it makes me feel really small. And other times I feel larger than life. You have to understand, Amy, it's never the same. There are times that I'm grateful to be where I am, because it's really liberating to be able to have so much influence over the world. After years of wanting to change the world, now I finally have the power to do most of those things. But then I'll look around at the agents and watch my husband's staff scurry around like maniacs, educating me on what I need to say in public, what to wear, how to act…and it makes me feel trapped."
"Wow," Amy said, quietly, tracing the rim of her margarita glass with her fingertip.
"And then there's…well, then there's the President. Sometimes I watch him and it seems like I don't even know who he is. And then, maybe even just minutes later, I observe him with awe, with pride. I think about how lucky I am to be married to a man of such stature. But I swear to God, Amy, you can't imagine what it's like to…"
"To what?" Amy interjected, with interest.
"Well, I just…I think of where Jed and I were twenty-five years ago: just living on a farm in New Hampshire with our children and respective careers. The very epitome of simplicity. And now…now it's all silver spooned elegance lined with stress and pressure. It's all very…bittersweet, I guess I would say," Abbey stated, sighing and staring at the sky.
"This isn't what you wanted?" Amy asked.
"Lord, no. It isn't what I imagined at least. I never dreamed that I would be sitting here with my own Chief of Staff surrounded by Secret Service agents who get paid to keep me alive."
"You never imagined? Not even when you were kid?"
"Never."
"Ah. The things we do for love," Amy said, thinking.
"Truer words have never been said, kid."
Then it occurred to Abbey that just a few hours later…she would be sitting on front of Jay Leno, dishing out the details about her life and trying to be relaxed.
TBC.