"Despite what you hear, economics is not an exact science — although I'll probably be drummed out of the club for saying so..."
Josh smiled as a ripple of laughter rolled through the auditorium. The President was on a roll, relaxed and accessible. This was the fourth in a series of five town-hall meetings they were doing across the country. Starting in Houston at the beginning of February, each had focused on a different section of the State of the Union. It gave them the opportunity to reiterate key issues, keeping them fresh and in the public eye.
They had all worried that, with the economy the focus of this meeting, the President would slip into lecture mode, but so far, he had avoided the trap. And the crowd? Josh glanced around, nodding to himself. Every seat was filled, and everyone looked engaged. It was the cross section they had hoped for — White, Hispanic, Asian, Black, senior citizens, professionals, working-class families, and even a few college students. The questions had covered everything from Social Security to income tax to government spending. The President had handled each one with finesse, connecting with the audience and driving home his points.
The trip had not been an unqualified success. They had arrived forty-five minutes late for a luncheon with party officials and prominent supporters, and that was only thanks to Colonel Gantry's flight plan and the state police closing parts of both the San Diego and Santa Monica Freeways. The sky had opened up as they walked to the groundbreaking ceremony for an addition to a local hospital, and except for the President, they had all been soaked. The rain had also knocked out the audio equipment, delaying the President's speech for an additional half hour. It had left them barely enough time to return to the hotel and change into dry clothes before getting back in the cars and driving to the auditorium for the town-hall meeting.
Josh rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension that had been building there since he had rolled out of bed at four thirty that morning. Once they finished here, they were returning to the hotel. After the day they had endured, they were all grateful that Leo had, for once, persuaded the President to stay overnight and fly home the next day.
Glancing at his watch, Josh turned toward the foyer. Leo glanced up from the TV monitor as he passed.
"Is it time already?"
"Well, in a couple of minutes. I thought I'd, you know, take a walk." Josh nodded toward the stage. "He's doing well."
"I was a little worried at the beginning, but yeah, it's going okay. "
Margaret appeared with a cell phone in her hand. "Toby," she announced. "You wanted him to check in with you."
Josh walked on as Leo took the call. He stepped into the two-story atrium, dazzled by the oversized crystal chandelier after the dim lighting of the auditorium. When his eyes adjusted, he nodded to a few of the Secret Service agents he recognized. Otherwise, the space was empty.
His heels clicked against the marble as he paced along the long row of windows, his hands clasped behind his back. Outside, more agents and the police monitored the crowd that had gathered, keeping them behind the line of sawhorses. A few people held signs, and he smiled, seeing an old "Bartlet for America" placard.
He walked the length of the hall, and then back, his eyes on the scene outside. It never failed to amaze him that people waited patiently for hours just to get a glimpse of the President as he walked to the car. Of course, this president often ignored the dictates of his schedule and stopped to shake hands with a lucky few. He thrived on the contact even as it drove Ron Butterfield crazy.
A town car moved slowly along the drive, stopping at the bottom of the steps. As Josh strode to the front doors, two agents moved forward to intercept the passenger.
"Sam!" he called as he hit the crash bar.
Sam glanced up, smiling when he saw Josh. He waited as one agent checked his name against a list and the other verified his ID. When they were satisfied, he walked up the steps.
Josh met him on the landing. "Here," he said, handing him the pin that would identify him as a member of the President's entourage.
"Thanks," Sam said as he fastened it to his lapel. Dressed in the charcoal-gray suit Josh had brought with him to Los Angeles, he looked every bit a counselor to the President.
"New tie?" Josh inquired as they climbed the steps.
Sam glanced down at the ice-blue tie, smoothing it against his crisp white shirt. "Yeah, my mother hated the one I asked you to bring. This is my dad's."
"Looks good."
"I thought so, too."
"So he's —"
"Never going to see it again," Sam finished, and they both laughed.
"Well, you couldn't afford it on a government salary."
Sam's words were clipped. "Please don't, Josh."
"'Please don't' what?"
"Push."
"I'm not!" he protested. "I'm really not." He sighed as Sam's eyebrows rose. "Okay, maybe I am. Sorry."
Sam nodded as they reached the door. Inside, Josh stepped back as an agent ran a handheld metal detector in an arch around Sam.
"You're fine, Mr. Seaborn," she said.
"Thank you." Sam glanced at one of the monitors as they passed. "He's doing well. I watched part of it at home. You managed to keep Professor Bartlet from making an appearance."
Holding Sam's arm above the elbow, Josh guided him to the doors of the auditorium. "By the skin of our teeth. Yesterday we got a lecture on microeconomics during prep."
"Ow."
"Yeah. CJ insisted he was getting it out of his system, but I was afraid he was just warming up."
Sam nodded. "It's happened before."
"More times than I care to remember."
At the sound of applause, he opened the door. The audience was on its feet, clapping as the President shook hands with the moderator. With one last wave, he disappeared backstage.
Josh pulled Sam down the aisle, weaving in and out of the departing crowd. The agent on the stage door opened it as they approached. Sam slowed as they walked through the wings to the green room.
"I…ah… You know, on second thought, maybe this isn't such a good idea."
"No, it's an excellent idea — which is saying a lot because I didn't think of it."
"We could wait until I get back to Washington," Sam suggested.
Josh stopped then, turning to face his friend. "Nothing is going to happen. I swear we're not planning to kidnap you and transport you across state lines. The President just wants to sit down and talk. No pressure, very low key." He read the doubt in Sam's eyes. "I promise."
Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right."
When they walked in, a photographer was taking pictures of the President with the Mayor of Los Angeles, the City Council, and members of the State Senate. Josh watched his smile warm from politely diplomatic to delighted when he saw Sam.
"Sam, it's good to see you," Leo said, crossing the room. As they shook hands, he looked at Josh. "It's okay, Josh, you can let go of him now."
Josh blinked, realizing he was still gripping Sam's arm. "Yeah, sorry," he murmured, letting go and trying to smooth out the creases he had left in the fine wool.
"Sam!" the President said, joining them as Charlie escorted the visitors to the door. "It's good to see you!"
"I just said that," Leo muttered.
"How have you been? You look well."
"I'm fine, sir."
"CJ tells me you've been sailing, is that right?"
Before Sam could answer, Charlie appeared behind the President. "Hey, Sam," he said, nodding casually. "Ron says we're ready to go, Mr. President."
The President nodded. "Sam, I'd like you to ride with me." Without giving him a chance to answer, he took hold of Sam's upper arm and guided him to the door. Before he was propelled out of the room, Sam shot a quick panicked look over his shoulder at Josh.
"Not two minutes ago, I told him this was going to be very low key," Josh complained to Leo as they followed, "and what's the first thing that happens? The President of the United States takes him hostage."
"Give him a break, Josh. He was worried Sam wouldn't show up."
"Not show up? This is Sam, for God's sake, Leo. If he says he'll be there, he'll be there!"
"The President knows that, but it still didn't keep him from worrying."
When they walked outside, the sounds of cheers and applause filled the spring night. President Bartlet waved, keeping Sam with him as he worked the rope line, enthusiastically shaking outstretched hands. His face lit up when he saw the "Bartlet for America" sign. Taking the proffered magic marker, he scribbled his signature on it.
"C'mon," Leo said, walking to the President's limousine. "He wants us to go with them."
Josh breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed in. CJ was babysitting the press until they returned to the hotel, but she had ordered him to stay close to Sam.
"Don't screw this up, Josh," she had hissed as they arrived at the venue.
"How could I possibly screw this up?" he demanded, lowering his voice when a few people glanced over at them.
"I can think of several ways, and it scares the hell out of me that you can't." She pulled him to the side. "Look, all you have to do is be supportive."
"Hey, I'm supportive!"
She stared at him until Josh wilted. "I'll do my best," he muttered.
"That's all we can hope for," she told him as Carol came up with a question. When she had answered it, she returned her attention to Josh. "I'm not kidding, bucko. We're all counting on you."
"No pressure, huh?" he had murmured as she headed off for the area set aside for the press.
When he followed the President into the limousine, Sam looked none the worse for wear, and Josh crossed off that worry from his list. There was one less thing to explain to CJ who had, without a doubt, noticed the President appropriating Sam.
"That went well, sir," Leo said as the car moved forward.
"You know, just once I wish you'd say it as if it weren't a surprise. As if you weren't expecting something to go wrong," the President complained. "When have we ever had a town-hall meeting bomb?"
Sam and Josh shared a look and immediately turned their attention to the passing scenery as Leo answered, "San Antonio."
"That was two years ago, Leo. I'm sure the statute of limitations is up. Besides, those people were adversarial and weren't going to vote for us anyway." The President turned his attention to Sam. "What did you think, Sam? Did you see any of it?"
"Some of it, sir. I thought your answers were right on point."
"I was thinking —"
Leo groaned, "Oh god, here we go."
With a glare for his Chief of Staff, the President repeated, "I was thinking we should do one of these every month or so. It would give us the chance to get our message out to the people we actually care about, instead of Congress."
"We still have one to go in Virginia. Why don't we sit down afterwards and evaluate that idea?" Leo suggested.
"Is that your way of saying, "No, Mr. President", Leo?"
"No, Mr. President."
There was a moment of silence before the President laughed. The other three men joined in, and the conversation returned to the meeting. They were still talking when they reached the hotel.