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Title: 10 Summoners Tales: Everybody laughed but You == Everybody laughed but You
CJ wipes the tears from her eyes: considering what's been happening around here over the past few days it's good to hear her laugh like this. She looks at me with incredulity and shakes her head. "That is so cruel...you look like such a nice person!" I feel as if I've known her a lot longer than the five days I have. "Nice is not a word I would suggest you use too often in your capacity as White House Press Secretary. Nice is a horrible word." "I like nice" "Where exactly were you educated, CJ?" "Berkeley, mostly." "English wasn't your major, was it?" Morag knocks and pokes her head around the half-opened door. It's Friday lunchtime and things are quiet: after the week's traumas most people have taken the opportunity to get out to eat, or simply to get away for a break. The bullpen is strangely bereft of bodies. "Excuse me?" CJ beams at my secretary. "Are you aware your boss leads a secret double life?" Morag rolls her eyes "I've always had my suspicions... Excuse me CJ: Ev, Leo wants to see you." Duty calls: I get up from CJ's sofa and throw the briefing notes back onto her desk. "We'll finish this on Monday. I'm going to buy you a dictionary for Christmas, or at least a thesaurus...try using some words with more than one syllable in the two o'clock, please?" "Just for you, Evelyn" "Only Joshua and my mother call me Evelyn, CJ" I leave the door open and head for Leo's office. My right shoulder aches, I should think about starting chiropractic care again. It's all the meetings I've sat through and taken notes in: I don't think I've written this much since college. The last five days have been a blur. Coming in on the tail end of the incident involving Maurice Tolliver, watching the President grapple with his first really personal loss in office, trying to limit the fall-out in the media has all been hard enough. The editorial that Max wrote on Wednesday could have been a personal and professional disaster, but in the end it was neither. I check my watch: in three hours the President will finally meet the now-triumphant Ryder Cup team. It's probably best for all concerned that they won in the way they did; the whole media buzz will be so much better as a result. Everyone gets something out of the experience: the team meets their President and their President pretends to like their sport. Well, that's the theory. Of course I'd have liked Europe to have beaten them. I always like to watch Americans getting beaten. I suppose it proves without a shadow of a doubt I'm not quite ready to consider American citizenship. Everybody's door is open today, a good sign. I knock anyway. Sam and Toby are inside with Leo, I assume going through some of the protocol for the arrival of the Japanese Trade Delegation next week. I'm getting a real kick at the way Sam smiles at me whenever I come into a room. "Good Afternoon, Sam" "Konnichiwa, Evie" Sam has been practicing. "These arrangements at the Japanese embassy are impressive, who's arm did you have to twist?" I smile at both him and his immediate superiors. "It pays to have friends everywhere" Toby looks directly at me "Nice job" he says. I assume this is as close to a compliment as I get from the Communications Director. "Is this in relation to something specific?" "You survived the week, I'm still talking to you. I'd consider that an achievement" Toby makes me laugh. I turn to the Chief of Staff: "Leo, Morag said you wanted me?" "The Counsels' Office needs to see you before you go tonite." "You promised me yesterday I would not have to spend any more time with Tribbey..." "He assures me it'll take no more than a couple of minutes." "You believe him?" "It's okay, he doesn't like you either" "Well, that's a relief" Leo and I have worked well this week: he's helped me on more than one occasion beat down Josh, who started out as plain awkward and has now graduated to surly but compliant. I wonder if he's going to grant my request of earlier in the day. "Anything else? I should try and finish up the proposal details on the fundraisers before I go tonight" Leo hands me the folder I asked for, and is careful not to show its front cover to Toby and Sam: frankly, they aren't taking any notice anyway. I glance at it and mouth a silent "thanks" to him. As I'm leaving Sam calls after me "We're going for a beer at six, you wanna come?" I accept the invitation without thinking and head back to my office. == I sit behind my desk and wade through Josh's FBI file. Leo's left me a hand-written message inside: he's looking the other way for an hour, I'm not allowed to copy anything but I can make notes. I need to better understand my enemy in order to conquer him. This whole problem would appear to begin the night of the Texas Primary. The fact that the President lost in the way that he did was big news, and Max's piece in the Times ended up being carried around the world. Suddenly he went from Press Corps extra to big-name journalist, by the simple expedient of telling it like it was. I remember CJ being interviewed after the article was published. "Constructive criticism is a good thing for the Bartlet Campaign" CJ's very good at understatement. Max managed in some way to redeem his status with the pieces he wrote after Illinois, and by largely keeping a low profile, but by the time the hoopla arrived at the Democratic Convention he was drinking a lot and causing trouble on the bus. To this day I don't know exactly what passed between Josh and Max that night but whatever it was caused Max to have all his privileges pulled the next day and saw him skulk back to NY with his tail between his legs. I suspect a lot of it was personal, and very little about politics. There were rumours that Josh's low profile for the days following the Convention were due to the fact that Max had given him a black eye, and was nothing to do with his new-found girlfriend. Looking at the FBI file it transpires that this wasn't far from the truth. Morag knocks. We have an arrangement: as I can't see who's outside in this office we have a specific knock for each day so I know it's her. Two small, one loud. "Yes?" Morag has a mug of what smells like peppermint tea: I've drunk way too much coffee this week. She doesn't open the door the whole way. "This is interesting." "What's interesting?" "Josh's secretary wants to see you" "What does he need?" "No, I think she actually wants to talk to you herself" I put Josh's file away and ask Morag to send her in. Donna Moss is annoyingly beautiful: pale skin, long, perfect blonde hair, not a strand out of place. She is wearing a flattering pants and blouse combination. It took me precisely five minutes to discover that she's an influential person in the Bullpen and beyond, and that Josh would be totally incapacitated without her. For her to come to me under her own steam is an interesting development. She sits down quickly, placing her hands together in her lap. She looks straight at me. I look at her over the top of my glasses with amused interest. "What can I do for you, Donna?" "You know, he really does like you, he just doesn't realise it yet" "I assume you're referring to Joshua?" "He's always like this to start with. It was like this when I first started working for him on the Campaign. It just takes him a while to get used to you" I decide to push her for an opinion. "How do you think I've performed this week?" She thinks for a while before answering. "The thing with the Ryder Cup team is good" WHERE did these people go to school? "Anything else?" Donna looks down at her hands and then up at me. "Carol says that CJ thinks Sam did exactly the right thing persuading Leo to see you. Ginger says Toby hasn't had anything bad to say about you all week. When he read what Max Ellersley said in the New York Times on Wednesday Leo said he'd made the right choice. Margaret told me he actually 'phoned the paper himself and asked for a copy." Well, I didn't know that. Max scores another point for our side. "So, basically...what you're saying is that everyone likes me, except Josh" Donna looks genuinely concerned, and not a little perturbed. She stands. "He will get to like you, he just needs time" "Donna, I don't have that much time to wait" She is heading for the door, but before she leaves I want to see if she'll be honest with me. "Donnatella Moss" The use of her full name has the desired effect. She stops and looks at me. "What about you? How do you feel about me working here?" She gives me a long look, which I can't quite work out. "I wish Josh liked you as much as I do" She bolts out of the office like a scalded cat. In a few seconds Morag is at the door, looking at me quizzically. "What was all that about, then? "She came here to tell me how much everyone else likes me except Josh" "I thought we'd established that fact pretty early on Monday" I take a large swig of cooling peppermint tea and consider my next move. == CNBC is running the piece I did earlier in the week for the BBC. A Brit in a Senior White House post is a big story on the other side of the pond, at least until something more newsworthy happens. It also helps if the woman concerned is the daughter of an MP whose views are as far removed from President Bartlet as is probably possible. It's official, my father is a lunatic, and now the entire population of the United States can see that for themselves. I'm with Sam and Toby, watching the interview in the Communications Bullpen. Toby stands with his arms crossed. "What do you think Toby?" "I'm thinking fascist. Are you sure this man's your father?" "I have my doubts. If it's any comfort we haven't spoken since the 80's" The Communications Director takes a long look at me. "You aren't like him at all" "Why, thank you." Sam is shaking his head in amazement "People voted for this guy?" "About 29,000 of them apparently. He's a hero in his constituency, you know" I am getting more and more uncomfortable with this particular public airing of my life. It's my first real taste of spotlight: it'll take time but I'll get used to it eventually. They show a picture of my mother. She's just taken over the Arts Faculty Chair at Warwick University. "You look a lot like her" Toby comments. "Fortunately for me and the rest of my family she's the one with the dominant genes" I did the interview with Elizabeth Batty in the Roosevelt Room. I look thinner on TV. Sam opens his mouth and I stick my hand over it. "You mention any resemblance to a famous British film actress and I'll slap you" I can't stay here: I'm going to see Tribbey instead, which will make me feel only slightly less uncomfortable. == I'm watching President Bartlet posing with a bunch of golfers and their wives from a vantage point across from the Mural Room. The whole thing is going worryingly well, and the President hasn't yet strayed from the impromptu remarks Sam has made for him. So far, so good. The room is a mass of flashbulbs; CJ stands to one side directing the traffic. She gives me the briefest of looks, just a quick smile to tell me it's okay, we're repairing the damage. She and I are pretty much on the same wavelength, which bodes well for our working relationship in the future. I'm going to her place to watch videos on Saturday night and drink heavily, something I've not done with another woman for a long time. I'm really rather looking forward to it. I'm aware of Josh coming to stand next to me, a little way behind. He doesn't say anything; he just stays out of my immediate line of sight and watches what's happening in the Mural Room. I self-consciously check my watch: 4.45. If I'm going to go and drink with him in an hour or so I might think about engaging him in some kind of constructive discourse. He beats me to it. "So what is it with you and Max then...?" I turn back to face him. "In what sense?" "That's a pretty powerful piece he wrote about you, and us" "I didn't think you were going to read it" "Leo said I should. I'm glad I did" This is the longest polite conversation we've had all week. "Can I talk to you?" Wonders will never cease. "Your place or mine?" == Josh's office looks like a bombsite: how does one man accumulate so much clutter? I'd go mad working in an environment like this, but Josh seems to thrive surrounded by chaos. I'm sitting here waiting for the Deputy Chief of Staff to return with a drink, it seems Donna has a thing about fetching Josh coffee. It's a weird relationship this man has with his secretary, in some ways it's almost too professional, in others you'd swear they were married. She's got a crush on him, I'm sure of it. The best working relationships always have a dash of sexual tension thrown in: in my experience it's when you mistake that frisson of excitement for something else that the real problems occur. Josh is too wrapped up in all this to have a life anyway; it would take someone pretty spectacular to pull him away from it all. Donna is obviously clever, she's undoubtedly attractive...but there's something missing. My life must be improving if I can start thinking about other people's sex lives. Josh comes back into the office with a coffee and a mineral water; he stands in the doorway and hands the bottle to me. "Max 'phoned me earlier" So this is what this is all about. "He said he's an asshole" "Which I'm sure you were happy to agree with" "He said he didn't want me to take out my anger on you for what happened..." "So...?" He's looking directly at me, something he's not been happy to do all week. I ask him again: "What did you say?" "Everyone else likes you" It's a start, I suppose. "I take time to get used to new things." "You make me sound like a car" He drinks his coffee; I take a long swig from the bottle. Silence. My turn again. "When I did my little introductory speech on Monday in the Bullpen, when I did the joke: everybody laughed but you didn't." "It was a lame gag" "Still, I notice these things. It's the little things that matter; and as most of the big stuff here's out of my hands that's what I see as important. The big stuff is what you guys are here for. I just get paid to come in and make it look good." "Can you get Max to write a couple more complimentary editorials?" "We have an agreement. I don't talk about his work and he doesn't ask about mine" For the first time this week Josh smiles at me. "I thought you'd be like Mandy" "I'm hoping you're now happy that I have absolutely nothing in common with your ex-girlfriend?" "You're undoubtedly taller" "So, is this going to work? Or should I start looking for a new job now?" He stares into space, considering. "I'll let you know" "...in about six months? I look forward to it." I get up and walk out of the office. I'm halfway across the bullpen when he shouts to me. "Evie!" We're making progress. "Yes Josh," "You've done good things this week" "Thank you" "I'll see you in the lobby at six" I think this is going to work out just fine.
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