Out Here in the Fields - Part 2

Sam's in Toby's motel room, sitting at the computer while Toby paces
behind him.

"Say 'conflicted,'" Toby says. "No, no, say 'varying.' 'Disturbingly
varying.' What is that? I'm losing my mind here, Sam. Say 'conflicted.'"

"'Conflicting'?" Sam suggests.

"Yeah, okay," Toby says. "Hey, Josh."

"I want to talk to you guys about Miami," Josh says, sitting down. "I
want to dial down on guns, bump health care to the top and throw in
Cuba."

"Good idea," Toby says. "Guns didn't poll well?"

Josh pulls out the fax from Donna. "No," he says. "But we'll want to keep
bilingual education in the lower districts."

"That's in there," Sam says. "In the notes. We should talk about that
tomorrow while we're traveling. We can't do it tonight, Josh." There's
something cold in Sam's voice, probably overwork and lack of sleep.
They're all feeling this way.

"You working on Pittsburgh now?" Josh leans back in the chair and reaches
over the armrest to open the door of the mini fridge. There's beer
inside, and he cranes his arm around to grab one.

"Say 'conflicted,'" Toby says, pacing again. "'Conflicting,' is, like,
too many ings."

"I already changed it," Sam says. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Good," Toby says.

"Can I have this beer?" Josh asks, pulling his shirtsleeve over his hand
and unscrewing the bottlecap.

"You're staying?" Toby gives him a weird look. "We've got this draft to
do, Josh, get out of here."

"Oh, okay," Josh says, standing up. "I just thought -- I wanted to go
over these numbers."

"We'll do it in the van tomorrow," Toby says. "It's two hours to
Harrisburg and he's just shaking hands and kissing babies once we get
there."

"And doing a photo op with the Governor," Sam says.

"Whatever," Toby says. "Anyway, we've got time tomorrow to worry about
Florida. You should, like, sleep, Josh."

"We don't get to sleep," Sam says. "But certainly someone should."

"Yeah," Josh says, taking a long drink of the beer. "I'm gonna -- I've
got some stuff to go through, and Mandy's still working on --"

"Hey, did you talk to her? About the, you know, fact that she's a
lunatic?" Toby asks.

Josh nods. "I so can't wait to get out of Florida," he says.

"We're in Pennsylvania," Sam says.

"I know, I'm just saying, we do here, we do Florida, and then we're good
for a little while. I think the Governor's tired." Josh finishes the
beer, too fast, and sets the bottle down on top of the mini fridge. He
burps.

"Has Leo said anything?" Sam asks.

"Leo's tired too," Josh says. "This whole thing sucks." He hadn't
expected to say that. He sits down. "We're making fools of ourselves out
there."

"Yes," Toby says. "We are. And this is just the tip of the iceberg, in
terms of the total asses we're gonna make of ourselves before we're
done."

"Can we, like, is there any way for us to do this without making total
asses of ourselves?" Josh groans. "I kind of want to win this thing."

"Bartlet's never lost an election in his life," Sam says.

"And I've never won one," Toby says. "So there we are."

Josh stands up again. "I'm going to bed," he says. "Toby, we're talking
about the Florida numbers tomorrow. And good luck with the, you know,
thing."

"Why does this always happen to me, Josh?"

Mandy's in a black tank top and grey Cornell University sweatpants that
are too big, and she's sitting on the foot of the bed crosslegged,
looking up at him. Her eyes are wide and pained and her hair's a little
crazy and he thinks, not for the first time, that she looks like Audrey
Hepburn. He starts unbuckling his belt, kicking off his shoes.

"Why does what happen?" he asks, though he knows. She collapses backwards
on the bed.

"At DD&M they called me Mandy the Vampire Slayer," she says. "I raised
their revenue six million dollars in nine months. It's supposed to be a
joke, but it's not."

"Six million dollars in nine months, a firm that size?" Josh starts
unbuttoning his shirt. "Doesn't sound like a joke to me."

"Not that," she says, spitting the words at the ceiling. "The names, and
the relentless bickering, the whining, Josh, why do I take so much shit
just for doing my job?"

He sits down next to her and lays a hand on her stomach. "Hey," he says,
and doesn't really know what to say next.

"It really bothers me," she says. "Not enough for me to not want to win
this thing, not enough for me to not do what I do, but it pisses me off.
I have good ideas."

"I know you do," he says. He scoots her over on the bed a little so he
can lie down next to her on his stomach, his chin in his hands.

"Fix it, Josh," she says. "Please fix it? I hate that they talk to you
about me. Tell them to stop."

"Want me to fire everybody?" he laughs.

"Yeah," she giggles. "Would you? Fire everyone."

"I'll start with the Governor, how's that?" He rolls over to face her,
inches closer, wraps his arms around her.

"Maybe I'll run for President," she says. "Would you work on my campaign
if I ran for President?"

"Are you crazy?" he chuckles. "I'd leave the country if you ran for
President."

"Seriously," she says, wiggling out of his arms so she can slap off the
light. "Please help me with these people."

He wishes she'd stop calling them "these people." He wishes he weren't in
this position. He wishes she weren't so beautiful, lying there on her
side unblinking in the blue light coming in the window. He kisses her.

"Are we sleeping?" he asks.

"I can't make any more decisions today," she says, and he remembers from
somewhere that she's allowed to be tired of it all too.

"Okay," he says, and he leans in and kisses her again.

She's upset and he wants to fix things, the way his father always did.
This one time, when they were in Hilton Head and his mother was driving a
rental car, she got lost for an hour on the same beach roads, driving in
a circle, cursing herself. "I'm such an idiot, I can't believe it," she'd
said, over and over. "I'm such a goddamned idiot." His father had laughed
and lead Josh and Joanie in the score from Camelot, singing at the top of
their lungs as they drove around and around on the same beach roads.
Josh's father had missed a golf game with his boss for it, but he'd
managed to convince Josh's mother that it was okay, that she wasn't an
idiot, that he'd wanted to see the beach, that they were having fun. He
remembers it now and he's embarrassed for his mother, but, in the back
seat of the car, belting off-key duets with Joanie, he hadn't even known
they were lost.

"Mand," he says, quietly, reaching out an arm to find her cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Nobody hates you," he says.

"Oh, I don't care about them," she says. "I care about the Governor. I
care about this election. They can go to hell."

"Yeah," he says, lying. "Good."

"I care about you, Josh," she says. "They're not going to talk you into
hating me, are they?"

She's so vulnerable it terrifies him. He strokes her cheek, rolls her
toward him, slides his hand up inside her t-shirt. "Nah," he says. "Never
happen." At that moment, he almost believes it himself. "I love you," he
says.

That's always been something he says easily, "I love you," like it's a
compliment, like it has nothing to do with him. It's as easy as saying
"you're incredible," and he says them both often enough that he suspects
Mandy's bored and he wishes he had better things to tell her, to keep her
here.

"Whatever," she says, now. "That's not the point."

He doesn't want to talk anymore. He doesn't want to feel this way
anymore. He wants her to be happy; he wants to be happy. He wants her to
shut up.

It's too hot even on top of the covers but he draws her on top of him,
tracing the sides of her ribs under her shirt with both hands. "Is this
okay?" he asks.

"Stop asking things like that," she says. "Just...do what you're gonna
do."

"I want to make you happy," he says. He feels weak and stupid. "You want
-- you want to sing the score to Camelot?"

"No," she says with a smile, and she's got that face that reminds him he
wants to let her be stronger than he is. "I want you to fuck me."

At five on Thursday morning they're in a condo in Delray Beach. Donna had
found it and rented it on spec, and the first thing Josh did when they
got in and threw their suitcases on the floor was call her in New
Hampshire and compliment her on her astounding lack of taste.

It's actually two adjoined four-bedroom condos, with the First Family in
one, and Josh, Mandy, Sam, Toby and CJ in the other. There's a little
kitchen area, a sundeck, and a couple of assorted pieces of wicker
furniture that have been spraypainted white and that creak under Josh's
weight.

It's their last day in Florida, and Sam's making waffles. The Governor
had tried to help, but Sam had shooed him out of the kitchenette and back
into the living room, and now he and Mrs. Bartlet are sitting in wicker
armchairs while Mandy paces, bouncing around ideas for the radio
interview in Miami.

"I know these guys, they're shock jocks," CJ says, sitting on the couch
next to Josh. "They're going to give you a hard time regardless, so you
might as well try and play their game."

"Play their game, but don't let them patronize you," Mandy agrees, and
Josh nods. CJ throws him a look. "You have to tread this very fine line
between pretending to be cool and being a jerk," Mandy says.

"I'm not cool?" Bartlet raises his eyebrows. "You hear that, Abbey?"

"I've known it for years, darling," Abbey says, slapping him twice on the
knee. "But you're excellent at faking it."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Josh says. "Excellent might be stretching
the term a little bit, I mean, we're talking about the man --"

"Just don't tell these guys you read Herb Stein for fun," Mandy says.

"I wouldn't tell anyone you read Herb Stein at all," Toby says. "Seeing
as he was part of the Nixon administration, and, I think, at this
juncture in our campaign we might not want to make that connection just
yet."

"Herb Stein," Bartlet begins. "Is a genius. His theory of --"

"I don't even want to know," Toby throws his hands up. "Why are we
talking about Herb Stein?"

"You started it," Bartlet says to Toby.

"She started it," Toby nods toward Mandy.

"Not another word about Herb Stein!" Mandy presses a fist against her
forehead. "What I'm saying is that we've got to make sure you don't come
off like someone's crotchety old math teacher."

"I wrote you some stuff on soccer and some stuff on pop music, just in
case," Sam says, coming in with a plate of blackish waffles. "I've also
made waffles. And while they may look unattractive, I can assure you that
they taste...like waffles. I've eaten two myself."

"You're gonna drop dead before you're forty, Seaborn," CJ says. "I
thought you were a health nut."

"I used wheat flour," Sam says, sitting down.

"Herb Stein," Bartlet says, reaching for a waffle. "Said some very smart
things about government and economics. He said 'the government is no one.
There is nobody here but us people.' Don't you think that's something
that would interest drive-time listeners in the greater Miami area?"

"Not even a little, sir," CJ says. "Certainly not the listeners of the
Stu and Andie show. Who would rather hear Keanu Reeves making fart
jokes."

"I'm going on a program where I'm supposed to make fart jokes?" Bartlet
asks.

"No, sir," Mandy says. "But I was thinking a joke might not be bad.
Something relevant. Something to show your witty side."

"He has a witty side?" Mrs. Bartlet elbows her husband. "How
fascinating."

"I'm witty," Governor Bartlet says. "I'd just rather talk about Herb
Stein."

"If you say that name again, sir, I'm going to throw one of Sam's waffles
at you, I swear it," Mandy says.

"Watch out, Governor Bartlet," Toby says. "She'll do it."

Josh shifts in his seat and CJ meets his eye again and grins.

"I think you should do the Spanish joke," Mandy says. "The one Toby
wrote."

"That was a joke!" Sam says.

"I get that," Mandy says. "Which is why I'm saying --"

"No," Sam says. "I mean, it was a joke that he wrote that joke. He didn't
mean it seriously. As a joke."

"Do I have smoke coming out of my ears?" Josh asks.

"The Spanish joke was just a joke," Sam tries again, ignoring Josh and
looking at Mandy. "It was never meant to be in the thing."

"It's not even a very good joke," Toby agrees. "I was just feeling
punchy."

"I thought it was funny," Mandy says. "And you've got a bunch of
bilingual listeners. I think it'll go over."

"I don't know, Mandy," CJ says. "It's touchy. It could be weird."

"We've already got him on a trashy morning show," Mandy says. "He's got
to play the game or he'll look like a stodgy politician."

"I am a stodgy politician!" Bartlet says. "Now, will someone tell me
about the Spanish joke?"

"It was just a joke, sir!" Toby says.

"It was a sort of mildly offensive joke about the way Spanish sounds,"
Josh says. "You know, kids and Latin music and what's his name, the guy
with the fancy pants."

"I thought you were the guy with the fancy pants," CJ nudges Josh with a
knee. "But seriously, yeah, I think we should forget the Spanish joke."

"So do I," Toby says. "I hereby retract any Spanish joke I may have
written."

"No, listen to me!" Mandy says. "We're in south Florida, we're gonna be
talking about bilingual education, these people are on board with that,
we might as well try and get the younger voters too. I think we have to
do the Spanish joke."

"Mandy," Josh says, and she stops pacing. "I really don't think we
should. I think we'll --"

"This is exactly what you hired me for," she says. "I've been sussing out
these demographics for weeks. I know who's listening, and I know what we
need to do to get these people. This -- you gotta trust me on this one,
guys."

Everybody looks at Josh.

"Josh?" Bartlet asks, and Josh knows he's going to take shit from Mandy
because the Governor deferred to him.

"It's what we hired her for," Josh says. "But, Mandy, just to be clear
--"

"To be clear, we do the Spanish joke," Mandy says.

They do the Spanish joke at 7:30 in the morning in the drive-time block.
The DJs seem to like it. But that night on the local news,
nineteen-year-olds in silver tank tops cluck their tongues and shake
their heads. In Latin accents, they tell news reporters that Governor
Bartlet of New Hampshire is an asshole. The news bleeps out 'asshole' but
the anchors shake their heads at one another too, and a woman with a
Spanish-sounding last name suggests that Governor Bartlet of New
Hampshire might have a hard time getting his hands on the Latin American
vote in southern Florida. Nobody uses the word 'racist,' but then, they
don't have to.

Everything happens really fast, after that.

"You gotta know that I am this close to firing you," Leo says through his
teeth.

They're in the suite in Manchester, in the second bedroom that's been
converted into an office for Leo and sometimes Josh.

Josh sits at the desk chair and flattens his hands on his knees. "I
know," he says.

"No," Leo says, pacing. "I don't think you do, Josh. I don't think you
realize just how royally you fucked up."

"Mandy --" Josh begins, and then wishes he hadn't.

"Not Mandy," Leo says. "You. I didn't hire Mandy Hampton, Josh, I hired
you. You were in charge, down there."

"Yes, I was," Josh says, slipping into self-defense. "And I made an
executive decision to go with Mandy's strategy. She's --"

"She's your girlfriend, Josh!" Leo isn't going to let him finish a
sentence tonight, and Josh realizes he should probably stop trying. "And
that's already six kinds of complicated you shoulda been smart enough not
to get involved in. You guys dumb each other down like nobody's
business."

"I was involved with Mandy before I brought her to work for us," Josh
points out.

"Oh, I could care less about the finer points," Leo rolls his eyes.
"You're treading really thin ice, here, Josh. And I know you're still
having a rough time because of your dad --"

"My dad has nothing to do with it," Josh says, maybe too quickly.

Yeah," Leo says. "Forget about it. This isn't a -- forget it. Just sit it
out. We've gotta do this thing, we don't have any more time for fucking
around. So I don't want to hear another word out of you, because I can't
waste my time and the Governor's time wondering if I can trust your
judgment or not. You got it?"

"You can always trust me, Leo," Josh says.

"That," Leo says, swinging the door open into the living room. "Is an
outright lie."

It's like a punch to the gut, and Josh doesn't have anything to say in
response. He comes out with "uh huh," and nods, and follows Leo out of
the bedroom.

(continued in part 3/4)

Out Here in the Fields - 3

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