Better Than Perfect

by: Ygrawn

Character(s): Josh and Donna, with some ensemble
Pairing(s): J/D
Category(s): Romance, Humor
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don’t own Josh and Donna et al. There are references to real people herewith, and I don’t own them either.
Summary: It's Josh and Donna's Assistant Anniversary. Josh has plans. As usual, they don't work.
Author's Note: I’m Australian, and this was begun before Bartlet’s 3rd SotU. This swaps between Josh and Donna’s POV, and starts with Josh’s. And for reasons that will soon become obvious, 17 People and the disputed anniversary didn't happen.

Just after the campaign began, Leo’s assistant of seven years, Jean, decided to retire. He interviewed nearly fifteen women before he found Margaret.

Toby and I sat in on the interviews, and Leo is damn picky. He thought the interviewees were too abrupt, too flaky, too quiet, too young, or not enough of something. After five hours, I was ready to strangle Leo and blame Toby.

Margaret’s appointment was at three-thirty, but she arrived at three o’clock, and waited outside Leo’s office. He saw her through his open door, whilst we waited for another woman who was running twenty minutes late.

“Sorry for the wait,” Leo apologized.

Margaret smiled cheerfully. “I don’t think you create a very good impression by being late. It’s always better to be early.”

Leo is like Stalin when it comes to punctuality, and it’s my personal opinion that Margaret got the job right then and there.

“Are you ready now?” he asked her.

“Certainly, Mr. McGarry.” She stepped into the office. “I’m Margaret Whelan. And just to let you know, the woman handling your phones just told Senator Kennedy’s office you were too busy to speak to him.”

“She what?” Toby said, in that soft, deadly voice he’s perfected.

“That was Senator Kennedy’s assistant on the other line. I know Sandra - we worked together. I can get Senator Kennedy back on the phone, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that very much, Margaret,” Leo said. “And you have the job.”

Margaret tilted her head. “You don’t want to interview me, Mr. McGarry?” “It’s Leo, and I’m don’t need to interview you, Margaret. You’re hired.”

Three minutes later, Margaret was re-organizing Leo’s desk and asking if Senator Kennedy was free. Leo’s been a nicer person since. No, really - he has.

Sam’s first assistant on the campaign was a woman called Fifi L. Wilde, although I the term ‘assistant’ loosely. She had trouble answering the phone and chewing gum at the same time and her filing system was based on wherever she was standing when she had the piece of paper in her hand.

Fifi wasn’t her real name. She was born Sarah-Jane, but she wanted to be a movie star, and needed a name that screamed ‘famous’.

Don’t ask what the L stood for.

Sam inherited Fifi at Gage Whitney. She started in probate, but within a month, was shuffled through mergers and acquisitions, accounting, and pro bono, before she was fobbed off on Sam, who didn’t have the heart to fire her.

So, when we recruited Sam, Fifi came along.

Three weeks after they arrived, I took Sam to lunch whilst Leo fired Fifi for failure to perform any of her job functions. Sam returned to find the phone ringing and nobody answering it. “Nothing’s changed,” he shrugged.

Sam survived without an assistant until after the election, when he hired Kathy, because his friend knew somebody whose cousin’s teacher’s podiatrist’s dog’s vet...you get the picture. Somebody knew Kathy was looking for a job.

Of all the assistants, Kathy is the most qualified, with a Masters in Early Modern European History. This is one of Sam’s argument trump cards with Toby, who replies that his assistant doesn’t steal his food.

Oh, and it stood for Lavyrle.

Bonnie was also hired when we reached the White House. She and Toby have a clearly defined relationship: she takes care of the administration work, and keeps his work environment as distraction-free as possible, and he tries not to piss her off.

The story of Toby and Ginger is very different.

After we won the nomination and asked Hoynes to be Veep, we went to his headquarters to discuss strategy. Toby was walking down a hallway when he ran into a sobbing Ginger. She mumbled something, then hurried towards the bathroom.

This is the part of the story Bonnie and Ginger love, and Toby hates.

“Toby was,” Bonnie says, every time she tells her part, “So concerned about Ginger that he went into the ladies bathroom after her.”

At this point, Ginger takes up the tale, whilst Toby bellows something about running the country instead of exchanging pointless chitchat.

Ginger ignores him. “He handed me his handkerchief under the door, and said he was Toby Ziegler, Bartlet’s Communications Director. Then he asked why I was crying. I said nothing. And what did Toby ask me next?” Ginger always pauses for effect. “He asked if I was crying because of Hoynes’ social security policy!”

The rest of the story goes like this: one of Hoynes’ cronies put his hand on Ginger’s ass after she made it clear she didn’t want to go out with him. Ginger, a true Jersey girl, promptly kneed him in the groin. Outraged, she went to her boss.

Hoynes told Ginger if she wanted to keep her job, she’d keep quiet. Toby ran into Ginger after she’d emerged from Hoynes’ office, bawling her eyes out.

When Ginger told him what had happened, Toby went to town.

He told Hoynes that if he ever tried to cover up something as serious as sexual harassment again, Toby would personally destroy Hoynes’ career so completely, he wouldn’t be able to run for President of the Georgetown Elementary PTA.

Then, Toby offered Ginger a job as his assistant. Between them, Kathy, Bonnie and Ginger run the Communications Department, and Hoynes’ staffers don’t sneeze in each other’s direction without checking with their boss that it’s okay.

Toby is Ginger’s hero, Ginger is Toby’s symbol of the good fight.

When CJ joined the campaign, she poached Carol from the AFL-CIO, and the brunette is now the darling of the pressroom. After CJ, obviously.

Although her spelling leaves a lot to be desired, she knows the three words in English that start with ‘ky’, so the President approves of her. She also knows the editors of every major newspaper and television network in alphabetical order.

All up, Margaret, Cathy, Carol, Bonnie and Ginger have worked for seven Members of Congress, a newspaper, three press secretaries, a handful of lobby groups and a Secretary of Defence. They have two Bachelors of Arts; a Bachelor of Public Relations (Carol); a Bachelor of Commerce (Bonnie), and Kathy’s Masters in Early Modern European History.

And then there’s Donna.

****

It’s our anniversary. Our Assistant Anniversary. It’s three years since Donna started working for me. Or, since she was assigned to me by ‘Betsy’, overstated things, and took over my life.

Here’s an idea of what’s expected of me today.

Leo took Margaret to lunch at Salieri’s. Toby gave Ginger and Bonnie their the day off and treated them to an Elizabeth Arden spring day. I was surprised he knew who Elizabeth Arden was, let alone the fact that spring days do not refer to the days that fall between March 1st and May 31st. Sam gave Kathy a giant donut, and took her to Madame Butterfly. CJ took Carol to the ballet.

Assistant anniversaries are important in our office, and I know Donna expects me to top the others, so she can claim to have the best boss in the building.

Lunch at Salieri’s would send me into overdraft; if I voluntarily gave Donna the day off the world would come to an end; and I hate the opera and ballet and I won’t sit through either of them, even to please Donna.

Until three days ago, I thought I was screwed. Then I had a flashing light bulb and came up with a plan. I even passed said plan by my mother, so it isn’t one of those half-cocked Joshua Lyman ideas that end badly.

I have organized flowers. Lots and lots and lots of flowers, to be delivered to our bullpen first thing in the morning, so they’re there when she arrives.

I am giving Donna a raise. I discussed it with Leo a month ago, and Margaret organized the paperwork, pending approval from the Budget Committee.

I’m taking her to dinner at St. Jude’s, because Donna’s been bugging me to take her there for months.

After dinner, I’m taking her to the opening night of the New York Philharmonic playing Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. It still disconcerts me to listen to music, but I can sit through that for Donna.

Finally, I’m giving her jewellery.

If that doesn’t make Donna the happiest woman in D.C., I can only think of one other thing I could give her that would do that. And even though I’m certain she’d be the happiest woman ever if I gave her that, we can’t go there.

Really. We can’t.

********

I woke up this morning with a fluttery feeling in my stomach, and practically bounded out of bed into the shower. Pathetic, right?

Mock all you want to, but this is my - our - day.

I have to maintain my standing as the Girl with the Best Boss in the Building, and if Josh lets me down, I will never speak to him again.

Except to tell him when he’s late for Senior Staff. And to let him know who’s on line one, because that’s part of my job description. And to warn him when CJ or Leo is on the warpath. I just won’t banter with him. Well, maybe a little, if he needs cheering up, because an Unhappy Josh makes an Unhappy Donna. And...

Yes, I’m pathetic.

I washed my hair last night; I’m wearing my most-expensive suit and my best shoes; I’ve put on the extortionately expensive perfume that I only wear on very special occasions, and I’m wearing my very best jewellery.

I avoid the cats as I eat breakfast so I don’t get fluff on my stockings, and I’m so deliriously happy, I sing along with the radio all the way to work and laugh at the breakfast shows, instead of berating them for their political inaccuracies as I usually do. I don’t even stop smiling and singing when I reach Dupont Circle.

I hum all the way through security, and I smile brightly at all the people I pass in the corridors, even the people who work in Hoynes’ office.

I know it’s only our Assistant Anniversary. He’s probably not going to tell me that he appreciates me, because displays of emotion make Josh uncomfortable.

But I don’t care! I get to legitimately hug my boss today.

I walk past CJ’s office, planning to greet her and Carol and revel in the knowledge that today is my - our - day. However, they’re not there, which is odd.

I look over to the Communications bullpen. I can see other staffers, but no Bonnie, Ginger or Kathy.

Curiouser and curiouser.

I backtrack, and glance down the hall to Leo’s office, and discover that Margaret is also missing. Frowning, I head back down the corridor and turn into the Operations bullpen.

And stop dead in my tracks.

Oh...dear...God. There are...condoms.

Everywhere. And I mean everywhere. On my desk, on the filing cabinet, garnishing my computer, surrounding the phone, scattered around my desk and in front of Josh’s door. I can see all the colours and patterns of the rainbow.

And there are flavours.

Who knew they made an aniseed-flavoured condom? Who would want to...I’m not finishing that sentence. I can even see one that apparently glows in the dark...I’m not finishing that thought.

I’m vacillating between humiliation, confusion, and the desire to seek and destroy whoever did this. The desire to seek and destroy is the strongest.

At least I now know where everyone is. They’re standing around my desk, in various stages of horror (the assistants), confusion (Sam), and amusement (Toby). CJ looks ready to kill somebody.

“Donna,” Margaret says, catching sight of me.

“Morning,” I manage. “Um...what...what is all this?”

“We don’t know,” Kathy answers. “We were hoping you would.”

I look over Ginger’s head at CJ. In unison, we say, “Josh.”

****

I’m storming down the hall towards the Oval Office thirty seconds later, when Josh emerges from the outer office.

“Joshua Lyman!” I bellow.

“Donnatella!” Josh smiles, looking inordinately pleased with himself. The bastard is strutting down the hallway! “You saw them.”

“Oh yes,” I answer, reaching him. I stand in his personal space, my nose practically touching his. “What were you thinking Joshua Lyman?”

He shrugs, now wearing a self-satisfied smirk. It’s smirk No. #5: I already know I’m brilliant; you don’t have to tell me. “I knew you’d like them.”

I drop my voice to its lowest octave. “Like them?”

Josh’s expression falters, as he realizes that he may have done something wrong. “That’s okay Donna, you can thank me later,” he says, his voice slowing.

I am going to kill him. Right in front of Andy, the Secret Service Agent standing at the outer office door, five metres away from us. “Is it supposed to be some kind of joke? I’m not laughing, Josh. Are you trying to humiliate me?”

Now his expression is confused and hurt. “Donna, what are you talking about? I...I thought you’d be thrilled.”

“Th - thrilled?!” I think I’m shrieking. “Of all the things...today of all days...I...I...” I can’t form words. I have been rendered speechless by condoms.

I grab Josh’s elbow and manhandle him towards his office. We turn the corner into our bullpen, where everybody is still staring.

Josh stops up short. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he says faintly.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” I correct. “Now, please explain.”

He looks at me, then back at my desk. “Those are not supposed to be there.”

“I should damn well hope not.”

“There are supposed to be flowers,” he tells me, looking crestfallen. “Not 450 million...” he gestures towards them. “But flowers. Roses, and lilies and carnations

and other flowers I don’t know the names of. There must have been a mix-up.” “A mix-up? You didn’t get me...” I gesture to them, “For our anniversary?”

“Of course not,” Josh replies in a horrified and slightly insulted tone. “Why would I get you...” he gestures, “Those?”

The man ordered me flowers. Roses and lilies, and other flowers he doesn’t know the names of, because he can barely tell the difference between a conifer and a fern. And there was a mix-up. It’s so terribly Josh-like, and I feel a hug coming on.

Which is why Leo chooses now to walk around the corner into our bullpen.

“Where the hell is every...” he stops, seeing where everyone is. “What are you all doing? In case you hadn’t noticed, we have...condoms,” Leo finishes, staring at my desk in abject horror.

Margaret shakes her head. “No, Donna has condoms.”

“They’re from Josh,” Kathy adds.

I never did like Margaret or Kathy.

********

Leo rounds on me, and I just know he’s going to yell.

“Why are there thousands of...” Leo gestures wildly, “All over Donna’s desk?”

I’m distracted by Donna’s perfume, and Sam, Toby and CJ are congregated at my office door watching with unbridled glee. “Uh...” I begin.

“There was a mix-up,” Donna saves me. “Josh ordered flowers for me, but there was some kind of mix-up, and I got those...” she gestures, “Instead.”

Leo raises an eyebrow. “Somebody confused...those, with flowers?” Then it occurs to him. “You ordered Donna flowers? Why would you do that?”

“It’s their Assistant Anniversary today,” Carol informs Leo.

Leo hesitates for a moment, before he seems to accept things. What else can he say? The Operations bullpen, in front of everyone, isn’t the place to ask whether I gave Donna 450 million condoms because I want to do...that...with my assistant.

Which I don’t. Want to have sex with Donna that is. I can see a condom that glows in the dark. It...oh, wow.

Leo is talking, and I tear my mind away from the gutter it just dropped into. “Those...things can’t sit there all day, Josh,” he says.

“Obviously,” I concur. “I’ll call the gift store.”

Leo nods. “Good. Get back to work. Margaret, do you think you could answer my phones? That is the job you’re paid to do.” Leo looks at me. “Josh, can I see you in about an hour?”

“Sure.”

Everyone returns to work, although CJ gives me a rather pointed look before she does. Finally, Donna and I are left alone. With the condoms.

Donna surveys her desk. “I can’t work at it like this, can I?”

“You could try working around them,” I suggest, stepping forward to stand beside her. I look at the pile of Trojans sitting on top of the South East Asia Economic Report for the last quarter. “Tangerine?” I ask with amusement.

Donna reaches across me and picks up a pink one. “Cotton candy.”

I grab it from her. “No way.” She’s right. “Coffee,” I trump, collecting the brown-wrapped condom from Donna’s keyboard.

Donna grins, holding up a red package. “Midori.” She arches her eyebrows, and manages to look both disdainful and wildly erotic at the same time.

Did I just say that my assistant was wildly erotic? “You couldn’t use that one, Josh,” Donna continues. “Being such a lightweight and all.”

I start speaking before I stop myself. “It wouldn’t matter, anyway. You’d be...” I stop, realizing what I was about to say. “We need to get rid of them.”

She has an odd expression on her face, but she nods. “You call the gift store. I’ll get a box for them or something.”

I pluck the Midori condom from her fingers. “I’ll keep that one.”

********

“I know,” Josh says impatiently into the phone, his decibel level rising. “Yes, I understand there was a mix-up in orders. I told you that three minutes ago.”

I’m putting the condoms in a box, although I keep stopping and marvelling at the flavours: popcorn, treacle, and chocolate. And I didn’t imagine it...there was a glow-in-the-dark one. I pocket it.

“What do you mean you gave my flowers to someone else? Get them back!” Josh is running his hands through his hair. “At least come and collect the damn things! I’m the White House Deputy Chief of Staff - I can’t have prophylactics just lying around the office. Congressmen, lobbyists, and the press visit me here. What if the President walks past?” Josh’s eyes almost fall out of his head. “I’d be fired.

“And who orders that many condoms?” I think the guy on the other end attempts to answer that question. Josh cuts him off. “What are you going to do about this?” Josh sighs. “Fine, I’ll accept a refund. What am I supposed to do with...them?”

And suddenly, Josh is smiling. “Thank you very much,” he says, putting the phone down. He is chuckling softly. But in mere seconds, he is bent almost double, clutching onto the desk and practically dying from laughter.

“Josh?” I ask in alarm.

He struggles for air. “The guy from the gift store just gave me the perfect idea of how to get rid of...” he gestures weakly, still laughing, “Those.”

****

Josh and I put the gift store man’s idea into action, and finally start working. Every time I go to look for something though, I invariably come across another condom I missed when I packed them up.

You’d think that it being our Assistant Anniversary, Josh would lighten the workload. But he’s got me doing research on six different topics, hunting for dirt on a Republican he wants to sic, and I’ve got a stack of memos to type.

I’m over at the filing cabinet trying to find a file when the phone rings. “Joshua Lyman’s office.”

“Could I please speak to Mr. Lyman?”

I close the filing drawer with my hip. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Ava Martin from St. Jude’s.”

“If you could - ” Then I realize what St. Jude’s is. It’s an expensive and exclusive restaurant I have repeatedly told Josh I want to go to “May I ask what this is regarding, Ms. Martin?”

“Mr. Lyman has a booking with us this evening.”

Josh is taking me to St. Jude’s for dinner. The condoms are forgotten. I am still the Girl with the Best Boss in the Building.

“I’ll just see if he’s available,” I tell the woman. “Josh,” I call, through his open doorway. “There’s a call on line one.”

I deliberately don’t tell him who it is. He wanted it to be a surprise, and I’m more than happy to comply.

********

I pick the phone up. “Josh Lyman,” I say.

“Mr. Lyman, it’s Ava Martin from St. Jude’s.”

I lower my voice. “You weren’t supposed to contact me at the office.”

I left strict instructions about that. Donna knows everything about me. Keeping all of my plans for today from her has been an exercise in subterfuge. It’s just fortuitous that I’m brilliant at that.

“I’m sorry,” Ava says apologetically, “But it’s an emergency.”

No, no, no, no. “What do you mean by an emergency?”

Ava sighs. “We had a visit from the health inspector this morning.”

My stomach sinks. “Don’t tell me you’ve been closed down,” I beg.

“I’m sorry Mr. Lyman.”

“You’re one of the most exclusive restaurants in town.”

“It was a snap inspection,” Ava says. “We were behind on a few things.”

I have a brainwave. “I can make some calls - get this all cleared up.”

Ava sighs again. “That’s the thing. It was Mr. McGarry who asked the Board to give us a snap inspection.”

It takes me a second to process. “Leo closed you guys down?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry Mr. Lyman.”

“That’s okay,” I say, not meaning it. The woman’s about to burst into tears. If I say something snappy, I’ll have to deal with a weepy, apologetic woman, and I have no experience with them.

“Anyway,” she says, taking hold of herself. “We apologise for the inconvenience. We’ve been put on probation, and we’ll be open again soon. You can have dinner on the house.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Yeah, I’m going to eat at a restaurant closed down by a Health Inspector. Have I got stupid stamped on my forehead?

I look through my office door and see Donna doing that thing when she pretends she’s not listening to me. She’s typing, but she has her head half-cocked, waiting for the sound of me hanging up. I do so, and she twists to look at me.

She’s beaming. Her bright, all-is-right-with-the-world-and-you-are-a-good-man-Joshua-Lyman beam. The beam I rarely get from Donna.

It’s the smile that makes my heart go bouncing around like I’m thirteen again, and I’ve got sweaty palms because I’m sitting next to Laura Mackenzie in English and her hair keeps brushing my shoulder. Except that Laura’s got nothing on Donna.

She’s beaming at me, and I don’t want her to be. I am a dead man. Donna stands up and steps into my office. “You’ve got a meeting with Leo,” she reminds me, still beaming.

Condoms and a snap health inspection.

“Meeting. Leo,” she says, waving a hand in front of my face.

“Yeah.”

“Is something wrong?” Donna asks, her brilliant beam fading slightly.

“No,” I lie, standing and hunting around for my jacket.

Donna picks it up from one of the visitor’s chairs and helps me into it. She smoothes the collar down and straightens my tie. “There. Perfect.”

“I know,” I grin.

She hits me on the shoulder. “Remind me to book a separate room for your ego when we next go away.”

“Who could maintain any kind of ego with you as their assistant?”

“You, apparently,” Donna fires back.

“You know Kathy never picks on Sam like this.”

“But she steals his donuts.”

“And brings him coffee.”

“If Sam was an egotistical, stubborn tyrant, I’m sure Kathy wouldn’t bring him coffee.”

I frown. “You don’t bring me coffee because you think I’m a tyrant?” Donna nods, standing close enough for me to count the spray of tiny freckles across her nose. “I bet Mussolini’s assistant brought him coffee.” My voice is low and soft - I don’t know why I’m counting, but I’m up to ten freckles.

“Mussolini probably killed her,” Donna counters, her voice similarly low. Her fingers curl around my collar slightly.

Twenty. “She brought him decaf one too many times.”

“Probably.” She sounds almost drowsy. “Josh?”

“Mm?” Twenty-eight.

“Leo. Meeting.”

The name ‘Leo’ makes me realize that I’m standing mere millimetres from my assistant, counting the freckles on her nose.

I step back. “Leo. Meeting,” I say, exiting my office. I shoot her a backward glance and see her leaning against the doorframe, looking flustered.

Donna has thirty-four freckles on her nose.

********

What the hell was that?

One minute I’m straightening Josh’s tie - a fairly regular occurrence, considering how badly he pulls at it - and the next, I’m close enough to kiss him. Plus, he was staring at my nose, obviously transfixed.

And now I’m flustered.

I’ve spent the last three years making sure that Josh and I never come close enough for anything to happen. Sure, we’ve had our moments - moments with delicious, magical electricity.

And we also have the banter. Let me tell you that banter is the most underrated but most spectacular form of foreplay.

But as much as I’ve created that barrier, I’m constantly breaking it. It’s too easy to do that with Josh: he’s funny and needy and charming and intelligent and magnetic. People are always drawn to Josh, me included.

Josh is also very tactile. He puts his hand on my elbow; he guides me in and out of rooms with a hand at the small of my back; he walks with his arm around my waist when he’s orchestrated a victory.

But I’ve noticed that when he touches CJ, or Carol - or even Sam - it’s not the same. His hand doesn’t linger on CJ’s elbow; he doesn’t keep his arm around Carol’s waist. And he sure as hell doesn’t stand millimetres away from Sam, staring at his nose. Although, there was that one time, but they were drunk and Josh doesn’t remember it, and Sam made me swear never to say anything.

I’ve admitted to myself that Josh also breaks those boundaries by touching me that way, although for three years, I’ve refused to wonder why he does it.

So, we spend weeks circling around each other with our banter and Josh’s escalating touch, trying very hard to keep things as professional.

Then boom and all those other stupid noises they used in old Batman episodes. We have a moment, I get flustered and retreat, and remind myself why doing anything with Josh is a terrible idea. Right at the top of the list that includes sleeping with a call girl, trusting Ann Stark, and taking on Karen Cahill.

But that, just then didn’t feel like one of our mostly-harmless moments.

It felt like total, wanton abandon, which is another one of those terrible ideas. Only I can’t think of it like that. I keep thinking of the mercuric light in Josh’s eyes when he was looking at me just then.

And I suddenly realize I’m completely screwed.

********

Margaret smiles when I arrive at her desk. “Josh, how are you?”

“Good, thanks Margaret. And you?”

“I’m okay, but my sister Jane rang me last night, and it turns out that this strawberry jam I buy - you can only get in Annapolis, but I make the trip anyway, and sometimes Jane makes it for me - it turns out that...” she trails off. “Josh?”

I smile at her. I like Margaret. I really do. “Is Leo busy?”

“He’s on a call. He should be done in a minute.” Margaret returns to typing for a second, before asking, “What did you do with those...things?”

“Mm?” I realize she’s talking about the condoms. “We got rid of them. But Donna keeps finding spares if you want to...” I trail off. Margaret must have sex, right? She’s giving me a look. “Think Leo’s finished?”

Margaret knocks on Leo’s door before opening it. Margaret stops me with a hand on my arm before I enter. “Tell Donna I’ll come by after lunch. If she’s got spares,” Margaret shrugs, closing the door behind her.

“I have to go.” Leo hangs up. “Josh, take a seat.”

“Did you close down my restaurant?” I ask, sitting down.

“What?” Leo asks with confusion.

“St. Jude’s. Did you close it down?”

His face clears. “Yeah, I took Mallory there for lunch last week. The place was atrocious so I made some calls. They’ve been closed down, huh?”

“Snap inspection this morning,” I inform him. “So, thanks to your community-minded gesture, I’ve got nowhere to take Donna for dinner.”

“Why are you taking Donna out for dinner?”

“Assistant Anniversary. I was going to take Donna to St. Jude’s.”

“You can drop your name anywhere and get a table.”

“Donna’s been telling me for months how she wants to go to St. Jude’s.”

Leo sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“I mean, it’s bad enough that she got condoms instead of flowers, but...”

“What did you do with those?” Leo interrupts.

Oops. “We got rid of them.” Well, we did.

Nodding, he says, “Good. Anyway...” Leo goes on.

“What am I supposed to do about dinner?” I ask.

“Do I look like an advice columnist?” he asks impatiently. “I wanted to discuss Donna’s raise.”

I sigh in relief. “At least something gone right today.” Silence. My karma is a bitch. “What is it?”

“Kent Conrad called me. Budget is still considering it.”

“Donna’s raise has been stalled in committee?”

“It’s not political,” Leo hurriedly assures me. “They were running behind at the last sitting so they didn’t get to it, and they don’t meet again until Friday.”

“Donna’s raise is being held-up by bureaucracy?”

Condoms, snap-inspections and bureaucracy, oh my! I close my eyes. “This is not happening to me.”

“Josh, I know you wanted to give this to her today...”

“I’ve got Mozart and jewellery left at this point.”

“You can give Donna her raise on Friday and she’ll be just as thrilled.”

“You don’t understand. I’m the Best Boss in the Building. After you,” I add. Leo gives me a disbelieving look. “If I don’t deliver today, Donna won’t be the Girl with the Best...Second Best Boss in the Building. It’s very important to her.”

Leo is frowning. “You’re giving Donna jewellery?”

I’m a brilliant man who runs rings around Senators, but put me in a room with my boss and I can’t covert. “I...it...you know what? Talk to my mother.”

His frown disappears. “If Marah knows about it, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You’re just scared of my mother,” I tease. I can get away with teasing Leo about my mother because he really is terrified of her.

“Go away. I have work to do.” I’m at the door when Leo says, “Josh? Donna shouldn’t need those things to know that you appreciate her.”

********

Josh returns from Leo’s office muttering something about bureaucracy. That isn’t unusual - bureaucracy is one of Josh’s pet hates.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He stops in mid-step. “I’m fine. Did I miss any calls?” “Senator Estevez’s plane is grounded in Hawaii - where you’ve never taken me - because of a tropical storm. I rescheduled her for two o’clock tomorrow.”

“If you could find some legitimate, work-related reason for us to go to Hawaii, where we could experience the joys of a tropical storm, I would take you. But it’s only worth three points and there’s sand everywhere.”

I roll my eyes. “Normal people don’t mind sand. In fact, some people quite like having it between their toes.”

“No, they don’t. That’s just a stupid expression everyone uses. Nobody likes having sand stuck to their feet, or any other part of their anatomy.”

“How would you know about sand in other parts of your anatomy?”

“I have work to do,” Josh hurriedly says.

“You don’t get out of it that easily,” I say, following him into his office.

He sits at his desk and flaps his hand. “Go away and work now.”

“Joshua, it’s my - our - Assistant Anniversary, and all you’ve given me so far is condoms. I deserve to know another piece of blackmail about you, don’t I?”

“Well when you put like it that, I suddenly feel compelled to tell you.”

“Please?” I sit on his desk and pout at him.

Josh is suddenly very silent. “Donna, why are you sitting on my desk?”

“Because,” I answer facetiously, “I want to be Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and have you collect a fax from under my...” I trail off. “What am I sitting on?”

“The draft of the new Trade Practices Act amendments, which I have to review,” Josh replies evenly.

“Tell me about the sand and I’ll get off.”

At least Josh’s not looking at my nose again. It takes me a few seconds to realize that he’s too busy looking at my legs.

Josh’s discomfort is suddenly replaced with smirk No. #8: I know something you don’t know. “I’m not telling you about the sand.”

“I’m not getting off the Trade Practices amendments.” I cross my right leg over my left and swing them slightly. Josh’s eyes are torn: continue our staring match or look at my legs?

I have nice legs.

“It looks like we’re at an impasse,” I continue, with a slight smile.

“Not really.” Josh grabs the corner of the amendments and yanks at it. Because my legs are crossed, my centre of balance is off. So, Josh ends up with the draft in his hands. And me in his lap.

“I always did want to be Richard Gere,” Josh grins.

He’s making a joke? I’m sprawled in his lap like a sacrificial offering, and Josh is making a smart remark...that funny look in his eyes is back.

“Josh,” I say softly. Maybe I’ve pushed it too far this time.

“Donna,” he almost whispers.

We are having a moment.

“Josh have you seen the - what in the name in the God?”

It’s CJ.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

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