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.

That stupid adjoining door. That stupid, fucking adjoining door. Mental note: have the stupid, fucking, adjoining door nailed shut and cemented up. ASAP.

CJ none too gently closes the stupid, fucking adjoining door. “Joshua Huen Lyman, would you care to explain why Donna is sitting in your lap?”

Damn - she brought the full name. “I...uh...she...”

Donna interjects. “I overbalanced and fell into Josh’s lap, CJ. You walked in two seconds after it happened. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” I repeat.

“It’s nothing? I’m sorry if I think finding the Deputy Chief of Staff with his assistant ensconced in his lap is something! What if I’d been a reporter?”

“The only person that could get in here through your office is Danny, and he wouldn’t write anything about it,” I point out sensibly.

“Josh!” CJ yells, as if my name is erudite counter-argument.

“I’m just saying.” Playing it cool is the way to go. Or maybe not. CJ looks ready to punch me.

Donna intercedes again. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. I was simply reminding Josh he has a meeting with Senator McDowell...”

“I do?” I ask.

Donna simultaneously kicks my ankle and elbows me in the ribs, with remarkable co-ordination. “Yes. I just reminded you.”

I catch my breath and realize my mistake. “You just did.”

“You’re just trying to kill me aren’t?” CJ says. “No, you do kill me. I lie awake at night with nightmare visions of the day my pressroom finds out, and I think did they do it on the desk, whilst I was in the next room, and...”

“You’re rambling,” I interject. “There’s nothing like that between us.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think we’d know,” Donna answers, blushing slightly. “This...” she gestures at the space between us, “Is nothing at all.” Although, I’d like to point out that the space between us right now is very small.

“Good,” CJ finally says, her expression softening. “Because I’d be the first to tell you that relationships like this don’t work.”

“I know,” I say, sick of hearing about how much of a terrible idea Donna and I are. “I know, CJ. I live and breathe politics. I really do know.”

“It’s not just about the ramifications for this administration. Relationships like that are difficult to maintain.”

I realize what she’s talking about. “Those were completely different circumstances, CJ. For a start, you weren’t his assistant.”

“No, but we worked together, and we couldn’t stay together.”

I chose my words carefully. “It wasn’t just the job, CJ. It was other things.”

Her smile is brittle. “Yes. You sure this is nothing?” she asks again.

“Yes,” Donna and I answer in automatic unison.

I, of course, being an idiot, continue. “It was a Julia Roberts moment, but the Bill was too thick, so Donna lost her balance, and...”

“I have work to do,” Donna interrupts, using my knee to lever herself upright, before she heads back to her desk. Who knew the knee was an erogenous zone?

“Josh,” CJ says, interrupting my train of thought. It was such a nice train, too.

“It’s nothing. There is nothing going on.”

She shakes her head. “There’s always something going on between you two.”

“We’re just friends.”

“So were we,” CJ says softly.

“It’s probably not a good idea to talk about that when Donna’s around.”

“And what makes you think Donna doesn’t know about Toby and I?” she asks.

“She knows?”

“Donna doesn’t spend her very limited spare time at home thinking about you, Josh. She goes out with people: me, the other assistants, Sam.”

“Sam?” Jealously is thick in my voice, although I’m not sure why.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” CJ says with irritation. “They’re just friends, Josh.”

“And that’s all Donna and I are,” I hurriedly reassert.

“Good.” Her eyes deepen to navy blue. “Does Toby...does he ever...” she trails off. “No, I don’t want to know.” CJ turns and opens our connecting door.

“Claudia Jean?”

“Yes, Joshua?”

“He does.”

It doesn’t occur to me until five minutes later, that during the entire time CJ was yelling at us, Donna didn’t climb out of my lap.

********

Thirty minutes after the lap debacle, and I’m typing up memo, and correcting Josh’s grammar when somebody tugs on my hair and holds a red scarf up in front of my eyes. My red scarf, which I thought I’d lost.

Sam perches on the edge of my desk, before draping the scarf around my neck and smiles in that innocent way that always makes me smile at him in return. “You left it the other night,” he tells me.

Pick your mind out of the gutter. There’s nothing like that between us.

“You left it in the restaurant.”

“Thank you,” I say, pulling it off. “I was wondering where I’d left it.”

“No problem. I’ve got tickets to the Rockwell exhibition.”

My eyes go wide. “You do?”

He nods excitedly. “This Friday night. You doing anything?”

I give Sam a pointed look. “Sam, am I ever doing anything on a Friday night other than commiserating with you that I nothing to do on a Friday night?”

He shrugs. “I thought you and Josh...” he trails off.

“Josh and I what?” I ask suspiciously.

“CJ was just in my office, saying something about finding you in his lap. That and something about Julia Roberts. I thought maybe...”

I shake my head. “It was nothing. And I’m free on Friday night. We can have dinner afterwards.”

“That’d be nice.”

Six months ago, Josh went to some function and I worked late. Sam wandered into the bullpen, looking dejected. I asked him what was wrong, and we ended up talking until two. The following week, he asked me to dinner, and we discovered we have a lot in common.

“I should get back to work, or Kathy will hunt me down,” Sam says.

“She could do your work for you,” I tease, tugging on his green silk tie.

“Mm,” Sam agrees. “Toby probably wouldn’t gripe about her writing at all.”

“Toby couldn’t live without you; he also couldn’t live with himself if he told you that.”

“We need a Sam Anniversary day. People could bring me condoms.” He looks around. “What did you end up doing with them?”

“We got rid of them,” I tell him. And we did. “Now go away.”

“Did I imagine it, or was there a glow-in-the-dark one?”

“Go. Now.” I push at Sam’s hip, but he’s surprisingly strong.

“Because, if there is...”

“Samuel Norman Seaborn,” I interrupt him, “If you finish that sentence, I...” But I don’t get to finish my sentence.

“Hello Donna,” says somebody with a loud, familiar voice.

I look up at Sam, and find him similarly surprised. Then I twist my head ninety degrees and look at the person standing in front of my desk.

Well, isn’t that just great?

****

Kenny and Joey Lucas are standing in front of my desk like it’s perfectly natural for them to be standing there. Joey Lucas is smiling, as if she hasn’t come to ruin my - our - Assistant Anniversary.

“How are you?” Kenny asks.

“Good,” Sam answers. He tries to stand straight, but I’m still clutching his tie and he’s yanked back down.

“Sorry, Sam.” I let go of his tie.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asks Joey.

“I’m here with Congresswoman Wyatt,” Joey answers, via Kenny. “I’m working with her on mandatory minimum’s.”

“Andie’s here?” I ask. This is not happening. “In the White House?”

Joey looks puzzled. “Yes. We have a meeting with Toby.”

And of course, because I’m trapped in my own nightmare, the aforementioned Andie appears. She tries to place my face. “Donna?” she asks uncertainly.

I nod. “That’s right.”

Andie looks at Joey. “Toby’s in a meeting. Ginger says he should be finished soon.” Joey nods, and Andie turns back to Sam and I. “Hi Sam,” she says.

“Hello Andie,” Sam replies. “How are you?”

“I’m good. How do you like working with Toby?”

Sam considers his answer. “It’s a challenge and a privilege.”

“Thank you Sam. It’s a challenge to work with you too,” says Toby, entering the drama that’s playing out in front of my desk.

Only two more people could make this situation worse.

Josh’s office door is thrown open. That’s one. “Donnatella!” Josh begins, “Have you seen...Andie!” The redhead stops him in his tracks.

“Josh,” says Joey.

“Joey!” Josh looks askance at me, as though my fault that since he was last out here, Joey, Kenny and Andie have appeared.

“How are you?” Joey and Andie ask Josh in unison.

“Good,” he replies. “Donnatella,” he repeats, looking for an explanation.

I’m thinking of ways to get everyone away from my desk, and trying to recall where CJ is right now. “Joey...Andie...Toby...minimum’s,” I manage.

Josh frowns at my addled effort and looks to Sam.

“Andie’s here to discuss mandatory minimum’s. Hudson/Hawk released that report last week, and the Ethics Committee wants to revisit it,” Sam adds. “I presume Joey’s here to talk about possible polling on the issue.”

“Yes,” Toby confirms, gesturing back towards the Communications bullpen. “So why don’t we head back to my office, Andie? Joey...Kenny?”

And the problem seems to be miraculously solved. Sam’s shoulders relax, Josh exhales and I nod with enthusiasm. The sooner...

“Josh,” someone says from within Josh’s office. “Josh, where are you?”

CJ appears in Josh’s doorway, and starts at the crowd of people. “Joey,” she says, seeing the blonde woman first. “I didn’t know you were in Washington.”

“Hey CJ,” she says, via Kenny. “I’m here until this evening.”

“That’s...” CJ trails off as she sees Andie, “...good.”

“Hey, CJ,” Andie says.

“Hello Andie,” CJ replies.

“It’s good to see you,” the redhead continues.

“Yes,” CJ says, imperceptibly lifting her shoulders. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Andie answers. “Busy. Are you keeping Toby in line for me?”

“Nobody can keep Toby in line,” CJ counters. “Least of all me.”

“That’s not true,” Andie counters. “He always listened to you.”

CJ risks a glance at Toby. “Toby doesn’t listen to anyone.”

“That’s because I’m always right,” Toby says softly.

Andie continues blithely. “If I had a dollar for every time Toby would talk about something CJ had told him to do, I’d be a rich woman.”

Kenny’s translated the conversation for Joey, and being a perceptive woman, she’s figured out the nuances, but she can’t do anything. Sam is looking off in the distance, and I don’t have the power to break this situation.

“What did you need me for, CJ?” Josh asks, having that power.

“I need you to take me through some figures before the briefing.”

“I’ve got that meeting with Luke McDowell, so we should do it now.” He smiles at Joey and Andie. “Excuse us. It was good seeing you both.”

“I’ll drop by later,” Joey tells him.

Sam starts herding Andie, Kenny and Joey towards Toby’s office, but Toby is still looking at CJ. Josh puts a hand on the small of CJ’s back and guides her into his office. When he isn’t being an insensitive jerk, Josh can be a wonderful friend.

Toby looks at Josh’s door for moment, before he turns and follows Sam, his ex-wife and his visitors. I probably imagine it, but he moves very slowly.

********

It was a one-time thing one night that turned into a three-month thing, when CJ and Toby were working on Governor Florey’s campaign. I’m not certain what the status of Andie and Toby’s relationship was then, but I know it wasn’t good. Their marriage was in trouble for years before they finally split up.

I knew Toby professionally - political operatives move in small circles, and we’d bump into each other at functions, conventions, and on the campaign trail. We knew enough about each other to have a few drinks.

Looking back on that period, I recall a kind of happiness in Toby. Toby’s happiness isn’t a buoyant quality that can barely be contained, like Donna’s happiness. His happiness is almost insidious. He wears an air of relief when he’s happy - it’s a temporary reprieve from the demons that live inside Toby.

Those demons give Toby his intensity, and his heart. And those are the qualities he gives to President Bartlet with his speeches. The President is a brilliant man, but Toby makes him more than brilliant. Toby makes him sublime. Toby does - and will - make Josiah Bartlet a legend.

I knew, back then, that Toby had found something to fill the space inside. And I knew, a few months later, after Florey lost, that Toby had also lost.

When we were looking for a Press Secretary during the campaign, Toby argued for CJ, and received Leo’s permission to go and get her. Never let it be said that Toby’s personal feelings get in the way of his professionalism, because he was right about CJ being the best person for the job.

I know they talked about working together when CJ took the position and they’re completely professional. I also know that sometimes, Toby looks at CJ like she’s his sanity but he can’t tell her, and CJ gives him a crooked smile because she already knows.

When I close my door behind me, I take CJ’s chin between my fingers and look directly at her.

Claudia Jean Cregg is the single strongest woman I will ever meet.

But she’s also fragile and vulnerable like the rest of us, and I can see her fighting to hold it together.

So, I do something I rarely do, because she rarely lets me. I slide my arms around her waist and pull her close to me. CJ holds out for a minute, before her body relaxes and her arms slip around my neck.

We stand there for a very long time.

****

Even when you’re the Deputy White House Chief of Staff, if you’re meeting with Senate leadership, you do it on their territory.

I don’t mind running around after Minority Leader Luke McDowell.

When I worked for the Whip, Luke was the Deputy Majority Leader, and we were constantly liasing. We used to joke about the future, when I’d be running the White House, and he’d be running the Senate, and all would be right with the world.

I spend a nice hour with Luke, going over the upcoming legislative program. I have to skirt around the administration’s real agenda quite a number of times, but Luke does the same thing, because the White House and the Senate aren’t exactly friends, even if Luke and I are.

We dispense with that in about forty minutes, and roll our eyes over the Republicans, then exchange party gossip. Luke tells me about his kids; I ask after his wife, before he asks, “And how’s that assistant of yours?” He frowns. “Donna?”

“When did you meet Donna?”

“Seeing as you always come to me, right?” Luke asks with a grin.

“Yeah,” I grin in return.

“We met a few months ago at a Congressional function. We got to talking.”

I freeze and look very carefully at Luke. “What did you tell her?”

He looks at me innocently. “Whatever do you mean, Josh?”

“Luke,” I warn. “Did you tell her about that weekend in Nova Scotia?”

“No, but I will next time.” He holds out another minute. “I didn’t tell her anything. We just laughed our asses off about the secret plan to fight inflation.”

I groan. “People are still talking about that?”

He nods. “Funniest thing to happen since the President rode his bike into a tree. Or CJ said she was good in bed.”

“You know that CJ can kill a man in fourteen different ways, right?”

“Up here, we’re wary of you and Leo, we love Sam, we know not to cross Toby, and we’re just plain scared of CJ.”

“Who said Senators are stupid?” I tease. “I’ll tell Donna you say hello.”

Luke hesitates a moment. “I’m going to say this as your friend. Donna’s a wonderful woman, Josh, and wonderful women don’t come along very often.”

“Luke - ”

“Hear me out. I wouldn’t say anything, except that when she and I were talking, I mentioned the...I mentioned Rosslyn.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway,” Luke hurries on, “She went deadly pale, and couldn’t talk about it without shaking, Josh. Her hands were shaking and she had to sit down.”

“Luke...” I trail off.

He sighs. “Yeah. Donna’s still a wonderful woman.”

We agree to have lunch next week, and I walk back down the hill, enjoying the sunshine.

********

After Josh goes up to the Hill to see Luke McDowell, I make sure there’s no way Andie and CJ can bump into each other again. I tell Sam to tie Andie down if he has to, and head back to my desk. Now everything’s taken care of, I have nothing to do but think about Joey. That or work.

Joey Lucas it is.

Josh obviously liked Joey from the moment she stunned him out of his morning-after-the-two-drinks-the-night-before hangover. He’s such a lightweight. But that’s the not issue.

The issue is that in California, Joey Lucas flirted with Josh while she was sleeping with Al Keifer. And dear God, why? Has she seen the man? I mean, really seen the man? Al doesn’t-have-a-thing-on-Joshua-Lyman Keifer?

The whole California debacle hurt Josh a lot more than he let on. The man has an emotionally crippling mea-culpa-complex he’s carried since he was six. Tell me you wouldn’t have self-esteem issues.

Anyway, Josh recovered, but it was a damn trying period for both of us.

Then Joey came to town; Josh wore his Tuesday suit, gave her a mug, and found out (along with most of D.C.) that she was no longer sleeping with Al Keifer.

And nothing happened. Absolutely nothing. Nada.

I honestly think there’s something wrong with Joey, because she did something with Al Keifer and nothing with Josh. What’s wrong with him? Can’t she see how sweet and funny and intelligent he is? Maybe he’s a jerk sometimes, but nobody’s perfect.

Dear God, I’m pathetic. I hate it when he’s a jerk, and Josh’s list of imperfections makes the Wall of China look short.

Back to Joey Lucas. My point is this: although nothing has ever happened between them, and I doubt anything ever will now, whenever Joey’s in town, Josh becomes oblivious to me, and barely looks in my direction.

If I were four, I would stamp my foot and complain that it’s not fair.

However, I’m twenty-six, and I bite my tongue.

But today is our Assistant Anniversary. He’s taking me to dinner at St. Jude’s. He’s...I stop typing as a horrifying realization comes over me. What if Josh isn’t taking me to St. Jude’s? What if he’s taking Joey? What if condoms are all I get, while Joey gets dinner and dancing, because there’s dancing at St. Jude’s. What if...

My cell phone is ringing. It’s in my handbag, and I have to pull out mascara, lipstick, a comb, two loose tampons, my purse, car keys, Josh’s passport (I keep it with me because he always mislays it), and a thousand receipts before I locate it.

“Donna Moss.”

“Donnatella!” Josh exclaims.

“Josh,” I reply. The bastard is taking Joey Lucas to St. Jude’s on my - our - Assistant Anniversary. “Where are you?”

“Walking down Pennsylvania.” He’s probably strutting. “I was just accosted by four of my fans. I think I need to hire a bodyguard.” He’s definitely strutting.

I roll my eyes. “Because you need something like that to feed your undernourished ego.”

“I promised Leo I’d call Terry McAuliffe. Apparently, he’s griping about 817, or something like that.”

I wait, until I realize he’s expecting an answer. “And?” I prompt.

“And,” he says impatiently, “My powers of mental telepathy are running low today, so I need you to give me McAuliffe’s number so I can call him on it.”

“Why don’t you wait until you get back to the office?”

Josh sighs. “Because - it’s a nice day, and four good-looking co-eds just told me I’m incredible, and my meeting with Luke went well. He says hello, by the way.”

“He says ‘hello by the way’?” I question.

“No, he says hello, without the by the way bit.”

“Where’s the number?” I ask impatiently. I need to go and vent somewhere.

“In my backpack,” Josh tells me. “In one of the front pockets.”

“That’s specific,” I snap, stepping into his office and locating his backpack.

“Donna?” Josh asks, in a quiet tone, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. And do you have any idea which pocket?”

“No,” he replies. “I’ll pick up some lunch - what would you like?”

Something from St. Jude’s is on the tip of my tongue. “A salad,” I decide. “A Caesar salad with...”

“No anchovies, very little dressing, and extra bacon,” Josh says, before I do. “And you’d prefer it from Pete’s Deli, not the café next to Starbucks, because their salad still tastes like anchovies even after they remove them. Anything else?”

“No. I’ve found the number.” As I pull it out, a whole bunch of papers fall out with it. I ignore them and reel off Terry McAuliffe’s number.

“Thanks. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”

“Fine.” I hang up and collect the bits of paper together. They’re mostly business cards, but two of them aren’t. Two of them are tickets to the opening night of the New York Philharmonic playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.

My asshole of a boss is taking Joey to dinner and then to hear Mozart.

And he thinks he can fix this with a Caesar salad with no anchovies and extra bacon from Pete’s Deli?

I need to find Sam so I can stamp my foot and tell him it’s just not fair.

********

When I get back to the office, Donna’s not waiting in the hallway. I stop mid-step, and wonder when our routine became so central to my world. I walk quickly to the bullpen, but she’s not sitting at her desk, and she isn’t in my office. I pivot and head over to the Communications bullpen.

Bonnie, Ginger and Kathy have their heads together at Kathy’s desk.

“Hey guys,” I say, and they spring apart. “Do you know where Donna is?”

Bonnie gives me an appraising look. “She’s in Sam’s office.”

“Thanks. Is Toby still in with Andie and Joey?”

“Yes,” Ginger answers. “Why do you ask?”

“I want to speak to Toby after he’s finished,” I answer guardedly.

“Toby?” Kathy raises an eyebrow. “You want to speak to Toby?”

“Yes. Why do I feel like I’m in the middle of a Spanish Inquisition?”

Ginger shrugs innocently. “We thought you might want to talk to Joey.”

“Uh...okay.”

“I don’t think Donna wants to be disturbed,” Bonnie tells me.

I hold up my bags. “I’ve got lunch. Why wouldn’t she want to be disturbed? What could she be doing in there with Sam?” There’s silence, and my imagination runs away with me. “What is Donna doing in there with Sam?”

“We don’t know,” Ginger answers breezily. “You sound almost jealous.”

“W-wh-what?” I splutter. “Why would I be jealous? Donna’s my assistant. Tell Toby I want to see him. And stop looking at me like that.”

“Okay,” Bonnie smiles.

“Jealous,” I roll my eyes, hoping I’m not overdoing it. But Donna is my assistant, goddamn it, and she’s supposed to wait in the hallway with an expectant expression, because that’s what we do.

I open the door to hear Sam say, “...be honest with yourself, Donna.”

“I am,” Donna says fervently. Her ramrod straight back is to me, her weight is resting on one hip, and the other is thrust out rather alluringly. “It’s not fair, Sam!”

“What’s not fair?” I ask, stepping into Sam’s office.

Donna whips around, her hair flying and eyes bright, obviously startled. “Josh! What are you doing here?”

I hold up my bags. “I went to my office, only to discover that my assistant wasn’t there doing what an assistant does. So, I came over here and was held up by the Witches of Eastwick. But I come bearing lunch.”

“We heard that,” Bonnie calls from out in the bullpen.

“What’s not fair?” I repeat, putting the bags on Sam’s desk. Donna is flushed and magnificent and I’m not going there.

Sam looks at Donna and fumbles for an answer. “Donna thinks 817 is unfair.”

I frown. “You think the amendments tightening the restrictions for a state of the art defence are unfair?”

“Uh...yeah,” she says. “I think the restrictions aren’t tight enough.”

They’re both lying, but I let it pass. “I have lunch.”

“Did you get me something?” Sam doesn’t wait for an answer and starts rifling through the bags. “Caesar salad...one horribly burnt burger...a white mocha, a straight black...and two chocolate éclairs.” He pouts. “Nothing for me?”

“You didn’t ask for anything. But if you’re a good boy and you do what Mommy and Daddy tell you, I’ll buy you a special treat tomorrow.”

Sam throws me the dirtiest look he can muster, which isn’t saying much. “For my best friend, you’re not very, I don’t know, friendly towards me.”

I collect the bags. “You’ll get over it. Let’s go eat, Donna.” There’s something up here, and I’m determined to find out what.

****

Donna sits down in one of my visitor’s chairs and starts stabbing at her salad with her fork. I’m glad I’m not the cos lettuce.

“Any messages?” I ask, attempting conversation.

“No,” Donna answers shortly, eviscerating a piece of egg.

“Did I tell you Luke says hello?”

“Yes.”

“Terry thinks we’re going in too hard on 817.”

Donna airs her I-don’t-care look, and returns to her ethnic cleansing of olives.

I put down my burger. “What’s going on?”

Donna looks at me like I’m stupid, and should already know the answer. Has history taught women anything at all? Men never know.

“Nothing,” she finally answers.

“When I left, you were in a good mood. I’m back, and you’re snappy.”

“It’s nothing,” she repeats. “Just...nothing, Josh.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Would you just leave it alone?” Donna stridently replies. “It’s nothing.”

“I still don’t believe you. Is this about the condoms? Because I - ”

“No,” Donna interrupts. “You haven’t done anything.”

And that, I believe, is the problem. “What haven’t I done?”

She hesitantly asks, “Did you know Joey was going to be here today?”

The hell? “Did I know she’d be here in Washington? No.”

Donna exhales. “Oh.” Then she smiles. “When I met Tom, he told me about that party you guys had on the twentieth anniversary of Nixon’s resignation.”

We’ve gone from snipping to teasing. I’m officially lost. We had a problem, Joey Lucas somehow entered the conversation, and now we’re fine. She’s expecting an answer. “What lie did he tell you about me?”

“Something about you getting drunk and reciting Rupert Brookes poetry.”

I take umbrage. “I hate Rupert Brookes. It was Auden.”

“I didn’t know you liked poetry.” Donna takes a sip of her coffee and a smudge of foam ends up on her upper lip.

“Some poetry.” My fingers are itching to lean across and...her tongue flicks out and collects the foam and my stomach ends up somewhere near the floor.

“I can’t stand Rupert Brookes either,” Donna continues, unaware of what she’s just done to me. “But I like T.S. Eliot - ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’. I like the line about music from another room.”

I collect myself - and my stomach - and say,
“I know the voices dying with a dying fall,
Beneath the music from a further room.”

Donna is looking at me like I’ve sprouted a third arm. “What? You thought I only studied politics, law and the art of being a jerk?”

“No, but I...I...” she trails off.

I’m bemused. “Admit it, Donna, you think I’m a Neanderthal. Just because I mock opera, and ballet and the theatre doesn’t mean I don’t like other things.”

“Like what?” she demands.

I shrug. “Literature, poetry, philosophy. I studied all of them.”

“I don’t think you’re a Neanderthal.”

I finish my burger. “My father loved poetry.”

“The only thing my father reads is the Sports section,” Donna says.

“My father did that too.”

“That’s what I love about this job - the intellectual debate. We never had that. Conversation at our dinner table revolved around the latest model oven the neighbours had bought and how my sister was a dead cert for May Queen.”

“Debate at the dinner table isn’t much fun when your father’s a lawyer and your mother should have been one.”

“But look how well you argue now.”

“Doth a compliment fall from my fair assistant’s lips?”

“A momentary lapse in concentration,” Donna replies, looking flushed. “It won’t happen again.”

“I should think not.”

And it’s suddenly better. I hate it when Donna’s mad with me. Most of the time it’s justified, because I’ve acted like a jerk, but this is my favourite part of our day. Sitting in my cramped, messy office, eating lunch and bantering.

We finish our coffee and éclairs, and Donna collects the rubbish and heads for the door.

“Donna?” I ask, and she turns to look at me. “Are we okay?”

She nods, smiling softly. “Yes, Josh. We’re okay.”

********

He didn’t know Joey Lucas was coming. And if he didn’t know, he couldn’t have booked dinner and bought the tickets to the symphony for her. Which means they are for me. I’m still the Girl with the Best Boss in the Building. And Josh quoted poetry and called me his ‘fair assistant’.

So, I’m grinning like a fool when Margaret appears. “Hey Donna.”

“Hi Margaret. Does Leo want Josh?”

“No.” She frowns. “Didn’t Josh tell you I’d be coming by?”

“He must have forgotten.”

“Oh.” Margaret blushes. “Josh said you keep finding spares...”

“Spares?” I rack my brains. “Spares of what?”

Margaret lowers her voice. “The flowers.”

“Oh.” I open my bottom drawer. “Take your pick.”

“Donna!” she hisses. “Can’t you put them in something? I can’t carry those around. What if Leo sees them? Or Toby? Or Sam or Josh?”

I’m in a fabulous mood. “You and Leo could put them to good use.”

“Donna!” She’s so mortified it’s cute.

“I’m joking. Anyway, don’t you have the fourth date with that lawyer from Phillips Fox?”

“Aaron Lawrie. It’s our fifth date on Saturday.” Her eyes are shinning.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“He’s sweet and gentlemanly and intelligent, and I really like him.”

“Has Leo met him yet?”

“No,” Margaret replies with relief. “And thankfully, Leo doesn’t know him. Although I think Sam knows of him.”

“He said only good things about Aaron to me,” I confide. Sam made some discreet inquiries, because what’s the good of being in power unless you can find out whether your friend is dating an asshole? “You think he’ll survive the Leo test?”

“I think so. As Josh would say, the sheer blur of numbers says I have to win one sometime.”

I laugh. Leo is notorious for disapproving of Margaret’s boyfriends. “Hopefully, my spare flowers will be good luck on Saturday,” I say.

“Donna!” She carefully selects three - apple, blueberry and chocolate. I wonder idly whether she’s going to count the calories in them.

“You should get back before Leo finds you missing and panics.”

Margaret rolls her eyes and heads back to Leo’s office. “Thanks Donna.”

“She only took three,” Josh comments. He’s leaning against his doorframe, looking wonderfully dishevelled. “She can’t think very highly of Aaron.”

“Perhaps you think too highly of yourself,” I say archly. “She’s only going on the fifth date anyway. Margaret’s a seventh or eighth date kind of girl.”

“And what kind of girl are you?” I shrug. “It’s been months since I’ve been a first date, so...” I trail off. I cannot believe I said that aloud. I move on quickly. “I should get back to work.”

But Josh doesn’t budge. “Does it bother you that Margaret’s met a great guy she’s going on the fifth date with him?”

“Margaret deserves to be happy,” I say, without hesitation.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Josh, I’d really rather not discuss my love life in the middle of the bullpen.” He gestures to his office. “No, I’d really rather not discuss it with you.”

Josh is obviously confused. “Why not?”

“Because you’ve still got thirty-five amendments to review.”

“No guy deserves you anyway, Donnatella. You’re - ”

“Josh,” Kenny interrupts, translating Joey’s signing as they approach. “I just finished up with Toby.”

Oh, for the love of God. Does this woman have an internal clock that tells her exactly when she should interrupt Josh and I? Am I being punished for having a number of detailed and erotic fantasies about my boss? Well, just the one fantasy, but I have an incredible imagination. That one fantasy is more creative than anything in the Karma Sutra - even the thing on page 61, with the feather.

“I was wondering if you were free tonight?” Joey asks Josh.

What?! She wants to go out with him on my - our - Assistant Anniversary?

“Uh...” Josh fumbles around, “Why don’t you come into my office?”

Josh shoots me a glance as Joey and Kenny precede him into his office. It’s a glance that says we’re not finished here.

Too damn right we’re not. Why does nobody deserve me? And what is he going to tell Joey to let her down? That better be what he’s doing. Because I am getting my dinner, my dancing, my Eine Kleine Nachtmusik and my platonic flirting with Josh, even if I have to kill Joey and Kenny and blame the President.

I’m mentally assessing the choice of weapons in Josh’s office when a shadow falls across my desk. I look up and wish I hadn’t.

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

| << back | send feedback | The National Library |