King of the Mountain: Part 11
Lynn Jepsen
I've been the odd man out all through dinner. Paul and Sarah talked about
mint tea for almost a half hour, and while I like tea as well as the next
person, I can't fathom talking about it for an hour and a half. My
entertainment, therefore, has been solely supplied by Lisa's mother and
Sam. Now, you wouldn't think the governor of California would be
intimidated by one elderly matron of society. You would also be wrong.
Sam has alternately cowered, dodged, and sighed after every comment she
throws his way, and it's turning in to a rather enjoyable silent stand-up
act.
Phillip insists on buying everyone dessert, and that's when I realize
those are the first words that man has spoken in over an hour. He is a
wet noodle. I always thought Lisa and Sam were exaggerating. "Why don't
Sam and I step outside while you have dessert?" Lisa eyes me
suspiciously, but hey, we're due for a strategy meeting, and if I didn't
rescue him eventually, he's never let me live it down.
January in New England is cold. This is
hell-froze-over-and-no-one-told-me weather. Now, you'd think, growing up
in Connecticut, I'd be used to this. You would again be wrong. I burrow
deeper into my coat, and send a silent thank you to my mother and her
practical birthday gifts. We do start off trying to hold a strategy
meeting while walking around the block. We make two circles discussing
Wednesday's debate before we branch off into talking about the
competition. Of course we've analyzed Glasscock. It's very hard to be
ignorant about the President. We know Klein; we know Nichols; we know
Reynolds, and we know what to expect. "You know, Josh, you really
shouldn't have pissed of Mark Reynolds." Okay, why the hell not? Trust me
here. "Well, for one, he's the speaker, and for two, I don't want to be
in Bartlet's shoes. I don't want to be sitting at the Convention on
Thursday night reduced to begging for a Vice President."
I know I should confess Mark Reynolds' sliminess, but things are just
easier if I don't, so I bite my tongue. The next trip around the block is
made in silence, and the California state troopers are starting to mutter
about New England weather. Welcome to my hell gentlemen. "Josh..." Sam's
voice breaks the silence, and we stop walking. I think with the crutches,
he's getting tired out. "Just don't be a jerk to my sister."
Wait just one second. What have I done to deserve that? I am not a jerk
to women. I mean, sure, I was a jerk to Mandy last fall, but after three
tries, one screwup is bound to be my fault. I was never a jerk to CJ or
to Joey or to Donna. I was never a jerk. "I'm just saying I don't want
her to get hurt. After Michael...." No, do not tell me about hurting
people. Do you even listen to yourself? You have been such a jerk to
Lisa.... You have been such a jerk. Don't presume to tell me how to run
my life.
I can feel this Pandora's box being ripped open inside me. I've bottled
up a lot of things for the sake of Sam's career. I've assured myself that
we were best friends, that we trusted each other, that we had an
understanding, only to watch Sam toss the understanding out the window.
Not only would I never be a jerk to his sister, I should apologize to
Lisa for letting Sam be a creep. "You cheated on your wife. You're making
Michael look like a sweetheart. You shut her out, Sam. You shut her out
of your career, you shut her out of the decision-making, and you shut her
out of your life. She might forgive you, but I'm not sure I do."
He stares at me then, with his mouth moving and no sound coming out. Jed
Bartlet was the real deal. I'm not convinced Sam Seaborn is. He might...
he might believe in all the right things, he might be willing to fight
the good fight, but why the hell should I back him up now? I've known
Lisa a lot longer than I'm known Sam. When it comes down to loyalty.... I
used to think Sam would never do anything horrible enough for me to doubt
this thing I was doing. I guess I've been doubting just a little bit for
the last year. I've been doubting just a little bit since Sam knocked on
my door last March and told me he'd slept with some girl while Lisa was
gone. I'm still doubting.
"I don't have to explain my life to you. Haven't we been through enough,
Josh? Stick with me or don't, but I don't need to explain myself to you."
Yeah, you do. At least Bartlet knew when he was being a bastard. Hell,
his wife let him know loud and clear. Lisa adores you. For some reason,
she adores you, and I'm not going to help you walk all over her. Don't
call me a jerk until you fix your own marriage.
I can see this look in his eyes. It's a look I imagine Mark Kaupfer saw
on election night 2004. It's a look I suppose Brookline and Joyce saw
when they attacked Ainsley Hayes, and I'm pretty sure it's the look CJ
described after Sam's rant about Laurie and the press. I know what's
coming next too. The funny thing is, when he fires me, I don't really
care. I just hope it makes him figure things out.
*
Sarah wouldn't return my calls this morning. Figures. I guess that
routine last night counts as being a jerk. Funny thing is, Sarah not
speaking to me bothers me more than Sam not speaking to me. I know either
Sam will figure things out and admit I'm right about things, or a few
years will pass, but eventually, he'll talk to me. In the meantime, I
call the governor's office and tell Carol to be ready for any questions
she might get. Lisa calls me just before I head out to talk to Leo. She
wants to have breakfast. A couple different things occur to me then. One,
she's talked to Sarah. Two, she's talked to Rachel, who I fired this
morning. Three, she's talked to Sam, which opens up entirely new
possibilities.
Leo isn't thrilled by my suggestion that he take over the campaign. Most
people are retired by sixty-eight, not taking on whole new projects, and
Sam is a project in need of some help. I remember very distinctly telling
Donna a presidential campaign was no place to find yourself and she just
wanted to type and file. What do we do when the candidate needs to find
himself?
"Hey." When I walk into the coffee shop, I spot Lisa at a table alone,
and slink over. I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to this at all. She
smiles though, and gestures for me to sit down. At least Brutus isn't
with her, so that rules out one possible torture. "Thank you." What did
she just say? "Sam told me about last night, and while I appreciate you
defending me, I'd rather you just run the campaign. I can look out for
myself, Josh." Yeah, but you shouldn't have to look out for yourself when
it comes to Sam. You just shouldn't. Besides, most of it was my selfish
quest to bring my best friend back to life. Plus, he called me a jerk.
She laughs at that, and mutters something about my ego leading my mouth
astray, but she doesn't say anything else about Sam or the campaign.
Instead, she mentions Geoffrey Donaldsen seems to have an opening for a
talking head with a liberal viewpoint. You know, I'm not sure I want to
make a name for myself my sticking my foot in my mouth opposite Mary
Marsh at five thirty every day. "On CNN to boot. Don't forget that,
Joshua." Yeah, you see why that's such a bad idea. Of course, I wouldn't
have to commit to another candidate right away then, and I could leave to
come back here... make it a temporary thing....
"You a little slow on the uptake there." Yeah, so I am. "I guess I ought
to go soothe the burnt egos back at headquarters." You know, he's a grown
man. You ought to make him act like one. Her smile is tight then, and she
shakes her head. "After all this.... After all this, Josh, he'd have to
reinvent the word jerk."
Yeah, well, I guess I ought to call Mr. Donaldsen.
King of the Mountain: Part 12
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