House of Cards 1/4
By Lacy


I'm not a pessimist.

If I was, I don't think I would be doing this job. In my heart, I
believe that things can change. I also believe that the world can be
a better place for all people. I believe that this country can be
better- even for the Republicans. So, I think this makes me an
overall optimist. An idealist, if you will.

But that doesn't explain the feeling that I'm having right now.

Sometimes life is too good. Not that I know this from prior personal
experience, you understand. I mean...I've had great moments. When
President Bartlet won the election -- that was a great moment. It was
something I had a hand in. I was a part of that. But still, the
victory was shadowed by the death of my father, making it...well, not
as good as it could have been.

I've met people who, at certain points in their lives, seemed to have
everything going for them. Perfect job, love, family - the best that
life has to offer. These were people from all different walks of
life, but they each had one thing in common. They knew it couldn't
last. They expected heartbreak and destruction around every corner.

I would often wonder, 'Why such fatalism?' Why do they waste so much
time and energy anticipating disaster? Why can't they just take life
as it comes?

Well, now I know.

When you have everything you never knew you always wanted. You kind
of want to hang on to it. You'll do anything to keep it intact. You
become an expert at checking the rear view mirrors of Life, searching
for possible dangers. You learn to recognize a potentially explosive
situation and defuse it before it can detonate in your face.
Preemptive strikes have always been a specialty of mine.

Love is a battlefield, my friends, except without the luxury of
military intel and satellite photos. By the way, please forgive me
the cheesy Pat Benatar reference. I think Sam is right, I might have
a problem. Well, at any rate, at least I'm still quoting cool
sources. I always thought Pat Benatar was hot.

I may not have intel and photos, but I have some first rate
compatriots, and CJ Cregg is my personal National Security Advisor.
Which makes Sam, Toby, and even the President, my Joint Chiefs. I
don't know where I'd be right now if it weren't for them. Except, I'm
pretty sure I wouldn't be feeling this enormous knot in my stomach.

You're probably wondering what the hell I'm talking about.

Tomorrow's moving day. Due to our work schedules, Donna and I will
have to spend our free Sunday, moving everything we own into the new
house. We had to move so fast on the purchase, that there's been no
time to hire a moving company. Donna, in that mystifying way of hers,
has supervised everything. She rented a truck, bought cardboard
boxes, and has spent several hours each night, packing before falling
into bed. Well, of course, I helped with the packing and most of the
heavy lifting.

She's even wrangled Sam, Toby, and CJ in to helping with the move.
Oh, yeah, this is going to be a barrel of laughs. I told her I was
worried about this, but she insists that everything's planned down to
the minute. Barring any major complications or national emergencies,
the move should take no more the five hours, with everyone pitching
in, that is.

So, we have this new house. It's a house to be proud of -- the kind
of house that begs to be shown off. I think Donna is already planning
the housewarming party.

Donna's a planner. It's one of the things I love about her. How she
can take the tiniest germ of an idea and turn it into a full-blown
essay with outlines and bullet points. She supervises like no one I
have ever seen. I think, if we knew what was good for us, we'd put
Donna in charge of campaign fundraising. It's not a bad idea
actually; I'll have to approach Leo about it.

Damn. I'm getting off track.

The day we decided to buy the house was the day I proposed. I was
very suave and confident. I was irresistible. Okay, maybe not suave
and confident, but definitely irresistible. Donna said yes, after
all.

So, I'm getting married. I have everything a man could ask for - a
great job, fulfilling friendships, a beautiful fianceé who also
happens to be my trusted assistant, and a future that's mine for the
taking. So, why do I feel like the whole world could come crashing
down around me ears? Why do I feel like, if the slightest thing
happens to rock the boat, the house of cards will tumble? Sorry about
mixing my metaphors, but you get the drift, right?

I mean my life can't, you know, get any better than this. At least,
that's the way I see it. It can only go downhill from here. Which is
an uncharacteristically fatalist stance for me to take, but still.
The question is what form will this inevitable downfall take? In what
way can I expect the fragile resilience of my life to be tested? In
other words, the waiting game has begun.

The shrill ringing of my phone startles me out of my discouraging
meditations. I shout for Donna twice before I recall that she's
having lunch with CJ (more planning), which means I am left to my own
devices.

"Josh Lyman." I answer the phone on its fifth ring.

"Mr. Lyman," a familiar voice says. "It's Kenny from Joey Lucas'
office. Ms. Lucas will be in town tomorrow and she'd like to know if
you would be available for dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yes, she'd like to catch up." How on earth can I turn this down
without looking like a schmuck? Joey Lucas calls out of the blue and
asks me out to dinner to 'catch up'? She reads the papers doesn't
she? It's not like I'm available any more, which means I'm going to
have do the right thing and let her down easy.

"Sure," I say. "Catching up would be good."

"How's eight o'clock at Chez Robert?"

Great! Dinner at Chez Robert. There'll be soft music and probably
even candles. I am a stupid, stupid man.

"Excellent," I respond with a marked lack of enthusiasm, and hope that
Kenny doesn't notice.

"Great. We'll see you there."

"Sure." I hang up the phone while mentally kicking myself. Getting a
call from Joey Lucas wasn't something I was prepared for. It wasn't
even on my radar. Donna's not going to like this.

Looks like the wait is over.

****

Sam's got his head buried in a book when I walk into his office and
close the door behind me.

"Did you know that-- what's wrong?" he asks when he glances up from
his book.

"Joey Lucas called," I answer.

"Well that's not...oh."

"Yes," I confirm. "I'm having dinner with her tomorrow night."

"I'm sure that she's read the papers, Josh."

"At Chez Robert," I tell him. Primetime spot for lunch meetings
between politicians, but also known for its romantic nighttime
atmosphere.

"Well, this could mean trouble."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Sam."

"I'm just...what are you going to do?"

"What else can I do?"

"You could call back later," he suggests. "Say something came up.
Something of international proportions."

"I can't believe I'm seeking your advice in matters of romance."

"Is this a matter of romance, Josh?"

"No...yes...I don't know."

"Because, I gotta tell you...not a good time to be going out on a date
with Joey Lucas."

"Thank you."

"Or a date with anyone else for that matter," he rambles on.

"Could you please stop calling it a date? It's not a date. It's a
meeting."

"A dinner meeting at Chez Robert."

"Yes."

"Did she set this up to talk about anything in particular?"

"No, Kenny just said she wanted to catch up."

"So, let's sum up. You have a dinner meeting at a candlelit
restaurant, in which you will not be discussing work, but instead
catching up on all the time you lost while she's been working in
California."

"Oh, God. I have a date with Joey Lucas."

"She's a beautiful and interesting woman, Josh."

"You're not helping, Sam."

"Sorry."

Sam wisely decides to keep his mouth shut to avoid any further
overstepping of the bounds. I pace back and forth in front of his
desk, my hands on my hips, trying to resolve the situation in my head.

"Okay," I say. "I can't cancel on her. That would just be bad form.
Besides, I should really talk to her. I mean, she and I...."

"Had something going?"

"I don't know what we had exactly, but there was definitely
something."

"You were interested," he reminds.

"I was interested."

"She was interested."

"We were both interested."

"But then...Rosslyn."

"Yeah," I sigh, sinking into the chair. "Rosslyn. She called when I
was in the hospital, did you know that?" He shakes his head. "But
then, not a word after that. I think she was trying to give me time."

"Giving someone time can be a very delicate issue," Sam agrees.

"Yeah, because I fell in love with another woman."

"So, you think she wants to renew this...this...whatever it was?"

"I don't know." I rub my eyes and the bridge of my nose to ease the
headache forming there. "Kenny made it very clear that she wanted to
'catch up'. What does that mean, 'catch up'?"

"It could mean that she wants to catch up," Sam supplies.

"Maybe I should have gone to CJ, instead, since it's obvious you're
completely useless," I lament.

"She'd only smack you."

"You have a point."

"Making me not completely useless, after all."

"I'm just going to have to explain the situation to her lightly,
that's all."

"CJ?"

"Joey," I correct. "I'm just going to have to tell her that I'm
practically a married man. That I'm happy and I want to stay that
way. I'll tell her I think she's a beautiful, intelligent woman, but
that it just wasn't in the cards for us."

"I love it when a plan comes together."

"I'll be caring and sensitive. I'll be a gentleman." At some point
during the scheming I actually begin to hear the words coming out of
my mouth. "I'm a dead man."

"It really doesn't look good for our hero," Sam agrees. "You had it
going on, until you got the part about being sensitive and a
gentleman. Is that really going to be the plan?"

"What choice do I have?"

"You need a better strategist."

"Hey," I say. "I'm a damn good strategist, and I can do this."

"Okay." His agreement lacks any kind of supportive optimism.

"I can," I insist. "It's just going to take a little bit of
delicacy."

"Something which you are sadly lacking."

"I'm not feeling the love, Sam."

"You can do it," he says. "You just have to stay focused, and
remember the mission. And whatever you do, don't get hostile. Also,
remember that you're engaged." His pep talk is less pep and more
worry.

"Right, I can do that."

"Good luck," he says.

"Thanks, Sam."

TBC