"Don't come in here."
Danny Tripp rested his closed fist on the door frame, instead of knocking on it, and he hesitated; he lifted his brow and let his glasses drop down from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose.
"Why not?" he asked, chewing his gum and tilting his head.
The writer at the desk, looking more perplexed with every second that was counted down on the clock that was on the wall, tapped his pencil against the top of his laptop before throwing it across the room in frustration.
Danny sucked in a sharp breath. "So... that's why, huh?"
"Yeah," Matt Albie said, sighing loudly before putting his hands through his hair. He sighed again and then said, "I'm eating it."
"What's the problem this time?" Danny asked, daring to step inside his partner's office. He thought about closing the door, but decided against it; he came up to the desk and tapped his fingers along its wooden surface. "Nothing funny happen this week?"
Matt looked up. "We've used up the funny stuff," he replied quietly, "and I can't make anything else funny happen."
Danny smirked. "I think we've had this conversation before... and I think you proved me wrong."
"Putting a baseball bat through a window isn't exactly---" he stopped short and looked up at his partner and friend. "Wait... you're in early. What's up?"
"What do you---"
Matt cut Danny off as he got up and went to the other side of his office to find a bottle of water. "You let me stew in my panic and self-loathing for at least an hour before you waltz in after breakfast and coffee and..." he trailed off and sighed. "What's up? And don't tell me it's nothing... that you suddenly got sick of breakfast, because I know how crazy you are about all things breakfast---"
"Except for making it for a sleepover guest the next morning," Danny muttered rubbing his forehead before moving his glasses back up.
"Except for that," Matt agreed, "but you're not the only one who doesn't like that breakfast."
Danny gave his friend a brief smile and moved away from the desk to look at the bulletin board, with its two sketch cards in place, and then to sit down on the nearby sofa.
"I want to hire someone for your writing staff," Danny told Matt.
"Who?" Matt asked. "You found a writer?"
"Not exactly."
Matt tilted his head. "You found someone who does stand up comedy and could be a writer with a little training?"
Danny shrugged. "That's... closer to the truth, but still..."
"Not exactly?" Matt supplied, closing his laptop with a sharp 'click' before he stood up and walked over to the middle of the room to sit opposite Danny. When his friend nodded, Matt's eyebrows jumped up. "Who exactly are you going to hire for me? A fashion model? A reporter? A politician?"
"We're like in mind meld right now... you and me," Danny said, a boyish grin on his face.
"Which one of those is this potential staffer?" Matt inquired, looking curious and nervous at the same time.
Danny leaned back and brought his right ankle onto his left knee. His glasses slipped when he moved backwards, but he pushed them back up onto his head in one smooth motion. "You know a woman named CJ Cregg?" he asked.
"There's another woman named CJ Cregg?"
Danny shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of... no."
"You know... she's not a writer, nor is she... in the entertainment industry," Matt pointed out, "I mean, she was sort of in the entertainment industry. And she was always very entertaining to watch. But then, she became the most powerful woman in the country and went off to run Franklin Hollis' non-profit organisation."
"Roads," Danny said quietly.
Matt grimaced slightly. "Not sexy."
"Not so much," Danny agreed.
"Anyway," Matt continued after a beat, "you know I have to ask if you're still going to meetings, right? Because this is kind of insane. I want to put experienced writers in the room with Darius and Lucy---I don't want to put the former White House Chief of Staff in the room."
"You wouldn't be putting the former White House Chief of Staff in the room," Danny asserted, "because you'd be putting a former White House Press Secretary in the room. She's smart, she's funny, she has entirely too much useless knowledge on her hands, and she knows how to poke a stick at both Democrats and Republicans." He paused and tilted his head. "She knows how to get a message across and she can tell the difference between good writing and bad writing."
Matt smiled. "Anything else?"
"She might be good for you," Danny added, "because she worked with Toby Ziegler and Sam Seaborn, and she knows how to handle the best of the best writers."
With a soft smile, Matt shrugged and then nodded. "Ziegler's a good writer," he said quietly. "Sam, too."
"Yeah," Danny agreed.
"Think they'd be interested in working for the show?"
Danny snorted. "That would be like crossing over to the dark side, wouldn't it?"
Matt shrugged again. "Maybe," he conceded.
He sighed and scratched the top of his head before pushing himself up and pacing around his office. Danny remained silent, watching his friend and partner walk around the room, pausing to stare at the countdown clock and the empty bulletin board from time to time; Matt's hourly ritual never bored him, but he knew it should since he had observed it at least a couple of thousand times since they had resumed working for the comedy show.
"They went easy on the White House when she was press secretary," Matt said quietly.
"Would you want to pick on CJ?"
Matt shook his head. "Nope," he said in that same quiet, pensive voice.
"You wanna---"
"I want to sit quietly for a moment," Matt interrupted.
"Okay," Danny agreed.
Four minutes and fifty-two seconds had counted down on Matt's deadline clock, and they still hadn't said a word. Danny opened his mouth and thought about saying something a couple of times, but Matt glared at him and killed the producer's desire to speak. Eight minutes and twenty-seven seconds had counted down on the clock before they were interrupted; they both glared at the intruders, but waited for them to dare to step inside (and to really intrude upon their silence) before saying anything themselves.
After clearing his throat and tightening his hold on his roll of ruled papers, Tom Jeter pointed to Suzanne, Matt's assistant, and said, "We're here separately."
Matt nodded, sat back down, and motioned with his hand for one of them to say whatever they had come to say.
"You want the White House press briefing footage?" Suzanne asked quietly, adjusting her clipboard against her arm.
He sighed and shared a look with Danny before nodding. "Sure... whatever. Is Lou still doing the briefings, though? Because she sort of scares me."
"She sort of scares everyone," Danny piped up.
"Who's Lou?" Tom asked.
"She's a---" Danny stopped short and shook his head. "Scary, small, alpha woman doing the briefings."
"Gotcha."
Suzanne made a quick note and looked up at Matt. "Okay," she said, "I'll make sure we get the tapes in. Someone told me it was... 'dump the garbage day' so---"
"'Take out the trash day,'" Danny corrected.
"How did you---" When Tom started to ask his question, Danny raised his eyebrows, but not enough to make his glasses fall off; so, Tom stopped asking his question. He bowed his head a bit in concession. "Because you know everything."
"Exactly."
Matt looked over at Tom. "What do you want?"
"I wanted to show you some of the news stuff we have---"
"Whatcha got, Tom?"
Tom stepped into the room as Suzanne darted back to her desk outside of Matt's office. "You want me to read it now?"
"It's either listen to what you've got or listen to Danny pitch me another ridiculous idea---" he stopped and turned to his producer-friend. "What next? Maybe we should hire Lou?"
Danny smiled and shook his head. "Nah... she'd never do it. She likes hitting the politicos directly."
"So why do you think---"
"I don't know," he interrupted with a grin.
Tom's eyes narrowed, confusion seeping into his facial expression, and he slowly looked from Matt to Danny. "What's going on?"
"Danny's having... an episode," Matt supplied dryly.
"Ohhh," Tom responded. "I had one of those once. The crying was a little humiliating but..." he trailed off and shrugged. "Sorry."
"We moving on?" Matt asked.
"Sure." Tom paused after replying to Matt's question, and he nodded a couple of times; then, he sucked in a sharp breath and unrolled his papers, before reading the words scribbled on them. "'President Santos' lobbyist bill, which would prevent lobbyists from doing most of what their job entails, is heading to a vote next week. Instead of performing whip counts, the White House has decided to monitor Chief of Staff Josh Lyman's receding hairline to---'"
He stopped short and sighed. "Are we assuming that the audience is going to know who Lyman is?"
Matt scratching his head. "Yeah... I don't know. Maybe. Let's shelve that one. What else do you have, Tom?"
"'TV talent show supremo Simon Cowell is to make a series searching for the leads for a new production of Grease. Auditions to find two unknowns to fill the roles of Sandy and Danny will begin in the near future with a view to a new stage production opening next summer---'"
"Seriously?" Danny asked, interrupting Tom.
Tom nodded. "Seriously."
"He's taken over television and music simultaneously, filling HMV and Amazon-dot-com with CDs by artists who shouldn't have record deals to begin with, and now he's taking over musical theatre?" Danny asked, whining a little. "Seriously?!"
"Seriously," Tom repeated.
"Where is that lead going?" Matt asked.
"To a remake of the film 'Wild Things,'" Tom replied, "that he's hosting in his bedroom."
"Hmm... okay," Matt agreed, shrugging. "What else?"
"Evangeline Lilly staging a live production of 'Lost' on her lawn, since her house burned down... and J. K. Rowling threatening to use 'Avada Kadava' on the airline staff because they balked at her taking her manuscript on the flight in her carry-on baggage," Tom replied, handing the sheets of paper over.
Matt nodded and smiled a bit as he scanned over the notes. "Good. Okay. They need to be finished up a bit, but... yeah," he said, handing the papers back to Tom.
"Knock, knock," Jordan McDeere said as she came into the office. She looked around, through her long, side-swept bangs and smiled at the group. "What's up?"
"J.K. Rowling wasn't allowed to take her new manuscript in her carry-on baggage," Tom supplied, "Simon Cowell's auditioning for a remake of Grease... and Danny's having an episode, but he's not crying yet, so I don't think it's a serious one."
Jordan brushed her bangs aside with the hand that was holding onto her Blackberry and then she tilted her head and asked, "Why couldn't she take a manuscript on the plane? Has the FAA deemed paper dangerous? Is there anything that the FAA hasn't deemed dangerous?"
"People?" Matt supplied.
She snorted. "Fair enough."
Danny stretched his arms over his head and rolled his head from side to side. "There's also the chance that it was over the weight-restriction... and that terrifies me because the whole world will stop for weeks while everyone reads Rowling's final volume, which weighs more than a Backstreet Boy?"
"That's a lot of paper," Tom agreed quietly.
"You're still here?" Matt asked, smiling.
Tom pressed his lips together for a moment and then said, "I should be working."
"You think?"
"Yeah... okay. See you later," Tom said, before rolling the papers back up and tapping them against the door. He disappeared, out of the office and down the hall, leaving Matt, Danny, and Jordan in the office.
Jordan sat down next to Danny and rubbed her pregnant belly. "Oof," she breathed.
He put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"
"Tired," she murmured, smiling at him. "Thanks."
"No problem," he said quietly, moving his hand to gently tweak her chin.
"You two finished or should I give you a moment alone?" Matt asked, an amused expression written all over his face. Danny leaned away from Jordan and looked back at Matt. When he lifted his eyebrows, Matt immediately put his hands up. "No, Danny. We're not going back to this---"
Jordan, her interest piqued, asked, "To what?"
"To a ridiculous idea that Danny had after his whole episode thing got started," Matt replied, before getting up and resuming his pacing pattern around his office.
"We're gonna need to re-carpet this office in a few months," Danny commented.
Matt snorted and waved his hands around, before stopping his pattern and returning to his desk to open his laptop and pound something out. Jordan looked at Danny, but he slid his hand down and covered hers while slightly shaking his head; she nodded and remained silent.
Once his laptop was closed again, Matt looked up and sighed. "She won't come work for us," he said pointedly.
Danny shrugged. "How do you know?"
"Because she's working for Franklin Hollis, fixing the world!" Matt exclaimed, waving his hands around a bit. "I wouldn't leave that behind!"
"Maybe we can just contract her for a couple of weeks," Danny suggested. "Get Darius and Lucy thinking and then let her sneak out."
"Would Hollis have a problem with her doing that?" Matt asked. "Plus, what if she decides to run for office one day? Wouldn't that wreck her chances of---"
Danny smirked. "Only if she became a Republican."
Jordan cleared her throat. "CJ Cregg?" she asked, patting her fingers against her swollen abdomen. "She's off... spending the profits of years of nanotechnology, isn't she?"
"Yeah."
"I met her once," Jordan said, "at the Women in Communications thing. She won the Matrix Award. She's very tall."
"What did she win the award for?" Matt asked.
She shot him a withering glare. "She discovered a comet," Jordan deadpanned. "What do you mean, 'for what?'"
Matt shrugged. "I don't know... she's done a lot. That's all."
Jordan smiled. "She has... she'd be a valuable asset to your wet-behind-the-ears writers," she said in an enthusiastic tone of voice, "and she's got a great sense of humour."
"But, she's working for Hollis," Matt pointed out.
"Roads?" Jordan asked.
"Roads," Matt confirmed.
Jordan grimaced. "Not sexy," she commented.
"Not so much," Danny agreed.
&&&&
When the car's driver turned towards the theatre building, CJ Cregg took her cellular phone away from her mouth and leaned forward. "Excuse me," she said to the older man in front of her, "but we're really going to the... to Studio 60? This isn't a rouse of some kind? A 'Candid Camera'-esque rouse, waiting to crash down upon my head---"
"No, ma'am," he insisted. "Danny Tripp and Matt Albie asked me to bring you to the studio for a meeting."
"You can tell when someone's pulling your leg, right?"
"Yes, ma'am."
CJ sighed and leaned back, and put the phone back to her ear. "Danny, the driver assures me this isn't a rouse... that it isn't a cheap punking based upon my addled brain and practically-nonexistent memory," she muttered. "This is apparently a meeting."
Her fiancé chuckled in her ear. "It's been a meeting since they called yesterday and set it up," he pointed out. "CJ, just go in and see what they want from you. Maybe they want you to guest star."
She laughed. "God... you're unhinged," she murmured affectionately. "I'm not an actress or a musician or... any of the types of people who host this show. And I already have a job."
"I think they know that," Danny said in reply, "because of, y'know, your boss being one of the most famous businessmen in the country and the fact that you did a huge press conference with his company a month ago to announce your new position?"
"You know... we did kind of publicise my new job, didn't we?"
"A little bit," Danny answered.
"On all major networks---"
"And probably NBS, included in there," Danny added.
CJ smiled. "Probably," she agreed, chuckling. The driver parked the car in front of the building, and started to get out, so he could open the door for CJ's exit. "I'm here," she said quietly.
"Knock 'em dead, Claudia Jean," he said, an affectionate tone in her voice. "And call me when it's over, okay?"
"You got it," she murmured, having learned her lesson the first time they tried to discuss her next career and their future together. "Don't forget to water the plants, Danny."
"You got it," he said, a smile in his voice before he ended the call.
CJ slipped her Blackberry into her purse as the driver opened the door. She smiled at him and then slipped out of the back seat as gracefully as she possibly could, finding herself face to face with someone she was certain she was supposed to know; however, she couldn't place his face with his name, so she ended up smiling awkwardly until he spoke up.
"Ms. Cregg, it's great to meet you," he said, grinning and extending his hand. "I'm Matt Albie---"
"The writer," she interrupted, smiling back at him. "Some of my friends are big fans... when they heard you and Danny Tripp were going back to the show, they were pretty excited. Toby gave his lecture class bonus points if they watched your first show."
"Toby Ziegler's teaching comedic writing now?"
CJ laughed. "No, the Constitution. But, he's a pretty big fan of yours."
"The class' average didn't break the bank, did it?" Matt asked.
"Not... so much, no," CJ conceded. She cleared her throat and adjusted her purse on her arm. "So, can I ask you something?"
"You just did."
After laughing again, she wagged a finger at him. "Funny boy," she scolded.
"What do you want to know?"
"Why am I meeting with you and Danny Tripp?" CJ blurted out, before Matt guided her towards the doors.
Matt snorted. "Danny had a nutty," he explained, opening the door and ushering her through it. "And now, I'm just humouring him."
"Wow... I feel special," CJ said in a wry voice, walking alongside the head writer for 'Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.' "You really know how to charm the women."
"That's what Harriet tells me," he quipped, guiding her through the studio to a staircase. "Or, I should say, she yells at me a lot, so I guess I'm not really that charming, am I?"
"Yeah... no," CJ murmured politely. "You might want to work on that."
Matt shot her a smile. "Yeah, I'm not so sure how many second chances I have left."
CJ chuckled and followed him up the stairs and into an office. Another man was waiting there; CJ recognised him as Danny Tripp, and she smiled when he stepped forward to shake her hand.
"CJ," he said, smiling warmly, "nice to see you again. You're dry this time."
She laughed. "Well, if there's a swimming pool around here, perhaps hundreds of notable Democrats, maybe we can change all of that," she shot back.
"You're in luck," he commented, "no swimming pool."
"This is all very civil for a practical joke," CJ pointed out, after taking the comfortable seat they offered her.
The executive producer chuckled and sat down across from her. "This isn't a joke, CJ---"
"We're here to exchange... wardrobe tips? Hair advice?" CJ interrupted in an amused tone of voice. "I like my hair the way it is, but you should be careful, Danny," she advised, "because I have a friend who has a hairline like yours and when he cuts his hair short, those two receding lines look much more pronounced than they are."
Matt shook his head and chuckled. "CJ, we wouldn't dream of changing your hair."
"Or anything else about you," Danny added, "because we think you're kind of perfect."
"Only kind of?" CJ asked, crossing her legs. "If you're trying to woo me to do something for you... insulting my perfection isn't really the way to go."
"Thanks for the tip," Danny said, tilting his head and studying her with a smile stretching his lips.
She smirked. "No problem," she said, almost purring as she smoothed her hands over the arms of the chair. "So... why am I here? You want to have one of your comedians involved in Hollis' non-profit project?"
Matt shifted on the sofa. "No..."
"Not quite."
"You want me to guest star on your show?"
Danny smiled. "If we thought you could act, sure," he said, crossing his legs to loosely mirror CJ's crossed legs. "Do you want to guest star on our show?"
"I'm afraid of what would happen if I did," she admitted.
"Stage fright?"
CJ shook her head. "Chronic clumsiness."
"That's funny," Danny commented.
"For everyone else but me," CJ agreed, nodding slightly.
Matt leaned forward slightly. "I'm sure plenty of the cast feels that way on the show."
"Probably," CJ conceded.
He chuckled and nodded, before scratching the top of his head and leaning back against the sofa. He looked over at his friend and shrugged; in reply, Danny shrugged back.
"Stop speaking in code," CJ scolded, "because I stopped in L.A. as a favour to you, Danny, and I'm on my way to New York to speak with the Ambassador to---"
"Danny wants you to sit in his writing room for a couple of weeks, at least, and help his new writers out," Matt interjected.
CJ hesitated and then uncrossed her legs. She tilted her head and studied the two men silently, before she let her eyes scan around the room. She didn't know what was happening, and she wasn't entire sure that the meeting wasn't a practical joke of some kind; she half-expected to see cameras tucked in corners of the writer's office.
"Help them... do what exactly?" CJ asked.
"Figure out what's funny... how to condense and clarify the message... all that stuff," Danny explained with a wave of his hand. "You in?"
"Hold on," CJ answered quietly, putting her hand up. "You want me to... what?"
"Help them figure out how to attack the Left and the Right, help them by teaching them about the medium and the message and... and stuff like that," Danny said. "You were good at the press secretary gig and you have a few clues about politics---"
"A few clues," CJ echoed in a very amused tone of voice as she crossed her legs again.
"A few," he agreed, smirking. He chuckled and shook his head slightly before adding, "In case you haven't noticed, we do a lot of political commentary in our sketches."
"Do you?" CJ asked jokingly.
Danny flashed her a grin. "Yeah... political comedy's pretty trendy right now."
CJ grinned back at him and tilted her head. "Fascinating..."
"No kidding," Matt said, hoping to interrupt Danny's and CJ's conversation. "But, seriously, folks, can we talk about staffing my writing room?"
The tall woman turned her gaze to the writer. She inhaled slowly, her shoulders rising and her chest expanding, and then she spoke. "I can't just leave the Hollis project," she said in an even tone of voice. "And I don't know how good it looks... politically speaking, to work for a group that smacks both Democrats and Republicans around---"
"If you run for Congress or the Senate around here, you'd have Hollywood's vote locked up," Matt said with a smile.
CJ laughed. "Oh... I don't know about that," she murmured.
"We do," Danny insisted.
"I do have a hiatus coming up in the near future," she admitted. "After my New York trip, in fact. If you still want me to come in and do whatever it is you want me to do---"
Danny's eyebrows crept up. "Help season the room," he supplied.
"Well, whatever," she replied. "I'm still not completely sure how I'm supposed to do that. But, I'll seriously consider doing it, whatever it is, after I come back from New York."
"Really?" Matt asked, looking a little surprised.
CJ shrugged before speaking. "Really... yeah... but on top of a contract fee, I'd like a few of tickets to the show."
"As many as you'd like, Claudia Jean," Danny assured her. "You want a whole row? A tour? Invites to the after party? You got it."
She chuckled softly. "You're very accommodating, Danny."
He grinned. "I try."
"Hardly... if ever," Matt muttered.
After chuckling again, CJ looked down at her watch and uncrossed her legs. "Well, I better get going," she said, sounding a little more reluctant than she had expected herself to sound. "I have to get back to the airport---"
"Oh, yeah... right. Of course," Matt said, hopping to his feet. "I---"
"I'll show CJ out," Danny offered. "You get back to work. We still don't have the Monday sketch."
Matt grunted and tried to kick his friend; CJ smothered a small laugh and slipped her purse over her arm. "Maybe you could have the President come to the set to lecture the cast on how to properly attack the political establishment?" she suggested.
The writer turned and glared at Danny, who grinned and shrugged. "I'm the puppet-master, remember?"
"Yeah, yeah..."
CJ wanted to ask what that exchange was about, but Danny motioned for her to join him, so she instead told Matt it was nice to meet him; then, she unfolded herself and stood up, following Danny out of the office when he tilted his head towards the door.
Once they were walking down the hallway, CJ looked at him. "Why are you the puppet-master?"
He puffed his chest out a bit. "Because I give him the ideas for his best sketches... and he's rarely aware it happened until after it happened," he explained, "and it drives him insane."
"That's perfectly understandable," CJ reasoned. She looked at him again for a moment. "Was this whole thing a rouse? Do you really---"
"---want you to help his new writers out? Desperately," Danny cut in.
CJ smiled. "You're very persistent."
"Some women find that endearing---"
"Others find it annoying, I'm sure," she teased.
"Yeah, well, they don't matter so much," he joked, grinning at her.
CJ found herself grinning back at him as he guided her to the front door of the studio, where her car was waiting. He escorted her to the vehicle, where her driver had opened the door upon seeing her emerge from the building, and then he kissed her cheek.
"Thanks for helping us out, CJ," he said quietly. "You're a class act. Have I told you that lately?"
She smiled. "Not since I fell in the pool at the fundraiser."
"Technically, you were pushed," he said in a quiet voice. "I saw the Italian guy gesticulating wildly---"
"Well, it wouldn't have looked good if I accused him of trying to drown me," she murmured.
"Class act."
CJ chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said quietly, leaning away from him. "I'll have my assistant call your office when I get back from New York."
He grinned and nodded and helped her into the back seat of the dark car. Once the door was closed behind her, once the car was on its way to the airport, she picked her phone up, and called her fiancé.
When he answered the phone, she laughed in his ear and said, "Danny... you won't believe what they asked me..."
