"But It's A Dry Heat" challenge response by cretkid aka cal

TITLE: "But It's a Dry Heat"

AUTHOR: CretKid (cretkid@juno.com) aka Cal

RATING: PG

CATEGORY: General

SUMMARY: 3 staffers, a car, a midnight spin-doctoring, and a desert. Need I say more?

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. I don't intend to make money off them. And if we didn't care about the characters so much, we wouldn’t be doing this in the first place. Beat that with a stick.

"Get in the car."

"But it's beautiful out here."

"Let me reiterate. Get in the car, NOW."

"The blue sky, the clean air. It's a beautiful place."

"It is not, it's a desert. It's bright and it's hot."

"But it's a dry heat."

"Don't toy with me right now, if you know what's good for you, Princeton. I'm not in the mood."

"Yes, Mom."

"Don't 'Mom' me, I'm not your mother. I would never wish to be your mother, and I feel sorry for the woman that is because she had to deal with all your neuroses as you were growing up. For the last time, get in the car NOW!"

Sam grumbled as he climbed into the passenger seat of the Suburban. The tinted windows were rolled down as far as they would go, which wasn't far considering it was a Secret Service vehicle. He didn't want to close the door just yet. The temperature in the car was stifling hot. There was a brisk breeze blowing, sending the scent of gasoline wafting through the car. They had been driving for 3 hours, and would have continued on the road if the three large coffees he had drunk had not been sitting in his bladder. Now, he was relegated to the passenger seat, and he hated riding shotgun.

He looked over the head rest to stare down at the person lying across the back seat. "You must be feeling better, you're arguing with me again."

"Shut up. Where the hell are we?"

"Death Valley Junction."

"Well, that's appropriate." Toby tried to sit up, but his head decided altitude was not in his future. "How long can it possibly take to go to the bathroom? Where the hell is CJ?"

The passenger side back door opened just then, flooding Toby's eyes with sunlight. He squinted and tried to roll away from the offensive light.

"Right here, you big baby." She dropped two one-liter bottles of water, a box of saltines and a bottle of antihistamines on his stomach. "Drink. You're dehydrated."

"Your bedside manner is atrocious."

"I told you not to come with us to Los Angeles, but NOO-OOH. You had to drag yourself to the plane. Did you ever see a doctor?"

"I've actually seen several doctors. Dr. Lee. Dr. Rizutto. Dr. Young. Dr.--"

"Medical doctors, Toby, not people with PhD's in sociology, psychology, or education."

"Then the answer would be no."

"Then you get no sympathy from me." CJ slammed the door, muffling Toby's protestations.

As CJ opened the driver's door, Sam said, "Remind me never to call you when I'm sick." He closed his own door and put on his seatbelt.

"Hey, I'm perfectly capable of doing all the, you know, nurturing crap when the mood suits me. And that does not happen when certain people, who shall remain nameless, ignore an ear infection for 3 weeks straight."

"This coming from the person who needed emergency root canal after ignoring pain for a month."

"Shut up, Toby." She climbed into the car seat and immediately banged her knees against the steering wheel. Muffling her own curses, she set the seat back and moved the steering wheel to a more normal position. "Sam, how the hell can you drive like that? I mean, it's inhuman how close you sit to the steering wheel."

"I'm sorry, CJ, not everyone in this universe has legs the size of redwoods."

"Normally, I would take offense at that, except right now I need all my brain power to get us to San Francisco since you led us on this merry detour." She put the truck into gear and turned onto the highway.

"It wasn't a detour, it was scenic."

"I told you we should have taken Interstate 15 and not 95."

"Children, please," Toby called from the back seat.

"Shut up, Toby!" Sam and CJ cried.

Silence reigned for a spell before Sam turned on the radio. "What are doing?" CJ asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

"Looking for NPR. We should make sure no one picked up on yesterday's little escapade."

"Yeah, like Bob Edwards is going to have something to say about racial profiling in Boulder City, Nevada."

"He might if Rob Mendoza broke his promise and flew off the handle last night." Toby sat up slowly in the back seat, favoring his head in his hands and looking distinctly green.

"But that's why we have you, Toby. For some reason, God only knows why, he will listen to you." CJ smiled as she spied him in the rear view mirror.

"That man doesn't listen to me. He lives to make my life pure torture. How the hell did this land on his desk anyway?"

"Stop talking and start drinking. You're dehydrated."

"I am not."

"You are so, and don't lie to me, I heard you puking this morning."

"How?"

"Thin walls, Toby. Howard Johnson is not your best friend when it comes to keeping things quiet."

"Someone answer my question. I want to know how Rob Mendoza learned of this." Toby leaned his head back and talked to the ceiling.

Sam turned in his seat so that he could hear Toby better. "It's my guess that Congressman Riley tipped him off. Isn't he gung-ho for the racial profiling thing they've been kicking around the Hill the past few weeks?"

"I want Riley strung up by his ears," Toby said.

"I don't hear you drinking. And take one of those antihistamines." CJ called, deciding that taking the highway through Death Valley would be faster than trying to get back to Interstate 15.

"Why?"

"'Cause that's what Abbey said to do."

"You tattled on me to the First Lady?"

"Yes."

"Now I want you strung up by your ears."

"Then Sam would have to drive."

"Nevermind."

"Hey!" Sam protested.

CJ found Toby again in the rear view mirror. "If it's any consolation to you, I got an earful for knowing about you being sick and not stopping you from coming here in the first place."

"Well, as long as I'm not the only one in the dog house, then yes, I do feel better."

Sam turned around in his seat and watched the scenery go by. "Wait. I want to know why you want Riley strung up by his ears. He has something valid to say about racial profiling.

"Lt. Samuel Peterson was pulled over in Boulder City, Nevada, supposedly for rolling a stop sign. The cops that pulled him over asked for license and registration for the Toyota 4-Runner he was driving. There was no stop sign to roll, and the cops seemed more interested in the contents of his cab than giving a real explanation for pulling him over. Despite the fact that he was able to produce his military ID and in fact prove that he worked at Nellis Air Force Base, the cops were not satisfied until they could search his vehicle. When he refused, he was arrested and charged with failure to comply with a police officer's request. And you're telling me that the fact Lt. Peterson was black had nothing to do with it?"

"I'm not saying Riley is wrong. I want anyone who is going to keep me on this god-forsaken side of the country any longer than I have to strung up by their ears. It has nothing to do with racial profiling."

"Well, I'm glad we have that settled."

"You have to admit, if Mendoza had come out here to speak his mind, it would have been a bigger political fiasco than us dealing with Riley last night." CJ switched lanes and floored it.

"Yeah, Riley by himself is a press fiasco. I'm amazed no one has picked up on this yet."

"Well, when things like this happen at 1 AM in the morning, it's a little easier to hide," CJ pointed out. "Luckily we got there before Riley did. You can thank Mendoza for the tip-off."

"I'm never thanking that man for anything."

"Just remember that we need Riley and the votes he can guarantee us on campaign finance reform."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, Sally Leadfoot, don't get us pulled over," Toby said.

"Yes, Dad."

"Why am I suddenly everyone's parent?"

"Because you do it so well?" Sam ad-libbed.

"Shut up, the both of you. We're heading where?"

"San Francisco." Sam flipped the visor down and moved it to block more of the sun coming in from his side of the car.

"Why not Los Angeles? We left from there."

"Because the President is in San Francisco now."

"I'm in hell. I hate the West Coast. Nothing good ever comes out of being on this side of the country."

"It's raining in D.C. right now."

"I could care less."

CJ swatted Sam's arm. "Heckle and Jeckle, cut it out. Toby, take your medicine, please."

"It's going to make me fall asleep."

"That's the whole point."

"You are an evil woman, CJ Cregg."

"Yeah, well, I live in a man's world: I take what I can get. And if that means drugging you into oblivion so that I can get to San Francisco without you and Sam as back seat drivers, then all the better."

"I am not a back seat driver."

"I beg to differ. Why am I driving again?"

"Because Sam would lead us on a tour of all the national parks in the state of California."

"That's not what you said forty minutes ago. You said, and I quote, 'Sam, if you don't pull over and let CJ drive, I am going to shove the steering column so far up your--'"

"I get the point."

"Thank you."

"I just want to add," Sam started, "that there is nothing wrong with my driving."

"No, just your navigation," Toby proclaimed, lying down in the back seat.

Sam conceded the point and continued to stare out the window. "I'm telling you, I could have sworn it was the North Star."

"Face it, you're never going to live that down. Just add it to the list of things remembered when we finally leave office and we can all reminisce the times you made a complete ass of yourself," CJ said, adjusting the air conditioning.

"I don’t have the monopoly on making an ass of myself."

"Sleeping with a call girl," CJ started.

Toby added, "Following a plane, thinking it was the North Star."

"Starting a fire with the flue welded shut." CJ passed another car.

"Having your head handed to you on a platter by a leggy Republican girl." Toby mumbled.

"Okay, can we not have this conversation?" Sam pleaded.

"You started it," CJ and Toby said at the same time.

"Then can we focus on Josh for a while?"

"Sure. That should pass a lot of time."

END