*********

The curly-haired assistant campaign manager, one of only two straight workers at the Yes 99 headquarters, strolled through the room like he owned the world, causing a number of half-pining sighs to rise up behind him. “Good morning, people!” he called. “Today’s gonna be a great day. I can feel it!”

Rigo felt like he was about to run the campaign leader over with a truck — or maybe get run over by one himself. He came up hesitantly, reluctant to break the good mood. They caught up with each other by the coffeepot. “Josh?”

Josh turned and smiled broadly at him. “Rigo, my good man!” Spontaneously, he handed the younger man the coffee he had poured, then turned back to get himself a new cup. He could conquer the world today. Anything was possible. Everything was going right on the campaign; he had a phone conversation with his parents the night before that hadn’t ended in a huge fight, and this morning he had finally gotten the phone number of the green-eyed barista in the coffee shop up the street. When he thought of that, and the double-espresso he’d downed to get up the nerve to ask for it, he realized how little he needed the coffee in his hand and passed it to a bewildered staffer passing by. “So, Rigo,” he said, throwing his arm jauntily around his shoulders, “are you ready to kick Representative Needling’s ass today?”

“Josh—“

“You and me, Rigo. We’re going to save the planet.” He looked around the bustling campaign headquarters. “Well, you, me, and all these other great, hard-working people. Right, people?” A few of the staffers cheered briefly, but most correctly put Josh’s weird mood down to caffeine overload (everyone knew how much coffee he was drinking to be close to the coffee-shop worker) and kept doing their jobs.

“Josh, listen to me.”

Josh forced his concentration onto Rigo. Quite a good-looking guy, Rigo. If Josh had happened to swing that way — no, he definitely wasn’t concentrating. What were they putting in that coffee? No matter. If it helped him conquer the world... “What’s the good word, my friend?”

Rigo looked like he was about to walk into the lions’ den. “Senator Decorah…”

Josh felt his great mood threaten to slip away. He grasped it like a life preserver. “What about her?”

“She has some...problems with the bill.”

“What! Oh, damn it!” There went his elation. Right there. He waved good-bye to it. “What kind of problems?”

“Legal problems, I think.”

“Well, of course there are legal problems.” He breathed again. Maybe he’d misunderstood. “That’s why we have the bill.”

“Josh, I wasn’t there for the conversation, but I assume she meant the bill itself has legal problems.”

Josh exhaled sharply. Whatever happened to good days that stayed good? When was the last time he had one of those? He glanced sharply at Rigo. “When did she do this?”

“About an hour and a half ago.”

“What the hell? An hour and a half? And I’m just finding out now? Rigo—“

Rigo threw up his hands. “Don’t get mad at me, Josh. I’m just the messenger. Talk to Lisa.”

Lisa. Josh should’ve guessed she’d be at the bottom of this. “You better believe I will.” In fact, he would do it right now. He stalked over to Lisa’s office and tried to keep his anger marginally in check as he knocked on her open door. “Hey, Lisa.”

Lisa’s eyes darted to Josh’s face like a deer hearing someone cock a rifle, but Josh’s tone was so casual he might not have heard yet. “Morning, Josh.”

“Anything interesting happen before I got in?”

Now she was a little scared, but she had to keep playing along. “Not really.”

“Really? Nothing like, oh, I don’t know, maybe that Jean Decorah dropped her support of 9980 an hour and a half ago and I’m just finding out about it now?”

How well Lisa knew that edge in Josh’s voice, and how she hated it. “Josh—“

“An hour and a half ago, Lisa. I should know these things the instant they happen. In fact, I should know these instant before they happen, so I can keep them from happening.”

“Josh, I—“

“How could you not tell me?”

“I was trying — I was hoping to figure out a way to fix it before I came to you.”

He crossed his arms. “What did you come up with?”

She shook her head sadly. “Nothing. I couldn’t...Josh, this isn’t me. This isn’t the job I was prepared to do. But you begged me — you begged me to take it. I thought I could stick it, but...”

“I know. It’s not — I was wrong. I forced you to make a deal you should never have had to make.” He took a deep breath. “And now I’m releasing you from it.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“If you want out of the campaign, I’ll let you go. No arguments.”

“Josh, I never meant—“

“No, you didn’t, but it shows, Lisa. It really does. You’re my friend, and I’ll be thrilled if you stay, but if you do, the excuses are over. No more, ‘Josh, I can’t do this,’ or ‘Josh, I’m not trained for this.’ You just buckle down and do the work.”

She bit her lip and nodded, trying to keep back tears. She’d found it harder and harder to do her job as the weeks wore on, but she never expected Josh to hand her a way out. She should refuse. She should say, “Of course I’ll stay, Josh. I’ll do the work and do it well.” But she wanted him to be proud of her, and she knew the best way to win that admiration was complete honesty — with herself as well as with him. “You’ll have my resignation in the morning.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, Lisa.”

“So am I.”

They looked at each other a minute, then he headed to his own office, yelling for his assistant. “Janet? I need the first twenty minutes Jean Decorah has....”

**********

“Man, what are you doing?” Nate sprawled on the couch, watching his frenetic dark-haired roommate pace from window to window, trying to peer around the building across the street. “You can’t see it from here. Give up.”

“No!” His roommate’s blue eyes blazed as he stalked to the other side of the room. “If I stand at this window but lean back toward that one, I can almost...” He sighed. “I can’t almost see it.”

“Don’t feel bad, Seaborn. Think of it as solidarity with the millions of other people who won’t get to see the President.” Nate gestured at the chessboard set up almost accidentally on the coffee table, adrift in a sea of papers and law books. “It’s your move. Drink your beer; take a turn.”

Sam sat on the floor across the table from his roommate and pondered the board, absently wiping condensation from his beer bottle. “You know the difference between me and those millions of other people?”

Nate smiled indulgently. He and Sam had been friends a long time, and they understood each other pretty damned well. “You care,” Nate offered.

Sam grinned up at him. “I care.”

Two hours later, Nate had cleaned Sam’s clock on the chessboard. As the young lawyer lay his king on its side, he yawned and stretched. “I should turn in if I want to be of any use tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Why would you need to be useful? You’re so useful all the rest of the time you should relish the opportunity to loaf.”

“Normally I would,” Sam said, draining his beer. “But if Roger’s parents are coming this weekend, I want to help you clean.”

Nate groaned at this reminder of impending domestic tragedy as he put the chessboard away. “Maybe they won’t show. After all, this is the fourth time they’ve planned to come. They haven’t made it yet; my odds are good for another cancellation, right?”

“Nate,” Sam admonished, "that’s the same logic people use to say there won’t be a big earthquake in California because there hasn’t been one so far.”

“Maybe he’s making them up,” Nate said hopefully.

“You never know. The first three months, I thought you were making Roger up.”

“Thanks.” The chemist stared out the window toward the auditorium Sam couldn’t quite see. “Why is it so important for you to see the President, anyway?”

Sam stared at him. “He’s the President.”

“You didn’t vote for him.”

“He’s still the leader of the country, Nate.”

“You hate him and everything he stands for.”

“Well, sure, when you say it like that...” Sam sat next to Nate and turned his empty beer bottle in his hands. “I—the people I work with, you know, they love him. They voted for him. Their families voted for him. They’d have voted for him twice if they could’ve found a way. I keep thinking—“

“If you want to fit in in their world, you have to think the way they do.”

“Yeah. Is that stupid?”

His roommate gave him a sympathetic look. “It’s not stupid, Sam. It’s just unrealistic. You’ve always known you don’t fit in with the pool-and-Land-Rover Republicans you work with. But you made a choice.”

“Some choice. Sam, you can pursue public interest law and make barely enough to support yourself, or you can take this nice fat job at Gage Whitney and made more in a year than some people see their entire working lives. Let me tell you, I tossed and turned over that one.” He shook his head.

“I know you did,” Nate said quietly.

Sam looked over at him, eyes wide with shock. “I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t.” When Sam looked like he was going to deny it again, Nate reminded him, “Who’s lived on the other side of your wall for three years? I know when you go a week without sleeping. You’re not a quiet non-sleeper.”

“Jeez, Nate, I kept you up? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“To what? Have a conflicted conscience? Sam, if you went through your life without a sleepless night I’d say you had no soul. I know how hard it was for you to choose the job at Gage Whitney over the internship at ACLU.”

“How did you know about the internship?”

“Sam.”

“All right. You know everything. I just have to accept that.”

“Yes.” They laughed, then fell silent. Nate said, hesitantly, “Listen, Sam, I don’t know if this is such a good idea now, with you working at Gage Whitney with the Republicans and everything, but...never mind.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Nate, I’ve known you as long as you’ve known me. I can tell the ‘it’s nothing’ voice that means it’s really nothing from the one that means ‘oh God, Sam, don’t make me come out to my parents.’”

He laughed. “Nothing as bad as that, I promise. I just wanted…well, you seem a little...lost since graduation. And I thought — the campaign headquarters for Prop 9980 is about five blocks from your office.”

A spark lit Sam’s eyes. “Really?” Then the spark snuffed out. “I couldn’t. I mean, there’s no way I could — could I?”

Nate laughed. “You are something else, man. You know that?”

“I know.” Sam crossed back to the window, but now his attention was turned far from the huge chrome-and-glass office building where the President would speak on Monday afternoon. By Monday, Sam could be volunteering at the Yes 99 campaign. Couldn’t he?

Things had been simpler in college, and when he’d been a congressional aide, and even into law school. He had always been a progressive, supporting a number of fairly unpopular causes because they spoke to him. Abortion. Litigation rights. Campaign finance reform. But now he worked on the other side of the fence, with people whose views were a complete departure from what he’d believed before. He hadn’t stopped believing what he used to, but to keep the peace at Gage Whitney it had been easiest to put those beliefs away and not start fights. It seemed best.

Time had passed, though; the Gage Whitney job started looking less like a gig and more like a career, and he felt the old convictions fading. The school-voucher and suburban roadways beliefs of his colleagues had not replaced them. In fact, they weren’t being replaced by anything. Some days, his apathy amazed even himself. To get in on Yes 99, a fast and furious campaign trying to ensure passage of a remarkable gay rights bill...but could he? While gay rights weren’t as explosive an issue at the firm as, say, property tax issues, it could be a sore point, plus the mere fact of his being involved in what was seen by many as a strictly left-wing effort—

Nate watched silently, barely blinking so he didn’t miss any of the emotions that crossed Sam’s face. They’d known each other so long; there was a time he could read Sam as well as he could his brothers, his parents, his lover with the imaginary parents. But since Sam took the job at Gage Whitney, Nate had felt him slipping away. Nate could’ve handled that if it felt like Sam was slipping *to* somewhere else; if his scary corporate co-workers had proven to be the family he’d been seeking since he left California. Instead, the lawyer was just drifting somewhere out on his own. Bringing up the 9980 campaign had been Roger’s idea, and Nate had to agree that offering Sam an anchor — well, even if he didn’t take it, at least he’d be forced to think about it.

“Do you really think I could do it?”

“Are you not the smartest man I know?”

“If that’s the case, you need to meet more men,” Sam joked. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it’s not. And I can’t answer that question; I don’t know the Gage Whitney pressure cooker as well as you do. All I can say is that, if it’s a firm that isn’t going to look kindly on my friend supporting a cause he believes in, maybe it’s not a place my friend wants to work.”

“Yeah.” Sam stared at his hands a moment. “I bet Roger would be thrilled if I was working there.”

“He said he’d make you an honorary gay guy.”

Sam threw his head back and laughed a little harder than Nate expected. “Well, you tell him I appreciate that.”

“Tell him yourself when he shows up with his fake parents tomorrow night.” Nate stood. “Which is the not-so-subtle way of saying get your sorry ass to bed so you can help me clean in the morning.”

“I’m going.” Sam stretched and walked toward his bedroom.

Nate headed to the kitchen to clean the last of the dinner dishes. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” “You gonna do it?”

The lawyer paused in the doorway. “I honestly have no idea.”

********

Josh walked into Yes 99 headquarters looking grim and determined, clutching a sheaf of papers in his hand and glaring the shit out of anyone who crossed his path. He looked so different from the “man on top of the world” of the day before that people wondered which one was pod-Josh. Stopping in the middle of the office, he looked around wearily, running a hand through his hair. “All right, people, listen up!” he called. “Is anybody here a lawyer?”

“Aren’t you a lawyer, Josh?” Rigo hadn’t seen Josh come in, so he didn’t realize how thin the ice was under his feet.

He got the message quickly enough when Josh glared a dagger into him. “A real lawyer.”

Kelly came up behind Josh and touched his shoulder. “What’s going on, Josh?” she asked quietly. The staffers breathed a sigh of relief for the woman who had the key to defusing Josh. It came from eight years handling her volatile girlfriend.

He waved the papers forlornly. “I’ve got…it’s all this...stuff from Senator Decorah. Problems she says the bill’s going to run into if it passes. She outlined it for me, but I don’t understand...if we don’t get someone to explain it to us in terms we get, and I mean now, we’re screwed. Unfortunately...”

“We can’t ask someone to explain it without it getting out that there are these problems,” she finished.

“Yeah. Which is why I was wondering if..."

Sam watched from the back of the room. He had snuck in fairly early this morning. No one noticed him, and he didn’t want anyone to notice him until he was sure if he was staying. This could be a ridiculous move on his part; it could set his career back years, if not kill it outright. But Nate, damn him, had started an itch in the back of Sam’s brain that wouldn’t go away until Sam made some effort to scratch it. So he stood at the back of Yes 99 headquarters and watched the staff. They seemed so coordinated, so efficient. Everyone knew exactly where they were headed and what they were doing. He had been on the verge of slipping away.

Then the curly-haired guy with the papers stormed in, and Sam was transfixed. The guy looked lost, furious, annoyed, and confused all at once. He looked like a man normally in charge of a lot of things — including himself — who had lost his grip. Maybe they don’t have it all together after all, Sam thought. Maybe there’s a way I can help. And when the curly-haired guy asked for a lawyer, Sam knew he wouldn’t be walking out the door. He stepped forward, hesitant but committed. “I’m a lawyer.”

The guy (Josh. They called him Josh) looked at him. Sam expected a tirade — “Who the hell are you; who the hell let you in; what the hell do you want?” — that kind of thing. Especially since the woman who calmed Josh down mentioned not wanting word of the problem to get around. Sam squared his shoulders and prepared for the worst. “Thank God,” Josh breathed. “Look at this crap and tell me if it makes any sense to you.”

Sam took the papers and began scanning them. It made perfect sense to him, and the problems Senator Decorah was talking about were dire but surmountable. “Yeah,” he said, pulling his glasses and a red pen out of his pocket, “I can fix this.”

“Hallelujah!” Josh shouted. “Everybody can relax.” No one bothered to mention that he was the only one who’d been panicking. “What’s-his-name says he can fix it.” His jubilant smile faded. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name.”

Sam grinned and stuck out his hand. “Actually, you never knew it. Sam Seaborn. It’s my first day.”

“Josh Lyman, assistant campaign manager. I hope we haven’t scared you too much. Well, OK; I hope I haven’t scared you too much.”

“Nah. Believe me, I understand having people throw you things you don’t understand.”

“Rough job, huh?”

“I work at Gage Whitney Pace.”

“Gage Whitney?” Josh whistled. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You know Roger Davies?”

“From Cornerstone? Sure. Great guy.”

“I’m Nate Holland’s roommate.”

Josh slapped his forehead. “You’re that Sam? Oh, jeez, how did I miss that? Nate and Roger talk about you all the time! Listen—“

“Josh?” Sam tried to see the source of the female voice, but he couldn’t see over Josh’s shoulders.

“Lisa.” Josh sighed. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just...how’d it go with Decorah?”

“Could’ve been worse. Could’ve been better, if I’d gotten to her sooner. Sam’s looking over the information she gave me.”

“Sam?”

Josh stepped aside, and Sam faced a short, nervous blond. “Lisa, this is Sam Seaborn, a real lawyer from Gage Whitney who’s gonna help us out.” Sam couldn’t be sure, but he thought Josh leaned a little on the “us.” “Sam, this is Lisa Sherbourne, our media coordinator.”

Lisa shook Sam’s hand; her touch was warm and gentle and started a wave in Sam he hadn’t felt in quite some time. “Soon to be former media coordinator,” she said.

“You’re leaving?”

She shrugged. “Greener pastures.” He didn’t believe it, and a glance at Josh confirmed that Lisa was just putting up a brave front.

“It was nice meeting you, anyway. You’re not leaving today, are you?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. I’ve got a week.”

“I’ll look forward to that week, then.”

She smiled softly and a little sadly and started walking away. “Josh, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Josh nodded, but he was watching Sam’s face as Lisa disappeared into her office. “You’re wasting your time there, friend.”

Sam laughed ruefully. “Yeah, I figured.“ “Actually, you, Lisa, and I are the only straight ones in here. I mean — I didn’t mean to presume—“

“It’s OK, man.” That didn’t answer the question, but Sam realized he was finally in an environment where it didn’t matter who you slept with, so long as you did your work.

“No, Lisa’s not gay. She’s—“

“Oh, man, Josh, I’m sorry! I had no idea she was—“

“With me?” Josh laughed. “Oh my God, no. She’s just...she’s just Lisa. I know that’s no explanation, but...well, get to know her and you’ll understand.”

“OK.” Sam could handle any plan that involved getting to know Lisa better. But for now he had work to do. He beckoned Josh over. “Now, this is the problem the Senator’s having...”