Title:
Margarita Madeleina
Author: cgb
(luberluber@yahoo.com.au)
Web: http://appelsini.tripod.com/Christine
Category: f/f
Mandy/ Ainsley
Rating: PG - 13
Disclaimer: I give
up.
Archive: Yeeeees.
Summary: "
These days she's rarely in a celebratory mood but everyone has
their breaking
point."
A sequel of sorts
to my stories "Eyes Grow Feet" (CJ/ Ainsley) and "Bound to
be Moving On"
(CJ/ Mandy). Not necessary to know what happens in those
stories at all.
*
The first thing she
remembers is the margaritas. There were margaritas.
Many, many
margaritas. There was an engagement too, and she brought a round
of drinks in honour
of the happy couple - which is the kind of extravagance
one indulges after
a sizeable quantity of alcohol. Sober, she may have been
more proprietous
with her diminishing finances.
She thinks about
checking her wallet. She thinks about checking she still
has a wallet.
These days she's
rarely in a celebratory mood but everyone has their
breaking point.
Last night she danced to Diana Ross and stood on the table
proclaiming herself
to be 'Margarita Madeleina'.
She opens her eyes,
reaches for the sunglasses on the bedside table and puts
them on. She hasn't
even drawn the curtains.
Jude is making
coffee and the kitchen smells like pop tarts.
"Jesus!"
she says. "What happened to you? Wait - that's a stupid question
right?"
Mandy pours coffee
from the pot into a cup and sticks her finger in it to
test the
temperature. It's scalding. "Fuck!" she says.
"I just made
that."
"I know that
now."
"Aren't you
going to Washington today?"
"Fuck!"
she says again. She looks up at the clock above the fridge. She has
a flight in just
under two hours. "Fuck!"
Jude tries to be
helpful. "What are you taking?"
"Aspirin and
ear muffs," she says as she takes her coffee into the bathroom.
In the bathroom she
looks in the mirror. "Madeleine Hampton, former White
House PR
consultant, pleased to meet you." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
*
In the West Wing
you walk fast, think fast, act fast and for god's sake
don't slip while
you're doing it.
Slip, bam, crash!
Mandy's political career in a nutshell (and in the space
of a year too).
They say politics is all about 'crash and burn' but she
thought they were
referring to politicians and not operatives. She didn't
think they were
referring to her.
And besides, she
crashes, she burns, but when does she fade?
She powers down the
corridor behind Toby's assistant whose name she has
forgotten. Cute,
red hair, Jersey girl but not the Springsteen kind. The
assistant is
similarly walking fast and has about two inches of height on
Mandy. Mandy
maintains a safe distance of two feet behind.
Which is fine,
because in spite of knowing exactly where Toby's office is,
she considers it
presumptuous to walk around the West Wing like she belongs
there.
She passes Donna in
the hall. "Hey Mandy," Donna calls out. Just like Donna
to be all nice and
friendly -which she is, essentially, but Mandy always
suspected her of
being Josh-possessive.
They're all
Josh-possessive. It's a mania.
In Toby's office
there's a little scene of them. A chorus line of misfits -
just like in the
musical. She's expecting someone to start singing "What I
did for love."
Toby, Josh, Sam, Leo,
and a blonde woman. They are looking over each other's
shoulders at
whatever Toby has on his desk.
"Toby?"
the assistant calls from the door. Toby looks up. "Mandy's here."
He nods and she
goes in.
Leo looks up.
"Hi Mandy," he says. Leo doesn't give a damn that she's there
so she figures
whatever they're looking at has nothing to do with her. "I
want a report in my
office by the end of the day," he says before walking
out. "Good to
see you again," he says to her and she knows it's really not.
Toby shuts the door
behind Leo. "Have a seat," he tells her.
"Do you need
me?" Sam says. He never could stay too long in her company. She
suspects she
frightens him.
"Yes,"
Toby and Josh say in unison.
Sam leans back
against the desk. The blonde sits on the couch. She
recognises the
blonde as Ainsley Hayes, the Republican political commentator
who took Sam apart
on Capital Beat. She saw it - it was the highlight of her
week.
"So how are
you?" Toby says.
"Great,"
she beams. She crashed her car last Thursday (she has to learn to
stop driving angry)
and she's still freelancing for Gibson, but hey, she's
just peachy and
damned if she'll tell them differently.
"I suppose you
know why you're here?"
"I'm about to
be subpoenaed?"
"That's about
the gist of it, yes."
"And you guys
aren't going to try and influence what I say, are you?"
"Don't be
ridiculous," Josh says. She irritates Josh. She's always irritated
Josh. But this time
he's right, it is ridiculous, but it's worth getting out
of the way.
"So why is the
lawyer here?" She inclines her head towards Ainsley.
"We're all
lawyers here," Toby says.
"I'm
not." Neither is CJ. She used to think they had that in common.
"I'm here as
the White House Counsel," Ainsley says. "If you have questions,
I'm here to answer
them. However, I urge you to seek your own legal counsel
before the
hearing."
"Right,"
she says. She wonders if there are any lawyers out there who take
payments in flesh.
"We think it's
imperative that you know we want you to tell the truth and to
answer as honestly
and accurately as you can. You are not to be persuaded by
any loyalties you
may hold to the President or the staff." It's the party
line. Toby is
probably going to recite those lines many times before the
proceedings are
over - a formality so that aide's and campaign staff can go
out to the press
and say the Bartlett administration advised them to tell
the truth.
"Okay,"
she says. She sees them all exchange looks. Something's up.
"And there's
something else," Toby says. Well isn't there always? "While
telling the truth
it may be that you - ah - and you're under no obligation
to do this..."
"Do
what?" They all look uncomfortable. Except for Ainsley who is watching
Mandy with cool
calculation. Mandy resists an urge to poke a tongue at her.
"They want a
'heads up'," Ainsley says.
"Excuse
me?"
"Mandy if you
saw something during the campaign that you swept under a rug -
if you have
something to say during the inquest that indicts the President
or Leo or
Abbey..." Toby makes a 'and so on' gesture.
She wants to laugh.
No one ever told her anything - didn't they see to that?
"You've got to
be kidding me..."
"Think
hard," Ainsley says. "It might not be obvious. You may have acted on
an impulse. You saw
something, you thought, 'I'll just pretend it never
happened...'"
She saw things all
the time. She saw CJ with her shoes in her hand, coming
out of Toby's room
at three o'clock in the morning, she saw Donna and Bonnie
in an alley outside
a bar in Chicago smoking a joint with some locals, she
saw Leo's wife
storm into the campaign HQ in Manchester and demand to know
if Margaret was
Leo's mistress, she saw CJ on the balcony of her hotel room
in LA, wearing a
thin bath robe and staring at the street below like she
missed the place.
Maybe a grand jury wouldn't be interested in any of that,
but it's a heck of
a story.
She shrugs. She was
never in the loop and the one time she was, it was for
the wrong side.
"I'd tell you if I did," she says, and she means it, even if
they don't believe
her.
Toby looks at Josh
and Josh looks at Sam. Sam shrugs. "I'm good," he says.
"Okay,"
Toby says. "Thank you." He opens the door again.
"It was nice
meeting you," Ainsley says, and she shakes Mandy's hand as she
stands up.
At that point, CJ
bursts into the room. "You have got to be shitting me!"
She says, and she
waves a piece of paper in the air.
All heads turn to
face her and she is suddenly aware of the crowd in Toby's
room. "Oh -
hello Mandy," she says. She nods at Ainsley, "Ainsley."
"Can it
wait?" Toby deadpans.
"It can
wait," she says and she turns around and disappears again.
Mandy watches her
go. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was CJ Cregg.
When she turns her
attention back to Ainsley Hayes she notices that she is
watching CJ Cregg's
retreating form. Her cheeks have darkened, Mandy wonders
what it means.
"It was good
of you to come," Tobys says as he motions the assistant over.
"I was in the
neighbourhood," she says.
*
She's in the
neighbour hood of about $5000 in debt. She needs job security.
She calls an old
friend. "Hey Mark, want to go to a Republican fundraiser?"
"Are you
kidding me?" Mark sells over-priced art. A Republican fundraiser is
a gold mine with
legs. "But why Republican?"
"I need Gibson
to think I'm indispensable."
"Are
you?"
"Not by a long
shot."
"Well I'm
driving. You drive like a mad woman."
She is a madwoman,
but the capital makes her this way. She's had more car
crashes in DC than
in the rest of the states combined.
"Whatever,"
she says.
*
Mark's girlfriend's
name is Mika and she's an artist who once painted a
piece called
"Death of Democracy". It featured a DC landscape with
leper-like figures
in the foreground. She is less affected by the
appropriation of
her boyfriend than she is by not being invited to accompany
them. She loans
Mandy a dress.
"You owe
me."
"Next
time." If there ever is a next time. Her political career is sinking
and this is a last
ditch for the lifeboats.
The dress reminds
her of something she wore to her sister's wedding. No
plunging neckline
and a respectable, zipper back. It's light green - almost
pastel. Mika
probably wore it with gumboots.
There's the usual
paparazzi outside the event. Someone takes her photo.
She's not worried:
it will end up as a thumbnail on some paper's floor.
"I thought
they didn't allow your kind at these events," Mark says.
"What kind is
that?"
"Democrats."
Ha. That and every
other 'kind' she is. "I take work where I can get it."
"And you're
good at it. But when your heart is in it, you're great."
He's right of
course. She's not having any fun lately - hasn't really had
fun since the White
House. Since the campaign.
Cigarettes, late
night arguments, Josh's head in her lap, devising strategy
with his eyes
closed, CJ's lips against her in a hotel room...
And that certainly
never happened again.
She hates it when
her friends are right about her. She feels like taking her
ball and going
home. "Go sell someone a crappy painting," she says.
"I'll get you
a drink," he says. And he goes in search of a waiter.
She tries not to
stand too close to the wall. She needs to make contacts,
she needs to put
faces to the names and vice versa... She needs a drink.
She searches the
crowd and spots Mark making wild hand gestures to someone
whose face she
can't see. Trust Mark to take her literally.
She spots a waiter
with a tray of drinks and follows him through the crowd.
And then a glass of
champagne appears in the air in front of her.
"I take it you
were after one of these?"
The champagne is
attached to a hand belonging to White House counsel Ainsley
Hayes. So she is a
Republican...
Mandy takes the
glass. "Thank you."
"I must say
I'm surprised to see you here." Ainsley takes a sip of her
champagne.
"And I'm also surprised to see you in pastel green, you strike me
more as a
'red' - or 'purple'."
"This isn't my
dress." Ainsley talks fast. Faster than she did in Toby's
office. Mandy
blames it on the champagne.
"That doesn't
surprise me." Ainsley is wearing a shimmering blue navy.
Black, until it
catches the light. "They tell me you're freelancing for
Gibson?"
"They?"
"I have my
sources."
"Of
course." Not that she thinks she's uninteresting but no one in the
Republican party
gives a damn about who's working for Gibson - so it was
probably Josh or
Toby who told her. No doubt they found it amusing.
"You know, you
look very normal."
"Excuse
me?"
"I expected
you to look - taller. Possibly with longer hair..."
"You've been
giving this some thought, I see."
"People talk
about you. You're like the one that slipped through the cracks
- the 'fallen
angel' of the West Wing. And of course, you wrote that little
piece for Russell
which was a great resource for those of us on the other
side of political
commentary. When I lacked inspiration, and I'm not saying
that was often, I
would pull it out of a drawer and pick a criticism - any
criticism."
Ainsley quaffs her champagne - really quaffs it. The glass is
almost empty.
"And they think I'm the enemy."
"Was 'fallen
angle' the exact term used?"
"No, I made
that up."
"Well it's no
surprise. Want some advice? Don't screw any of them."
Ainsley blushes,
drinks the last of her champagne, and looks around for a
waiter. "Would
you like another drink?"
"I'm good."
Ainsley makes eye
contact with a waiter and waves her over. She takes two
glasses from the
tray. "You might change your mind," she says.
There are
Republicans in the White House. There's a blonde, drunk Republican
in front of her who
works in the White House and she doesn't. It's unfair.
She should be angry
but she isn't. Most of the time she feels empty. Maybe
she's just a void -
nothing there now.
And she drives like
a madwoman. Mark says so. She spies Mark on the other
side of the room,
still gesticulating wildly and looking like he's having a
good time. She
wonders if she can expect a commission.
Ainsley's eyes are
glassy and unfocused. Blonde, Republican Ainsley who
works for the
Bartlet administration is drunk and wearing a dress that looks
sexy and
conservative at the same time. Mandy contemplates asking her for
wardrobe advice.
But instead she
says, "want to go outside?"
Ainsley narrows her
eyes. "Why?"
"Because I'm
conducting a covert operation for the Democrats. I lure
Republicans outside
and force them denounce the party to the press corps."
"Oh - I
thought you might be trying to seduce me." Ainsley spins on her
heels and heads for
the doors.
Mandy reels. She
should be so lucky...
*
Ainsley leans
against the railing on the balcony. The night is still and the
music travels
outside onto the street and beyond.
"Why did you
leave?"
"No one told
you?"
"Strangely,
no."
"It wasn't
very interesting."
"I'm sure it
was."
"I heard that
when you met the President you were singing 'Blame it on the
Bossa Nova'."
She wishes she'd seen that.
"I'm a very
good lawyer - did anyone tell you that?"
Mandy smiles.
"I knew that already."
"So why did
you leave?"
Why did she leave?
Because she made a mistake, because she made everyone
angry, because she
was right, because she was good at what she did and no
one seemed to
remember that, because CJ...
They wanted her to
quit. They expected her to quit. Everytime she spoke she
felt that someone
was on the verge of saying, "are you still here?" - and
she wasn't really.
CJ looked right
through her, didn't hear her when she spoke and it shouldn't
have mattered more
than anything else, but it did because when she wasn't
thinking about that
kiss she was admiring the hell out of the woman, turning
her into the hero
she so badly needed.
"It was
unbearable. After the..."
"The
thing?"
"Yeah."
"Did CJ chew
you out?"
"Yeah."
Ainsley looks away.
Mandy thinks she understands, sympathises even. Mandy
finds herself
wondering about Ainsley, who she really is, and then she
remembers Ainsley
in Toby's office watching CJ's retreating form. A look of
admiration, a look
of respect, a look that was familiar.
"How do you
get along with CJ?"
"Fine."
Quick answer. Too quick.
"Because it's
not uncommon for some of the younger girls to - you know -
have a little hero
worship going on with CJ."
She smiles
nervously. "I can imagine."
Mandy looks her in
the eye. "Can you?"
"Whatever
you've heard, it's not true."
And it's get better
and better. She feels devious. Ainsley's drunk and she
expects there's a
story to be told. "You'd be surprised at what I heard."
"Mandy - I'm
drunk. I won't deny that, but if you think you're going to get
dirt on CJ, or me
for that matter, then I can tell you it's not going to
happen."
Damn. She changes
her approach. "Ainsley listen - I'm not the Press, I'm not
the Republican
Thought Police, I don't have anyone to tell your secrets to.
And I bet you don't
talk about your secrets with anyone do you? I'm betting
you need someone to
spill to, someone outside the action. I could be that
person? Trust me,
Ainsley, there is no one in Washington who is listened to
less than me."
Except maybe Gibson. "Now let me guess - you've got a little
crush on CJ
right"
Ainsley looks at
her with narrowed eyes. "I think you underestimate the
situation."
"What?"
Ainsley looks
contemplative. And then she shrugs. "We made out."
"No way!"
"Yes
way."
"You're
gay?"
"Not
precisely..."
"I don't
believe it - Ainsley the token Republican is gay!"
"I am not
gay!"
"Are you
sure?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, in
physical terms maybe - but you've been thinking about it for years
haven't you?"
"No."
"Oh come on,
Ainsley. I know that look! I've seen it the mirror!" She shakes
her head. It's
priceless. Truly priceless. "You know, I used to think you
were my
replacement. You were playing my part - you know, the part of the
person who doesn't
fit. But I was just keeping the spot warm for you. They
never had the real
thing until you came along."
"I have no
idea what you're talking about."
"You're the
outsider, and you know what really kicks me in the knees -
you're good at
it!"
"As a
confidante, you're doing a lousy job." Ainsley turns to walk away.
Mandy grabs her
arm. "Wait!" Ainsley looks at the spot where Mandy has her
arm, and then she
looks up and meets her eyes. Mandy doesn't let go. "I'm
sorry - I really
did want to help, Ainsley." She says it as sincerely as she
can - and maybe
it's true. Whatever the reason, she doesn't want Ainsley to
leave.
Ainsley hovers,
tense. And then she relaxes. "You like her - CJ I mean."
"A
little."
"She didn't
like you?"
She was willing to
bet that CJ never thought twice about her until she
pinned her against
the wall in their hotel. After that CJ did her best to
ignore her.
Mandy was out of
there anyway, long gone before the dust settled. It was the
perfect exit.
Except, of course,
she came back. In the halls of the White House, CJ kept
her wary distance
but when their meetings couldn't be avoided she was
pleasant and
professional.
Mandy had hoped for
a sign, a message, something to say that she'd had an
impact on CJ
Cregg's life. And maybe this was it? It was a little obscure,
but surely it meant
something.
"I think she
wanted to. Maybe she didn't know how."
They are silent for
a moment. "I like you," Ainsley ventures.
"You're
drunk."
"True. I like
you anyway."
"Are you sure
you're not gay?"
"I said 'I
like you', I don't see how that..."
Mandy silences her
by pressing her mouth against Ainsley's. Ainsley stumbles
backward against
the wall and Mandy follows her, one hand on Ainsley's waist
and the other
snaking down her arm.
It doesn't last
long. Ainsley pushes her away. "What are you doing? Have you
any idea where we
are?" She looks around to see if anyone is watching.
"There could
be photographers out here!"
"Yeah?"
Mandy looks around. "I hope they get my best side."
"This is
serious!"
"Ainsley - the
place is deserted!" It really is. None of the guests have
ventured this far
into the shadows of the building and no one would - unless
they had similar
activity in mind.
Mandy lets go of
Ainsley's arm and steps back.
"Come home
with me," Ainsley says, suddenly.
"What?"
"I think you
heard."
"Can you say
it again?"
"Come home
with me."
It's the best offer
she's had all year. It's the best offer she's likely to
get all next year.
She'd be a fool not to take it.
Ainsley lifts a
hand to trail her fingers along the neckline of Mandy's
dress. Her fingers
do a light dance along the hem. Her touch has an
innocence to it.
"I
can't."
"Excuse
me?"
God, she is going
to be sorry in the morning. "You know, just once, I'd like
to do the right
thing by someone, and guess what Ainsley - I pick you."
"I can't say I
applaud your timing."
She turns to walk
away. "I'll give you my number - you can call me next time
you're in New York.
We'll have dinner."
Ainlsley brushes
her hair back over her shoulders. She smooths a palm over
the top of her
head, grooming herself. "I can do better than that."
"You
can?"
"I can get you
a job. I'll be in touch"
Mandy smiles. They
all say that. "Thanks," she says and she walks back
inside.
It doesn't take
long for her to find Mark. He hasn't moved. She taps him on
the shoulder.
"Hey," he says, spinning around. "Where have you been?" He
shakes hands with
his small audience and they move away.
"Let's
leave."
"Now? We just
got here!"
"We've been
here over an hour."
"That's barely
long enough to get drunk. Aren't you having fun? I thought I
saw you go outside
with a cute blonde?"
She scowls.
"These things are highly overrated. Let's go."
Mark shrugs.
"It's your deal."
It's her deal, her
mess, her life and her prerogative. She's glad Mark is so
understanding when
she's a stick in the mud.
"I need my
jeans. This dress is a nightmare." They go outside and Mark hands
his ticket to the
valet.
This wasn't what
she expected, but since when does anything go according to
plan?
*
The wake up call
gets her out of bed with enough time to shower and check
her email before
catching her flight home.
She finds she is
once again staring in the mirror contemplating the night
before. She has
bags under her eyes and her chin has spots that weren't
there the day
before. Mark and Mika continued the celebratory tone of the
evening into the
small hours and once again she's got a hangover and a plane
to catch. She
considers that she's turning into a situation comedy character
- the single woman
who gets drunk too often and has loose morals only it
looks like fun on
television.
Her laptop springs
to life and she checks her inbox. She's surprised to find
a message from
Ainsley Hayes waiting for her.
The message
contains the phone number of congressional candidate Miriam
Williams.
"She's not
your side of politics," Ainsley writes. "But you'll like her a
lot more than
Gibson and she's already got a following Gibson can only dream
about. With your
help she's a shoo-in."
A smile spreads
slowly across her face. She always did have better luck with
women.
*
Her flight is
delayed. She heads for the airport lounge and takes a seat at
the bar. She
contemplates a glass of wine or, more sensibly a coffee. She
checks the clock
above the bar. One. It's PM. Not too early for a drink.
What the hell, she
thinks and orders a margarita.
A woman in a navy
pants-suit sits down next to her, throwing her shoulder
bag onto the bar
and rummaging in it until she produces cigarettes, lighter
and a wallet.
Mandy watches her
light up. The woman is wearing a bronze coloured lipstick
- copper maybe. She
has dark brown hair tied back in a ponytail.
The cigarette
catches light and the woman takes a long drag. Mandy tells
herself she doesn't
want a cigarette. She reminds herself she is a
non-smoker. She's
been a non-smoker for five years.
"Want
one?" The woman waves the pack in Mandy's direction.
"Yeah,
thanks." Mandy takes one and immediately the woman in the navy suit
leans over to light
it for her.
"What have you
got there?" She nods at Mandy's drink.
"A
margarita."
She looks at Mandy
and then back at the drink. She takes another drag of her
cigarette and waves
at the bartender. "I'll have one of those," she says.
She looks back at
Mandy. "What's your name?"
"Madeleine."
Madeleine Hampton, former White House PR consultant and
prospective PR
consultant for Doctor Miriam Williams. Sometimes known as
Margarita
Madeleina, but that's a story you won't here from too many people.
Which is a shame.
That girl knew how to have fun.
And blonde
Republicans aside, she never seems to have fun lately.
She holds her hand
out across the bar. "Madeleine Hampton. And you are...?"
Fin
Acknowledgements:
For Teanna's pink undies, of course. And for Suki who
asked for a sequel
to my Mandy/ CJ aeons ago and this is a sequel so...
well, I'm just
happy that she's reading<g>.