Past Tense Rising - 8
All notes and disclaimers are in the previous seven chapters.
**
"GINGER!" Toby shouted as he stormed into her view.
Within ten milliseconds, Ginger was up and backing away from
him. "Toby, before you do anything, calm down. I'm sorry I came in
late, I had an accident involving a microwave and a glass."
"Ginger, you could have called." Toby complained, taking a few steps
forward to her desk, intending to look for messages from the last
temp they had sent him.
Ginger quickly scooted to the wall, out of his reach.
"Ginger, for crying out loud, stop doing that." he said, checking the
memoes. He glanced up and looked at her. His eyes narrowed at the
patch on her eye. "What happened to your eye?"
"Something incredibly stupid." Ginger replied, her voice shaking. "I,
uh, put a glass of water in the microwave this morning and by the
time I got back to it, it exploded."
Toby stared at her for a long minute, taking in not only the patch on
her eye, but the bruise forming just below her other eye and the
scrapes on her hands.
"Try again." he said.
"It's the truth." she said. Just then, the phone rang. She crossed
the room and reached in front of him and picked it up. "Toby Ziegler.
Uh-huh. Yeah, I'm fine, Margaret. Uh-huh... I'll tell him. Yeah.
Okay. Okay. Okay. Bye." she hung up the telephone. "Leo wants you."
"We're not through with this." Toby said before leaving his office.
**
"So you were telling me yesterday that President Bartlet is related
to Former President Shepard's chief of staff?" Ainsley asked as she
put down her menu.
Sam looked at her above his own menu. It was only four-thirty, but
they had decided to take an early dinner, then go back to the White
House. "They're cousins, like I said."
"Do cousins usually look that much alike?" she asked, pouring him a
glass of wine.
"Not likely." Sam made his decision and closed the menu. "Their
fathers were brothers and their mothers were twin sisters, not a
widely known fact by the way."
"Sure." Ainsley said.
The waiter came along and they gave him their orders. After the
waiter had poured them coffee and left, Sam leaned forward across the
table. "So, what did you want to ask me about yesterday?"
He was met by a blank stare.
"Yesterday? In your office?" he elaborated. "Friend of a friend?"
"Oh, that." she sighed. "I'd forgotten about that."
"Ainsley, if one of your friends is in trouble--"
"Sam, it's not that cut and dry." Ainsley interrupted him. The honest
truth was, she hadn't been able to forget about it. She had finally
convinced herself to stop worrying about Ginger until she had gotten
a look at her when she came in. Not only were her hands a mess, but
she had a patch on her eye the size of a man's fist, easily. It was
obvious, at least to Ainsley, that Ginger had been beaten again. What
amazed her was that everyone else had bought her story about the
glass and the microwave, no questions asked.
"What's not cut and dry about it?" Sam asked. "Ainsley, I want to
help any way I can."
"I'm not sure there's anything any of us can do, Sam." Ainsley said
sadly. "First she starts dating this guy a few months ago, then she's
having little accidents. There are always perfectly logical
explanations for them, but how many times can you crash into the same
door or fall down a flight of steps without changing the way you walk
into a room or down those steps? Then today she comes in with an
eyepatch bigger than my fist--" she froze when she realized she was
speaking out loud.
"Ainsley?" Sam said. "Us? Did you say there was nothing any of US
could do?"
"Sam--" Ainsley began, knowing that he was about to figure it out.
"Eyepatch?" Sam looked down at his hands. "Ginger came in today with
an eyepatch. Ainsley? Are you talking about Ginger?"
Ainsley buried her face in her hands. "Sam, look--"
"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" he snapped angrily.
"Sam, she denies it. And I've never seen this boyfriend of hers
actually hit her. I usually show up after the fact. She's been hiding
it well." Ainsley took a sip of water. "The sad truth is, I don't
have any proof and unless Ginger starts telling me the truth, there's
nothing any of us can do."
"The hell there isn't." Sam pushed his chair back. "We're going back
to the West Wing. I'm talking to Ginger and if that doesn't work, I'm
talking to Leo."
"Sam!" Ainsley grabbed his arm. "Sam, please, it won't work! Don't do
anything yet. She might get fed up and leave him."
Sam sat back down. "I'm giving it two weeks, Ainsley. If this keeps
up, I'm going to Leo with your allegations."
**
"Leo?"
"Yes, Mr. President?"
"I'm sending out a memo, but I want you to know about it first."
"Oh, boy. Okay, lay it on me."
"Zoey wants the staff to participate in a talent show two days before
the state dinner."
"Shit."
TBC
Past Tense Rising - 9
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