A Friend in Deed Chapter 8:
Josh's POV
Why on earth would anyone be calling me on the phone, when I am
clearly dying? Someone please make it stop! Thank God. It stopped.
Wait, why did it stop? Is someone else here? Am I being robbed? That
would explain the pain throughout my entire body. I came home from
work, was ambushed and beaten, and left for dead on my bed as the
thieves (there would have to be more than one to get a jump on me)
ransack my apartment and answer my telephone. No, that doesn't make
sense, even in my hung-over state. That's it! I'm hung-over.
Why am I hung-over? Donna always stops me before I have too much to
drink, especially on a work night. I'm going to have to speak to her
about this…as soon as I have the strength to move and the room stops
spinning. This really is a dereliction of her duty to me.
"Josh, that was Donna. She wants me to remind you have a meeting on
the hill at 7:30 with Wilkinson and that your Advil got moved to the
kitchen cupboard above your coffeemaker."
"Tell her to come in here. I want a word with that woman." I say
without raising my head from the pillow or opening my eyes.
"Not here, pal, on the phone. Donna was on the phone." Ben told me.
Wait. What is Ben doing in my apartment? Didn't he move to
Philadelphia?
"Probably afraid to face me after she let me drink too much last
night." I mumble.
"Donna wasn't with us last night, Lyman."
"Oh, that explains it then." I pull another pillow over my
head. "Donna never lets me drink too much."
"And she apparently know you pretty well, too, since she told me to
take the pillow from over your head and push you into the bathroom to
take a shower. She made me promise you wouldn't be late, Lyman. Get
moving!"
I unenthusiastically start the shower and hesitantly look at myself
in the mirror. Holy God, I look like I was in a fight!
"Abrahms? Did we get into a fight of some kind last night?"
"No, why?"
"I look like I have a black eye."
"Oh, that. You fell and hit your head on the coffee table when we got
home last night."
"I am going to hear about this forever." I grumble again as I come
into the kitchen for coffee after my shower. "You must promise me
that if anyone asks, I got this shiner defending the virtue of a
young Mother of 3 being assaulted at a bus stop on the way home."
"Right."
"It could happen! Just remember the story." I insist.
"Would you like to write it down for me? That way I won't mess it up
when I'm at the White House for my interview later."
"What interview at the White House?" He never told me where his
interview was before this. "You never told me that before now!"
"I didn't want you to run interference for me. I'm interviewing with
Lionel Tribbey at 10 for an associate counsel position…you always
tell me how much better it is to use your skills to serve the
President, right?"
"I'm not sure I'll be back from the Hill by then."
"That's okay. If you're not back by then I'll visit with Donna and
wait for you. The three of us could do lunch to celebrate my job new
job."
"Which one?" I scoff.
"We'll decide at lunch." He smiles like he doesn't know I'm trying to
avoid Donna.
"No, you two go ahead. I think she'd enjoy that…I know she'd enjoy
that." I feel sick again, but not because of overindulging in
alcohol. "Maybe you should make it dinner; something special."
"Let's play it by ear. Head out before you're late and Donna blames
me."
"Yeah, good luck with Tribbey. And whatever you do, don't get him
started on anything about cricket." I leave him with those cryptic
words and head to the Hill to do battle with Congress. Suddenly, I'm
in the mood for a fight.
Chapter 9