Introduction

Author's Note: I need to have some fun with these characters. My latest story, Family (The Sequel to Surprises) has become quite dramatic and serious. I'm not in a dramatic and serious mood right now. Summer's here, and along with the warm weather, the winter doldrums are beginning to lift.

I was thinking that Tony and Angela must have had embarrassing moments living together, beyond the bathtub incident. A man and a woman sharing a house platonically is not a marriage. The inherent intimacy and comfort-level associated with marriage is missing for our dear Tony and Angela. I mean, are they even allowed to burp in the house? How do they navigate uncomfortable situations? He's a man and she's a woman—they are roomies who started out as strangers and boss/employee. Very discomfiting. How do their children handle it when they're forced to share a bathroom? What about Mona's sexual behavior, taking place above the garage? Surely the little players in this play must have had more than their average share of humiliating and horrible experiences. What were they, and what happened afterwards?

Curious? Me too. Now, shall I come up with one such moment, and take a wee break from Family? Just a quick one-shot to entertain myself (and you) tonight. Maybe I'll come up with something new tomorrow. I'm open to suggestions, so please PM me if you have ideas for embarrassing family/couple moments, things you've wondered about. One per season?

Awkward Moment One, Bubble Bath Aftermath: (Season One)

Tony and Samantha had been living at the Bower house for a full month and were settling in quite comfortably. After the initial shock of leaving Brooklyn and starting a brand new life in Connecticut, the pair had landed in paradise. Samantha loved her new school; instead of a fenced in concrete surface, she now had grassy playground with trees. Never had a sixth grader been so happy to ditch the tough New York City school metal detectors. The eleven-year old was determined to do her best not to screw this up. And she valiantly hoped that her Dad wouldn't mess it up either. Sometimes it made her nervous because Mrs. Bower was kinda uptight. She didn't want her Dad to accidentally offend. Good thing the kid didn't know about the bathtub incident one week ago. She would have been packing her suitcases, and calling Mrs. Rossini to come get her in the fish truck.

As for Tony, he was trying his damned best too. He couldn't have found a better job had he gone looking. He'd almost dismissed Mona and her crazy idea that he work as a housekeeper. A housekeeper? He still felt weird about his job title, especially when it concerned his Brooklyn pals and all the shit they were talking about him. Philly and PeeWee were saying that he'd gone soft—he was a gigolo—he was a maid in an apron … yeah, he'd show them a maid in an apron.

No matter what, Tony knew he had made the right decision, both for his daughter's well-being and for himself. He could finally spend time with Samantha, and send her to a great school, while living in this amazing house among the manicured lawns. Besides, little eight-year old Jonathan needed him too. The poor kid was rapidly veering toward wimphood, geekdom, and dorkworld. Tony had arrived just in time to prevent this catastrophe. And his mom was pretty terrific too.

Actually, Angela intimidated him quite a bit. He'd never known such a successful and intelligent woman. And not bad looking either, he smirked to himself, remembering how she had looked stepping out of that bath. It had been an entire week since the embarrassing incident but Tony couldn't get the intrusive image of 'naked Angela' out of his mind's eye. She was a woman he could never, ever have, and well the grass is greener on the other side. Several times a day, he found himself replaying the memory, dwelling on the curve of her hip, the perkiness of her breasts, her never ending legs and what was between them. He'd allow himself the indulgence for small moments at a time before guilt took over and slapped him upside the head, reminding him to dust, vacuum and cook. "She's your boss … she's your boss … she's your boss …," guilt chanted over and over again in his head. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Micelli," he chided himself. Tony the healthy, young male and Tony the employee were warring inside of his head, each with compelling points to make. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy," said horny, young male Tony. It wasn't easy for a thirty-two year old Italian hunk to sublimate his sexual desire while sharing a house with an attractive young woman. Success and money aside, she was just a girl, after all. No, not girl, woman. All woman. Guilt slugged him again and his thoughts changed to 'Dust, vacuum, cook, clean, distract!' That was the name of the game, distract.

Angela had no idea that her bathtub exit had so perturbed and aroused her new employee and almost-friend. Sure, his intrusion had completely freaked her out! She'd never been so humiliated in her entire life, and that included the time she had fallen down the stairs sans her prom dress.

But, she didn't want to appear uptight or prudish, so she'd let the bathtub incident slide. It had been an accident after all. Besides, Tony and his lovely little girl were such a wonderful addition to her empty house and life. Jonathan appeared to worship the ground Tony and Sam walked on. He hung onto every word Tony said and imitated him as much as possible. It was cute, and her son really did need a strong, male influence. Tony was nothing if not strong, and … male. Jonathan and Samantha had also hit it off, especially after their escape to Brooklyn. Her son was happy again, and he was behaving now, obeying Tony. She wished he'd obey her more, but she'd take what she could get. Tony was a wonderful father and Michael was an ass, so she'd made a more than equitable trade-up for Jonathan. She'd just sent the divorce papers to Michael's employer, the Geography Documentary Institute he worked for. And if she had her way, that divorce would be final by early 1985. Her life was in order again, and she had two wonderful new people to share it with.

Humming as she made her way into the house, Angela was unaware that Tony was having typical male-related internal struggles. Had she known that he was both tormented and bewitched by the memory of her nude body, Angela Bower would have ducked tail and gone running to her Mother. She would have hidden out in the bathroom and never come out again. She would have needed extra Martinis, butter brittle ice-cream and worn a big tent-like Mu-Mu. Happily oblivious, she entered her living room through the front door just in time to overhear Tony muttering to himself, "Oh man, I gotta stop thinking about those legs and tits." The revelatory words had simply spilled out of his mouth as Angela entered the house. Both were shocked to see the other. Tony went beet red and Angela felt her knees go weak.

"Excuuuuse me?" Angela whispered in horror.

Tony had to think fast. Brooklyn had taught him to think on his feet, so he called upon his powers of the rough neighbourhood, with desperation.

As casually as he could and with as much confidence as he could muster, he set down his feather duster. "Just talkin' to myself. Was thinkin' that I gotta stop thinking, and actually get to the store to buy some eggs and taters." Tony silently begged her to believe him.

"Eggs and taters?" she asked in disbelief.

"Uh, yeah, for potato latkes," he threw in for good measure. Tony had no idea how to prepare this Jewish staple, but he figured that Angela wouldn't know the difference if he simply fried mashed potatoes into eggs.

"Latkes?" Angela wondered if she'd heard wrong. He couldn't have said 'legs and tits' … no, no, no, that wouldn't make any sense. But Tony speaking aloud his grocery list would certainly be in keeping with his job, she reasoned.

He stared at her, willing her to believe him. She stared back, hoping he was telling the truth. For a split second, their lives hung in the balance. If he screwed this up, it might be the evening train back to Brooklyn for him and Sam.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then," she told him. "I'd love to try your, er, potato latkes." Angela exhaled in relief, wondering why her legs were still shaking as she made her way up the stairs to the relative safety of her bedroom.

Tony sat on the couch and chuckled to himself. "Yeah, I'd like to sample your eggs and taters someday."

Crisis averted.