What Men Want - Chapter Two

by Monnie Geller (formerly known as Monica Bing or Monica Bing1)

A/N: I'm so glad you guys liked my beginning!  And I'm really sorry for taking so long with the update! And yeah, you all are very smart, and know just what my basis was.  It is from What Women Want, the Mel Gibson movie, but it DEFINITELY has some twists that I hope you'll like.  Many, many thanks for the reviews, and I hope there are more to come!  3 Monnie.

Oh, and I don't know if I mentioned this before, but this story is dedicated to my Cool Aunt Kim Who Always Has Gum, because she's awesome, and spent an hour long car drive helping me figure out exactly how the plot worked in this fic.  I LOVE YOU, KIMMY ANN SUE MARIE RENEE NICOLE!  You're my favorite moon!

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Monica was out of breath, when she reached her apartment building.  She had been watching out of the back window of the cab the entire ride home, and had the driver drop her off a block from home, so as to throw off the imaginary person she was convinced was following her.  How? How did this happen? She asked herself, partially fearing the answer.  She opened the door of her apartment, and saw movement on the sofa.  She grabbed the butcher knife, and held it in front of her.

"Get out!" she yelled, backing towards the wall, and opening the door, still amidst her nervous breakdown, and desperate to use any means to get as far away from men as she could.  If it was Chandler, she didn't want him reading her thoughts, or whatever it was that was happening to her.  But it wasn't Chandler's head that appeared from in front of the sofa, it was Rachel's.

"What? What's going on?!" Rachel's eyes darted around the room, looking for whatever it was that Monica was yelling at, "who's here?!"

"I - no one," Monica breathed, setting the knife down on the counter, and coming over to collapse on the sofa, next to Rachel, who had a book open, face down, on the arm of the couch.

"You scared the bejeezus out of me, Mon!"

"Sorry."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing.  Just a - " she debated as to whether she was going to tell her or not, and decided against it.  Telling Rachel that Monica was a mind reader was like revealing the fact that people thought Rachel was a hermaphrodite in high school.  It just wasn't done.  " - a weird night, that's all."

"Okay, then," Rachel wasn't so sure, but she decided to drop the subject, "so, how was the date?" Rachel hoped that would brighten her spirits, or at least change the subject.

"I don't really wanna talk about it."

"That bad, huh?"

"No, it's just - I don't wanna talk about it.  Look, I just want to go to bed.  I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Alright.  Goodnight, Mon." Rachel gave her friend a strange look, before Monica disappeared into her bedroom.  She didn't even bother to put her jewelry in the bathroom.  She just laid it all down on her dresser, changed, and got into bed.  Lying awake, an hour later, she was still thinking about what had happened.  So...I could read his thoughts...but how? The answer never found her, but she was determined to figure it out.  Eh, something to leave for tomorrow, when I'm more active.  That thought helped her sleep, and she drifted off, wondering what was in store for her when morning came again.

--

There was a loud, insistent banging on her door.

"Monica! Come on!" Phoebe's voice was heard.

"Get up!" And then Rachel's.

"It's Wednesday!"

"Time for shopping!"

Monica groaned, and rolled out of bed, her hair strewn about on her head recklessly.  She didn't have very pleasant dreams the night before, and the sheets on the floor, and pillows on the other end of the bed were proof.  She groaned, and made her bed, before she even thought about fixing her hair, or responding to the two girls who were still knocking on her door, pleading with her to come out.  Once her bed was back to its flawless state, Monica called out to them.

"Would you two please stop that incessant noise? I'll be out in a minute!"

"But Mon!" Phoebe began.

"No 'buts'!"

"Monica!"

"Ah-ah!" She tried to ignore her.

"I just have one question!" She said, a little louder than before.  Monica opened her door to see a pleasant looking Phoebe on the other side of it.

"What?" Monica asked, irritably.

"What is 'incessant'?"

Monica promptly shut the door in her face, and continued getting dressed.

(A/N: And for those of you who are too lazy to get your dictionaries out, incessant is another word for never-ending. Just a bit of random trivia for you.)

--

The three girls, purses all slung over the same shoulder, walked arm-in-arm into Bloomingdales, a department store merely twenty minutes from home.  Upon entering, they each headed for a different section of the women's clothing.  Phoebe, who was looking for shirts in particular, held a loose fitting blouse up to her torso, and admired it in the mirror.  Rachel looked at the sizes of several skirts on a clearance rack, and Monica checked the prices of some satin lingerie she had found nearby.  Each of them was minding their own business, when a man approached Monica, looking over her shoulder at her selection, and smiling slyly.  Monica turned around to ask Rachel a question, when she ran smack into him, and stumbled backwards, nearly knocking over a rack of French underwear on display.

"Oops, sorry," she mumbled, holding the leopard-printed thong that she had in her hand behind her back.

"Quite alright, miss, uh - " He raised his eyebrows, curious as to what her name was.

"Monica."

"Mmm.  Miss Monica, I'm Alan.  Alan Hayfield.  I presume you have a last name?"

"Y-yes," she said, feeling slightly overpowered under his intense gaze.  He smiled pleasantly, and she smiled back, finally realizing how cute he was.  He wasn't a very muscular man, but he was attractive nonetheless.

"Ah, well, may I ask what it is?"

"Geller."

"Monica Geller?"

"Yes."

"Well, Miss Geller, it was a pleasure meeting you." He extended his hand, and she reached out to shake it, but ended up handing him the thong she held instead.  She blushed, and made an incoherent noise, before tossing it behind her, and on to a small container of similar underwear, and avoided his eyes again.  Over his shoulder, she saw Rachel and Phoebe clinging to each other, biting back laughter to a point that it looked painful.

"T-that was um, on the floor, and I was picking it up."

"Mm-hmm.  How much was it?"

"Eight ninety five - um, I mean - " Rachel had both of her hands over her mouth, stifling a giggle, and Phoebe looked as if she were about to cry, " - I didn't see the tag."

"Yes, well...you have excellent taste." He smiled, and she blushed again, glancing over his shoulder.  He turned around, and saw Phoebe and Rachel straighten themselves up, and pretend to be involved in something else.

"So Pheebs," Rachel said, loudly and quickly, holding up a repulsive-looking polka-dotted jacket, "how much do you think this is?"


"Well, the price tag says - "

"Is that so? Well, price tags can be misleading - let's go check it out, shall we?" She grabbed Phoebe's arm, and dragged her off to the side, and out of view.  Laughing, Alan turned around, and his eyes softened.

"Well, I've taken up enough of your time - " Monica said, beginning to leave, and Alan put his hand on her shoulder.

"Wait."

She turned around. "Hmm?"

"I'm so sorry for putting you through that.  Let me make it up to you?"

"How so?" Monica raised an eyebrow.

"By taking you to dinner."

Oh, boy... she thought.  "That depends."

"On what?"

"Where you'd take me." I'm not in the mood for a repeat of my last date.

"How does Mexican sound to you?"

"Sounds great."

"Awesome.  Is there any place I can reach you?"

"Yes, hold on." She dug into her purse, and found a small piece of paper, scribbled her phone number on it, and handed it to him, "that's my home number.  You can call me anytime after seven thirty tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it.  See you soon."

"Bye," Monica waved as he turned his head, and pocketed the paper, and disappearing around the corner.

"Go Mon, go Mon! Go! Go! Go Mon!" Phoebe and Rachel sang, dancing out of the dressing room and congratulating their friend on her victory.

"Man.  Two guys in three days.  What's that about?"

"I dunno...you've been looking pretty good lately, Mon," Phoebe commented, looking her up and down.  Rachel agreed.

"Oh yeah.  Knock 'em dead."

"I suppose.  So, what am I going to wear?" Monica asked.

"Where do you think we are? A button factory?" Rachel told her, as Phoebe picked up the underwear that Monica had discarded.

"Maybe I should get some of this stuff," she said, and Monica laughed, and snatched it from her.

--

"So..." Monica said, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had formed during dinner three nights later.

"So..." was all Alan replied with, picking at the food on his plate.

"So what do you do for a living?" she asked, hoping to hear a decent answer.

"I'm a scientist."

"A scientist? Well, what do you study?"

"Mostly just molecules; chemical bonds; you know, the basic stuff.  I've only been working in a lab for about three or four months, so, I don't have much work."

At least you're not a pig-headed sports fanatic, she thought, the vivid memories of her date rushing back to her at once.  Oh, no...please don't let my curse return again.  She thought about what she would do if it was still happening, and her thoughts were broken when he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Monica?"

She was snapped back to reality. "Yeah?"

"I've been trying to talk to you for the past five minutes.  Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She felt something slippery fall over her neck, and she glanced down to see her necklace falling into her shirt. She hastily pulled it up, realizing that she hadn't actually attached it when she put it on, but rather snagged it on the back of her shirt, and she tried to fasten it.  He leaned across the table.

"Here, let me," he said, reaching around her neck to close the clasp.  The familiar flicker of the lights appeared again, and she wondered how long coincidence was just coincidence. "So, Monica, what do you do for a living? I mean, apart from picking out such tasteful lingerie." He added, with a playful smile.

"I'm a chef."

"Oh? Well, what kinds of things do you cook?"

"Mostly cuisine-type recipes.  I'm actually the head chef at Alessandros, across town."

"Oh, really?"

She nodded.  "Have you ever been there?"

"No, but a couple friends of mine have.  And they died coincidentally three days later."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Huh?"

"But I'm sure the restaurant had nothing to do with it."

"With what?"

"Your friends' deaths."

"How did you know that they died?"

"You just told me!"

"No, I didn't!"

Dear God, it's back.  "Um, I must've heard about it, and made a quick assumption." She tried to shrug it off.

"Wow, you're good." I like telepathy in a woman.  It's...unusual.

"Thanks.  So..." she tried to steer the conversation from her lack of ability to keep her mouth closed, and she succeeded.

"Hey, here's a question!" he said.  Have you ever wanted to eat and then swim in a pool just to find out why people don't advise it? "Who were those girls you were with, the other day, when we met at the store?" Do M&M's make you laugh?

"They're a couple of my best friends.  One of them is my roommate."

"Oh, interesting." Have you ever replayed a movie in your head before? I've got loads of questions.  Were you a priest in another life? Just ask, man, ask!

"I suppose."

"Um..." Want to hear some random facts?  Ducks are really funny.  I can't stand cornrow braids, because they remind me too much of the vegetable. I also eat beans for fun.

The entire dinner carried on no differently.

--

Monica shuddered as Alan closed the door to the cab, and the driver opened the partition.

"Where to, ma'am?" he asked.

"Bedford street," she responded simply, and shivered again as he pulled away from the small Mexican restaurant.

"Bad date?"

"You have no idea."

He laughed.  "I'm Marcus, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Marcus." I really don't feel like being asked out right now, she thought.

He huffed audibly. "Okay, that's fine.  I was just making conversation."

"What?"

"Nothing." You didn't tell me your name.  I was only curious! He thought.

"Oh! I'm Monica."

Marcus smiled. "Nice to meet you, Monica.  Say, what was so terrible about that guy? He looked pretty decent to me."

"His personality wasn't the best."

"Aw, I hate guys like that."

"Me, too."

The rest drive home was quite silent,  When they arrived at Monica's apartment complex, she opened the door and stepped out, taking her wallet out of her purse.

"How much?" she asked.

"Thirty-five, ma'am." Marcus said.

Thirty-five?! Monica thought. You can buy a day's worth of groceries for that much!

"That was sort of the point of the fare, Monica." Marcus said.  She looked up.

"What?" she said, slowly.

"The thirty-five dollars.  It can buy a day's worth of groceries.  That was the point."

You can hear me? She thought again.

"Sure can." Marcus smiled.

Oh yeah? Well, I can hear you.

I know.

How?

It's a secret.  Monica handed him the money, and he reached across the passenger seat to take it from her.  "Nice necklace, by the way," he added, his sleeve falling back on his arm to reveal a silver chain adorned with charms, one of which was a beautiful silver color, and in the shape of a teardrop, identical to the one she wore around her own neck.  "You get that at a flea market?" She nodded.  "Bought it from that scary old bird, mentioning something about some 'hidden power'?"

Monica found her voice again.  "Yeah, why?"

Marcus smiled. "I think you solved the mystery."

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Whee! And my dramatic music begins....NOW! *dum-dum-dum* !  Please leave me a review, ESPECIALLY if you're going to continue reading.  Thanks a mill! Ciao, bebe.