Propinquity: Noun 1. nearness in place, proximity. 2. nearness of relation. 3. affinity of nature. 4. nearness in time.
Villa Montparnasse Room 212, 5:45am
Of course it was too good to last; he should have known. Mike woke for no particular reason to find himself alone in bed. A brief inspection revealed neither octopus nor armadillo. He sighed and rolled his eyes in the dimness. Here he was, finally trying to be worthy of more than a quick famous fuck, to maybe get a chance to indulge his newly discovered interest in treating a woman (okay, this woman) like something special… and damn, where did she go? Pam and Genie had already told him of Bonnie's casual immunity to the notion of romance in Paris. Okay, he'd never been all that great at that kind of thing himself, but at least he believed in it in the abstract. He couldn't write the stuff he did, even the "leaving and stay away" stuff, and not believe in it. Of course actually accomplishing it, romance that is, it required more effort than he'd ever been inclined to expend. Until now. And now… where was she, goddammit? For once in his life he had a fix on what was important to him, and just his luck Morris was a moving target.
He called out to the shadows, "I know you're here somewhere..."
"Over here," came her voice from the oversized armchair near the bay window. "Couldn't sleep. Didn't wanna wake you."
"Why not? I'm not the one with the world-class right hook." He reached for his jeans on the floor and pulled them on before going to the window and pulling the curtains aside.
"You're facing the wrong way," he observed. Behind her the sun was beginning to light the sky. The second floor didn't offer a spectacular view, but it was better than L.A. and the Paris rooftops in the area were pretty cool. "Get up for a minute." He pulled her out of the chair and turned it around to face the window. "That's better."
"Wait a minute, you can't just rearrange the furniture in a place like this," Bonnie protested.
"Take it easy, I'm not fixing to trash the room." Mike dropped into the chair and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "Groovy. Sunrise in Paris, baby. Check it out."
She squirmed a little. "C'mon, I got things to take care of…"
"When you were beating me senseless yesterday morning you told me I could do whatever I want today. Well I wanna do this for as long as I can get you to sit still. Least you could do is cooperate." She relaxed then, and settled back against him. "That's more like it." She was wearing one of the thick terry robes the hotel supplied; it made her feel soft and fluffy, like holding a big stuffed animal. He cuddled her closer, loving the feel of the robe, of her, against his skin. "Mmm, this is livin'."
She laughed a little at that. Sometimes he got these silly moods, laying on the romantic attitude a mile thick. "Last night, that was living…"
"Last night was business," he corrected. "This," he freed one hand to point at he coloring sky, then smoothed her hair back and turned her face toward his, "this is living. You'n'me, nice and quiet, out of reach of the PTB."
"It's all living, Nesmith. You can't break it up into little boxes to deal with one at a time. Like… I don't know how you can be one way here and now, and somebody entirely different out there."
"Are you the same way here as you are out there?"
She shook her head. "You know that's not what I mean."
"Baby…" he began, but didn't want to spoil his good mood. Why did she always have to try to talk sense to him when it really didn't matter? "Don't talk so much right now, okay? Just dig on the sunrise…" he kissed her neck, "and dig on us… leave the rest of it for later." He felt, rather than heard, her sigh as she turned a little to settle her head on his shoulder. "What's that for?"
"You just told me not to talk so much. So this is me not talking so much."
"You are one contrary wench, you know that? Go ahead, rap away." When she didn't say anything he bent his head to look her in the face. "Speak, Contrary Wench."
"I really like my job, y'know?"
"Auhh," he breathed in her ear, giving the lobe a light nibble. "I really like your job too."
"But I'm probably gonna be looking for a new one, after last night."
"For giving a champagne bath to Kirshner? Nah. From what I heard he deserved it. If I'd been there…"
"If you'd been there you'd just have had a handy excuse for what you wanna do anyway, so thanks but no thanks. Yeah, Bob did the re-dump thing for the press, but in the cold light of day it's gonna be different. He knows Kirshner is an asshole but he also knows he's had a lot to do with your success."
"His success, you mean. Don't be so uptight, will you? Here it is, the cold light of day, and you still got your job, and I still got mine, and so forth and et cetera. Thought I'd throw in some business talk, since you're in the mood." He was hoping for a smile, but it wasn't happening. Instead, she pulled free from him and shuffled over to sit on the bed.
"I don't know… he could turn on a dime in a couple of hours. And this," she gestured between them, around the room, "the press is gonna catch on sooner or later. That's gonna make things complicated."
Giving up on a casual cuddle, Mike got up and went to kneel on the bed in front of Bonnie. "What's goin' on here? It's like now that things might be going right, you're doing a shopping list of shit that can go wrong. I've never seen you like this."
She sighed and looked in his questioning eyes. "I guess I've never had something I can't stand the idea of losing. Not just you, or us, I mean all of it, it all goes together. I'm trying to figure out the stuff that can go wrong so I can head it off."
"This a little bit about Benny?" he asked. He thought for a minute she was going to cry, but she managed not to.
"No, because I never even thought of it, and then he was gone. You know how a junkie will do anything to feel that rush again? I think maybe I'll do anything not to feel the way I did when I lost him." She didn't say it bitterly, and took hold of his hand so he wouldn't misunderstand. "Jesus Nesmith, I came to L.A. to get distance and look what I got…"
"Propinquity."
"Huh? Sounds like a town in Kansas. What's 'propinquity'?"
"It's this." He reached his hands out to pull her against his chest, between his spread knees, and smiled when she wrapped closer around him (welcome back, my Octopus). He kissed her hair before continuing, "It's keeping close to what's important, paying attention to what's here now, 'making a space', remember? You know you want to, and you do it when you forget to worry. But then you remember, and you start counting and figuring and pulling away."
"You talk like a songwriter. Life isn't a song."
"Nope, but it can make 'em easy to write." He lifted her head from his shoulder. "You know how I get that stuff I write that you said sounds so real? I pay attention, and it just comes to me. That's why I don't write 'for' anybody, because it doesn't come from anybody particular. I pay attention, and something just comes to me the right way and I make it mine. Kinda like you, Morris… I paid attention, and you came to me the right way."
"I know I'm not the first one who has, I mean the right way, and you aren't either, for me."
"Nope. But maybe we'll be the last if we play our cards right. Either way, worrying and counting and backing away won't make it happen. So we might as well just let it happen like it happens, and try to get it right." He took her face in his hands. "I really want to get it right this time."
Bonnie leaned in and kissed him. "So far, so good." She slouched down so she was lying in his lap, idly stroking the dark hair that covered his forearms, and continuing to the backs of his hands, and back again.
"If I met you a long time ago," he mused, "I mighta made a lot less mistakes."
"I'm glad you didn't. I think maybe you'd have made 'em anyway, and you'd be here with somebody else now. Or with nobody you really want to know."
Mike scowled down at her. "You can kill a mood quicker 'n any woman I ever met."
"But I though you were a pragmatist, like me? I didn't know I fell in with a romantic."
"Time and place, missy, time and place, there is one for everything." He was smiling again. "Sun's up. You want coffee, or you want to lounge in bed with a romantic songwriter?"
"Depends." She sat up again. "What's 'propinquity'?"
"I told you," he sighed in mock exasperation, then caught her in his arms and threw them both full length on the bed, wrapping his arms and legs around her so she couldn't move. "This."
"Okay. In that case I'll go with plan B." She snuggled so close, pressing her face into his lean collarbone, that she swore she could hear his blood flowing in his veins. "Am I gonna get more 'propinquity' tonight?"
"Much as you can handle," he promised.
She was halfway asleep when the phone rang.
"Don't you dare," he warned her, tightening his grip.
"But it's gotta be important or nobody would be calling!" Bonnie wrestled free and went for the phone, leaving Mike to flop out spread-eagled and empty-armed with an extravagant sigh.
"Seduced and abandoned," he lamented, "Hand me my guitar, I think I feel a song coming on…"
Bonnie rolled an eye in his direction as she picked up the phone. "Bob. Well yeah, it is kinda early, but… what? Oh, right, last night. Look, I was really pissed off and had a little to drink, I didn't mean… huh? It isn't? You did? Wow I don't know what to say… no I don't assume you are the world's biggest asshole, Bob. I'm not surprised, just… well I thought you'd think I went too far. He's done some important things for the show, for the guys. No, of course not, I didn't think you liked what he said, just… sorry Bob. Thanks, I mean it. I'm glad you called, I've been kinda thinking about it myself." She could see Mike was nodding his head furiously, and circling his index finger next to his temple in the "crazy" sign. "Yeah, see ya later. Two pm for wrap up is fine, we have most everything taken care of already. Bye."
"So. He's tossing you out on the street with a pink slip and a tin cup full of pencils, right?"
"Okay, so you were right…" Bonnie muttered.
Mike sat bolt upright, extending his fist. "Excuse me, I didn't hear that clearly. Speak into the microphone."
"I said, you were RIGHT. Happy?"
"Almost." Now he beckoned with both hands.
"Oh yeah, where were we?" she asked and jumped onto the bed and into his arms, laughing as she rolled him under her.
"Propinquity. This here's just a sample... tonight'll be the real thing."