Evicted

Joey had no idea how terrible he was at sucking up to people until Treeger slammed the door shut in his face.

It was humiliating.

He was barely able to get out a few seconds worth of contrite pleas before it was all over and Treeger banished him from his sight. Just as he had done earlier this afternoon when Joey came down to demand he apologize to Rachel for making her cry.

Yet, even with the door now shut tight, and knowing any further attempt to smooth things over would be in vain, Joey continued to beseech the burly maintenance man from the hallway. Begging from the other side of the door and hoping to change his mind, have him reverse course, and maybe let the girls keep their apartment. But Treeger was too headstrong and cantankerous to listen to reason or to wilt under Joey's exaggerated doe-like, sympathy inducing eyes. Which had always been his go-to move when trying to win someone over or get them to accept an apology.

Joey was shell-shocked as he trudged back up the stairs with his tail between his legs. This had never happened to him before. His ability to charm people had never failed. Although, to be fair, he never had to charm a man before. Much less a man like Treeger. Joey's particular brand of charisma worked mainly on members of the opposite sex. In his experience, there were not many women who could resist him as long as he was motivated to put on the full court press and unleash all of his flirting prowess. Men though were always hit or miss for Joey. If they could not talk about the Knicks, food, or Die Hard, then there was very little chance they would break bread and come to an understanding. Which could be a liability when you are trying to keep an acting job that is hanging by a thread and the producer isn't a woman.

He let out a long, defeated sigh. He had no idea how he was going to break it to Monica and Rachel that they were going to lose their apartment. And how he could do it in a way that would ensure they would not be angry at him.

At first, he blamed his hot-blooded, Italian temper for coming on too strong when he initially confronted Treeger. He marched right up to his door, puffed out his chest and acted like a protective older brother, which he thought would intimidate the enigmatic handyman. But instead, Joey's forceful tone and commanding words only spurred Treeger's outrage and contempt. Proving he was a man not to be daunted by the likes of Joey Tribbiani.

Now, if this was a Miss Treeger, then perhaps the conversation would have gone in a very different direction. Although, if she looked anything like Treeger, it might have been hard for Joey to take one for the team. At the very least she would have to shave her mustache.

Unfortunately, Treeger was no woman. And there would be no reconciliation, no apology, no turnabout. Instead, Treeger threw a bunch of words and numbers in his face and said things that made no sense. Code violations, illegal subletting, squatter's rights. Joey had no idea what any of that stuff was. All he knew was that now, he would have to put his charm into overdrive if he was going to tell the girls what happened and live to see another day.

Joey hated giving bad news. He got enough of his own at auditions to know there was no such thing as being let down easy. No matter the part he would try out for, be it any age, race or gender; if Joey got told he was passed over for another actor, it would hit him like a ton of bricks. Hammering him into the ground. Despite all that, he still thought about trying to soften the blow. If not for their sake, then at least for his. Yet, as he searched his brain for some tactic to ensure Monica and Rachel would not get too upset with him upon finding out they were going to be homeless, he was drawing a blank.

With those two, it was always difficult for him to figure out how exactly to deal with them. Usually with women, he would just sleep with them to make them feel better, or at least it made him feel better. But so far, Monica and Rachel have not shown any interest in taking advantage of the gifts he had to offer in that department. And he thought it was safe to assume that probably trying to whip up a few special Joey coupons would only make them angrier. So, with sex off the table, he really did not know what to give to the girls in a situation like this.

A few sandwiches? A bottle of wine? Some nice flowers? Pizza? Chicken with the skin still on it? Chocolates? Free tickets to his next play? The answer eluded him.

He then thought about getting Ross or Chandler to break the news to the girls. Let Monica and Rachel get mad at those two instead of him. They were the least likeable members of the group anyway. Everyone already wanted to hit Chandler for some inexplicable reason, so what did it matter if he added a little extra motivation? And as far as Ross was concerned, Joey figured that after last weekend at the beach, and his latest break-up with Rachel, that getting the opportunity to clock him in the face might make her feel better about being homeless.

But Joey couldn't do that to those guys. They were like brothers to him, and throwing them to the wolves did not seem like a very brotherly thing to do. No, he was going to have to face the music and tell the girls that Treeger was indeed going to tell the landlord that they were renting the apartment illegally and have them kicked out. And that it was all his fault.

He got to their door and stopped for a moment, caught up in the sentimentality that this may be one of the very last times he got to walk into this apartment. That was, unless some hot chick moved in after they left that he could sleep with.

"Oh man, I hope some hot chicks move in."

Suddenly, before Joey lifted his hand to knock, the door swung open. He could feel the angry energy from inside the apartment seep out into the hallway and envelope him like heavy, humid, rage-filled air. A sticky summer storm of heat and lightning. It was practically suffocating.

"So what did he say?"

Joey started at Monica, who stood in front of Rachel. Both women glaring at him. Joey rubbed at the back of his neck and looked down, trying to avoid making eye contact.

"Well, he didn't say much. You know that Treeger. Man of few words. I think that's what I like about him the most. He's the strong, silent type. Okay, well. I'll see you later."

Joey turned to leave and Monica grabbed his arm, pivoting him back to face them. She then jabbed a scolding finger at him in order to get his train of thought back on track. "Joey! What did he say?"

Joey started to stammer as he nervously looked around. "I like to think that it isn't so much about what he said, but about what he didn't say. You know. The hidden messages in those silences between words."

Monica's eyebrows screwed up in confusion. "What?"

"I dunno, I heard it in acting class one day."

Monica, losing patience, fumed at him and Joey could swear her nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge as the vein on her forehead threatened to whip him into submission.

"Joey! What! Did! He! Say!"

"Well, what he did not say was that, uh, you could, um….." Joey started to look past Monica and peered into her apartment. "Chandler or Ross aren't here by any chance, are they?"

Rachel leaned forward. "Joey, just tell us. Are we kicked out or not? We promise we won't be mad."

Monica stared incredulously at Rachel. "Speak for yourself Green!"

Joey stepped back, a look of sheer intimidation on his face. "Technically, no. Treeger isn't going to kick you out."

"Whew." Both women smiled at each other and gestured wiping sweat from their brow. They then shared a celebratory hug.

Joey winced and took a step back from the doorway. "Because he's going to have the landlord do it instead."

"What!"

Chandler slowly walked up the last flight of stairs in an attempt to delay his arrival home. A look of frustration and foreboding washed over his face as he reconciled himself to once again enter that hot box of tension his apartment had become ever since Monica and Rachel had moved in. An apartment that more resembled a storage unit now that all their stuff was there. Usually, he looked forward to a few quiet moments at the end of the day. Take time to unwind from a long day at work in his favorite chair. Change out of his suit, heat up some leftover Chinese food and kick his feet up in front of the television for a few hours. Although, to be fair to the girls, that had already been taken from him thanks to Joey's poor judgment and a couple of opportunistic thieves.

It seemed though that his roommate was not satisfied with only ruining one apartment on this floor, and decided to spread his own personal brand of chaos and destruction to Monica and Rachel's place as well. Now, with almost every inch of his apartment covered in knick-knacks, bric-a-brac, boxes and clothes, he could barely see the walls on the other side of the room. It was as if Monica and Rachel had somehow bought every ceramic, decorative ornament and picture frame in the tri-state area, and now, that deluge of worthless trinkets had crashed down upon him.

Yet, the clutter wasn't even the worst of it. Not by a long shot. It was the sleeping arrangements.

At first, Joey suggested the girls could stay in his room, but much to their chagrin, he meant in his bed, with him in it. Then, Monica had offered to convert the living room into some sort of makeshift bedroom, but Rachel had no desire to spend the next few weeks while they looked for a new apartment sleeping on the pullout couch. So, stupidly, Chandler offered up his own room for the girls. Before he knew what was happening, he was standing in the livingroom with his pillow and blanket wondering where exactly he was going to sleep.

He thought about bunking with Joey, but his roommate's tendency to sleep naked and his incessant snoring had chased that ridiculous idea right out of his head. Instead, that first night, he forced Joey to take the couch, since all of this was his fault anyway. Chandler went to sleep that night and assumed that everything was now settled, but the next morning he soon discovered he was woefully mistaken when he heard the screams from Monica and Rachel reverberate through the apartment as Joey rolled over while they were eating breakfast. Fully exposing himself, in all his naked glory, to them.

So now, the livingroom, with all the boxes and shoes and clothes and clutter and vases and little dishes with potpourri was his new temporary bedroom.

"These two girls really need to find a place to live. Fast."

As he approached the door, he heard the familiar chorus of shouts that had become the soundtrack to his life ever since Monica and Rachel moved in. It seemed, because Joey was the one who got them kicked out of their apartment, he was perpetually skating on wafer thin ice. There was no transgression too small that did not fail to elicit irritated admonishment from one of the girls. And usually, it was both of them giving him the business.

Chandler braced himself as he slowly entered, and peeked about the apartment, almost hoping he had somehow become invisible.

The first voice he heard was Rachel, who sounded like she was in the bathroom.

"Joey! Stop taking the shower curtain off."

"That thing is a safety hazard!"

Monica rolled her eyes as she turned a screw tight on the doorknob. "Is that why you took the lock off too?"

"Well, what if there's some kind of naked emergency. Wouldn't you want me or Chandler to be able to get in here if you were having a naked emergency?"

Monica huffed and shook her head. "Just finish scrubbing the toilet."

Chandler winced and then slowly walked across the livingroom, hoping to remain unseen.

"Chandler!"

Monica's tone caused him to shudder as his shoulders ran up, almost covering his head like a turtle in its shell. The same tone she has had almost every day since the girls became his new, if short-term, roommates. That specific inflection in her voice that usually meant Monica had some new chore for him. It was the tone she used when she discovered they had never cleaned the microwave, or the oven, or the refrigerator, or the bathroom, or the ceiling, or the windows, or behind any furniture. Without fail, Monica had something new for him to do every night he came home from work. She was like some housekeeping gestapo, finding him wherever he would hide with a sponge or a bucket in her hand.

He turned towards the bathroom and forced out a smile.

"Yes?"

"I need you to scrub those shower curtain rings I have soaking in the sink."

Chandler turned to look at the sink, filled with soapy bubbles and raised a questioning eyebrow as he wondered who on earth would think to clean shower curtain rings. He then clasped his hands together and rubbed them as he tried to come up with some kind of excuse to get him out of another night of cleaning.

"Oh, I'd love to, but I have plans. Yep. Big plans."

Monica stood up and started to tap her foot with impatient skepticism. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. I have a, uh, work conference."

Monica looked at her watch and then back at him. "At seven? On a Friday night?"

Chandler tried to keep his face frozen for fear he would give away his ruse. "Yes. It's a very normal time for work conferences."

Rachel rolled her eyes and then returned to cleaning the grout in the shower. "Chandler, nobody believes that."

"What? Why?"

"Because you said the same thing last week."

Chandler squeezed his fist in defeat and scrunched up his face, angry at himself for losing track of his own lies. "Fine. I'll do it. But I am not going to like it."

"You don't have to; just be glad you aren't Joey."

"Why?" Chandler looked over and grimaced as he saw Joey on his knees cleaning the toilet.

Joey held up the toilet brush with a look of prideful discovery on his face. "Did you know they make a brush to clean the toilet? And that this is not a back scratcher for when you're in the shower?"

Chandler shuddered at the image his friend had put in his head and walked into the kitchen.

"Joe, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Joey nodded, discarded the brush, and stepped out of the bathroom. Once he walked around the counter and into the kitchen, Chandler spoke low as he leaned towards Joey, keeping his eyes on Monica and Rachel to ensure they did not overhear him.

"Hey. Just how long is this going to go on? We can't keep living like this."

"I know. The other day, Rachel had all her thongs right there on top of her laundry basket." Joey shook his head, flashing Chandler a knowing look.

"That's not what I am talking about Joe. I mean the clutter, the crowding, the chores."

"Yeah. That stuff too." Joey looked off and then back at Chandler. "Ooo, maybe you should say something."

"What? Why?"

"Well, you're usually getting on everyone's nerves anyway, and besides, I'm scared of Monica."

"Well. You made this mess. You have to clean it up!"

Joey angrily pointed in the direction of the bathroom. "Oh, I'm cleaning up all right."

Chandler gestured with his hands for a truce and then spied the newspaper on the counter. "That's it. We should start looking through the classifieds for them. You know, circle a few listings, give them a push."

"Yeah. That's a good idea." He excitedly patted Chandler on the back. "Now. Do you think we can talk them into leaving us all the furniture? I am starting to like having a table to eat on again."

"Joey!"

Joey turned quick on his heels and scurried away from the bathroom. "What? You said come in."

Rachel poked her head out of the door, hiding her wet naked body from view. "I said don't come in. Don't! As in do not!"

Joey nodded slowly. "Oh. That makes more sense seeing how you were naked and all. Why didn't you put on a towel?"

"Well, maybe I would have had a towel if you didn't use all the big ones and take them with you out of the bathroom. Now all I have is this!" Rachel reached her arm out and waved a small face towel angrily in the air.

Monica got up from her seat at the kitchen table and stormed off into Chandler's old room. "That's it."

Chandler's head lifted from his own breakfast as he watched her return with a clothes line and several sheets that she started to clip together. The other three stared at each other dumbfounded as they watch Monica construct a makeshift wall down the middle of the apartment. Splitting it in two with old sheets hung from the clothes line she attached to the wall.

"All right! Do you know what this is?"

Joey looked puzzled as he gestured with his finger, slowly following the line from one end to the other. His brow furrowed and he looked off to the side, thoroughly confused.

Chandler tilted his head and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Why do you have a clothes line?"

"To dry clothes!" Monica stared blankly at him, as if his question was absurd.

Monica then grabbed a towel and a robe from the bedroom and handed them to Rachel through the crack in the door. "Come on Rach."

Rachel stepped out and joined Joey in his befuddlement. Monica grabbed Joey and guided him to the other side of the room and then stood beside Rachel.

"All right. Now this side of the apartment is ours and that side is yours. We don't go on your side, you don't come to ours."

Joey pointed across the room as his face twisted up. "Wait! That's not right. You have the bathroom on your side."

Monica looked over her shoulder, and then looked back at Joey and Chandler with a smug, mocking expression as she sharply folded her arms. "That's right. That's our bathroom now. Get used to showers at the Y on 10th because that's your new bathroom."

Joey stepped back. A look of wounded indignation upon his face. He then excitedly pointed towards the kitchen. "Well, all right. Fine. You want to play it like that. The kitchen is on our side. So, get used to this." Joey walked over, opened the refrigerator, grabbed a container of Chinese food and quickly opened it; scarfing down the contents in record time.

Chandler twisted in his seat as he gesticulated with his hands. "Hey! That was mine!"

Joey looked down apologetically. "Sorry dude." He then turned towards Monica and Rachel as he rediscovered his ire. "My point stands though." He gestured around him like a domineering despot. "All of this now ours. No girls allowed!"

Chandler slumped down and rolled his eyes. "Great. Now I'm one of the Little Rascals. What else you gonna do Joe? Get us cootie shots next?"

Chandler stepped out of the bathroom in his boxer shorts with a toothbrush in his mouth, quietly admonishing himself for forgetting to bring his clothes with him so he could change after his shower. As he reached to grab his pajamas from the back of the couch, he stopped himself and stepped back as he saw Monica bent over the front of it as she was pulling it open and converting it to a bed.

"What are you doing out here?"

Monica huffed and shook her head. "Have you ever actually tried sleeping with Rachel?"

Chandler smirked and looked over at the bedroom door. "Was that an option?"

Monica looked up and mocked laughter at his joke. "Har-dee-har-har. No, I mean in the same bed. She is a very selfish sleeper. And she rolls around a lot. I end up on the floor most nights."

Chandler winced. "My floor? That can't be good."

Monica nodded in agreement. "So I'm going to be out here on the couch. Which technically isn't a violation because it is on our side of the apartment."

Chandler looked around the apartment. "Is that still going on?"

"I don't know."

Chandler settled down on the end of the couch and spoke softly. "You know, Joey really does feel terrible about this."

"Well he should. My life plan never included getting evicted."

"I know. And it's terrible. But you did. Now you have to find some other place to go. The four of us will end up killing each other. Or, you'll kill all three of us."

Monica slumped down at the end of the couch-bed and shook her head angrily. "I'm sure there are a ton of landlords looking to rent apartments to an unemployed, broke mess. I should find a place in no time!"

Chandler reached out and put his hand on her arm, rubbing her reassuringly. "Hey, that's not true."

"Yes it is!"

"Okay, maybe it is, but…you know…you'll get through this."

"How? I already borrowed money from Ross. I can't afford a new security deposit. What am I going to do?"

Chandler looked around the apartment and slowly nodded his head, finally accepting the situation he was in. "You know you can stay here as long as you want, right?"

Monica's only response was a subdued nod.

"And look, you just have to get out there and go on some interviews. You'll get a job in no time." Chandler shot up and grabbed the classified section from the kitchen counter and then returned to the couch next to Monica. "I bet there are a bunch of jobs here."

Monica flipped the paper around and then leaned in, scrutinizing some ads that were already circled in pen. "Hey, what's this? Are these apartments for rent?"

Chandler flinched and raised his hands up defensively.

"Are you two trying to get rid of us?"

"No."

"Chandler!"

"Okay. Maybe we were, but that was before I found out how pathetic you were and now, I'm sympathetic." Chandler mocked cheering with his hands. "Yay."

Monica fought back a smile and shook her head as she shot back sarcastically. "Thanks. I feel so much better."

Chandler reached across and started to turn the pages of the paper as Monica leaned into him. He stopped at the help wanted ads and started to scan through them. "Okay, we just need to find something that involves cooking."

Monica shot a pair of mocking eyes at him before returning her attention to the paper they were sharing. "That would be preferable."

Monica took a moment and looked up at him as he earnestly started to read from the help wanted section. Despite the crass way he expressed himself, she could tell Chandler was invested in helping her, and for a moment, she was able to forget how terrible life had been for her over the last few weeks. Quitting her job at the diner. Her break-up with Pete. Her bank account dwindling down to zero. Losing her apartment. It seemed like a hurricane of disaster had hammered away at her windows and doors and blew the roof off of her life. And while she maintained a strong façade, her resolve was hollow.

For the most part, she felt weary and alone. Rachel and Ross had been too busy trying to settle whatever scores they had left after breaking up for the second time. Phoebe was dealing with her birth mother. Chandler and Joey had been scrambling after they were robbed. Chandler even had a brief fling with Rachel's boss. It was as if everyone in the group simply had no time for her.

She wanted to take in all the warmth from this moment. Enjoy having someone dote on her for a change and put forth the kind of effort into her life as she had done for the others countless times before. She leaned into him some more, looking for comfort, but then froze as the scent of his clean, freshly showered body overcame her. It was a pleasing mix of his soap, deodorant and natural musk which combined to give off this perfect whiff of a man.

Suddenly, she became very aware that he was sitting there next to her, on a bed, wearing only a thin pair of boxer shorts.

She stiffened up as she started to recognize the familiar tingles that were charging across her body. The unconscious reaction she would have as she found herself getting too comfortable and too close to an attractive man. Her libido rising up as it began to convince her that she could use a good lay right about now.

She found it so strange that it did not feel weird to have this flash of heat and desire as she sat next to Chandler. Something about it felt right. Yet, there was still a part of her that tried to dismiss it as a fleeting moment of weakness. Something she could shrug off as an unfortunate result from her heightened state of emotion.

She was depressed. That is all it was. A sense of loneliness and melancholy that was making her react in an uncharacteristic way. She was misinterpreting her misery with being horny.

"Here's one. What's a…uh…Escuelerie?"

Monica stared at his mouth, suddenly her lips felt dry. And then, she remembered the last time she felt like this. After yet another low point in her life. Broke, terrible job, that unwavering sense of failure permeating every inch of her soul. That smug cashier at the video store. Her underpants sticking to her jacket. That was when it hit her. She was in her kitchen, giving Richard a lesson on how to make sauce. Everything felt exactly the same as it did right now. The tug of ripping the veneer of the mundane for animalistic lust.

"Am I saying that right? Esssss-cue-larry?"

"Huh?"

Monica had no idea what he was saying. Her eyes glazed over as she wondered what his stubble would feel like against her skin. She had no idea she could feel this way. Not about someone like Chandler. Last year, when she and Richard had their fling, she assumed that her spirits had been lifted because it was Richard. The one that got away. The love of her life. But now, finding those same urges bubbling up, she wondered if perhaps it was just the sex. That perhaps the cure to her particular brand of the blues was to have a week or so of non-stop, great sex.

"Oh wait. It says here that it's a dishwasher. Do you guys have fancy words for everything? What do you call someone who takes out the garbage? A Fler-de-da-flu-flu?"

As she watched him chuckle to himself, she imagined feeling the vibrations of his voice tingling the nerve endings of her body as they fused into one. Every word he spoke like a shot of electricity as he pressed his weight on top of her.

She admonished herself internally, and dismissed her desire as weakness. How could sex be the answer. Especially sex with Chandler. The same guy that barely a month ago she had told was not her type.

Her brain started to work overtime. She wondered if perhaps she should call Chip Matthews back, plug up her ears, and suffer through his arrested development for a nice quick romp. He was still good-looking.

"Hmm. Here's one for someone to make sauces. Is that a thing? One person makes all the sauce?"

"Maybe Tuesday."

Monica had no idea what she was saying. She did not want Chip Matthews. She did not want the cute guy from the flower shop. She did not want some random guy for random sex. Like with Richard last year, it had to be someone who cared for her. Someone she had a connection with.

She wanted to talk herself out of this, and end it now. Yell at him to put his clothes on and then run into the bathroom to take a long cold shower until he fell asleep and she could put this foolishness behind her.

Yet, all she could think about was his smell, his bare chest, his body, the bed, and suddenly her brain froze and tripped over a wild coincidence.

"…did he say making sauce?"

Just like the last time she felt this way. The catalyst that led to a week of passion. She could practically feel the tomatoes in her hands as the tactile sensations from a vivid memory imprinted itself on her brain. It was a bad idea then. It was a bad idea now.

"Tuesday? Are you all right?"

Chandler looked down for the first time and he was taken aback at the way Monica seemed to be staring at him. Mistaking her intense stare for scorn and wondering if he did something wrong.

"Mon?"

Before she knew what she was doing, her hand ran quickly up his chest. She took in every inch of how his flesh felt on her skin as she brought her hand to his cheek and forced him to tilt his head down. She raised herself up and crashed her lips into his. Running her hands around the back of his head and digging her fingers into his hair, grazing his scalp with her nails.

Chandler, caught up in the moment, was unable to resist her velvet lips, as he began to kiss back. It was an almost unconscious reflex. As if he no longer had control of his own body. He wrapped his arms around her as she hungrily pressed on, parting his lips with her tongue and moaning as their kiss deepened.

The newspaper fluttered to the floor, falling apart and spreading itself around by their feet. A puddle of black and white that engulfed their feet. Monica shifted her body weight, and brought herself up to his lap, pushing him over as they tumbled down onto the bed. The rustle of newspaper and the creaking of the bedsprings drowned out by their own heavy breathing.

They finally broke their kiss as Monica positioned herself on top of him. Straddling him as she took a moment to figure out what other part of his body she wanted to feel against her lips next.

Chandler, suddenly becoming aware of what was happening, snapped back to reality and attempted to cool things off.

"Wait a minute. We're making out….."

Monica shook him off and dismissed him with a breathless "no time for that." She straightened up and lifted her shirt quickly. Pulling it off and silencing him with another kiss. She did not want to think too much about what she was doing and she definitely did not want him to be the rational one and try to talk her out of it. All she knew, in this moment, as her body took over and her lust blotted every negative feeling she had been carrying around for these last few, long, terrible weeks, was that she no longer felt sad or alone or hopeless.

All of that was gone.

Now she was only hungry.

Hungry for sex.

And she was going to eat.