Ch 9 – First Date (3)
Tony felt weak with relief as he stood at the sink, washing his hands. He looked at himself in the mirror, not without a certain pride. He had finally told Angela that he loved her.
It was the least, no – the only thing he could do at this point. Hopefully, his confession would carry them through the next couple of weeks. Thanksgiving and finals were coming up, and then Christmas – he was in over his head as it was. Every night since their return from St. Louis, he had been tortured by fantasies of Angela, of being with her in every way imaginable. He wanted her so badly he could hardly sleep anymore.
Tony remembered telling Mona, a couple of years ago, after Thanksgiving at Mrs. R's, that there were girls you fooled around with and girls you married. Well, lying awake night after night, he had come to the conclusion that Angela was the rare girl he wanted to fool around with and marry, and that the two were not at odds with each other. He knew that because he had felt like this once before, and only once – with Marie. They were together before their wedding night, and he loved her even more afterwards.
Of course, with him and Marie, he had never had to worry about their stations in life. They were raised on the same street, they went to the same schools, they knew the same people. Nobody batted and eye when they became an item. When they were out and about together, walking arm in arm through the neighborhood, everybody approved. Look at these good Italian kids. How sweet they are. So nice that they found each other! Tony Micelli, promising ballplayer, and Marie Milano, his beautiful young bride.
What would the people in their lives think, and what would they say, when they saw him and Angela together? Angela Bower, advertising wunderkind, and Tony Micelli, gigolo housekeeper. How would he feel about that? And would Angela still want to be with him when people started talking behind their backs?
Tony needed to find a way for him and Angela to move forward that posed as little risk as possible to their family and that didn't leave him coming off as some kind of gold digger, a social climber who couldn't make it on his own.
This morning, he had given his guidance counselor at Ridgemont College a call and set up an appointment for January. It was early still, but he felt that declaring a major might set him on some sort of track, give him something to aim for, and something they could tell people when they asked.
He took a deep breath. Yes. Once the new year was here, he would see more clearly where their future was concerned.
For now, he would focus on the present. On Angela, who was waiting for him in the bar, whom he would now take to a nice Italian restaurant over in Bridgeport, where nobody knew them. And who he would then go home with and say good night to at the top of the stairs, like cursed lovers in some old-world fairytale.
ooooooooo
When he came out of the bathroom, Tony found Angela leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway that led to the bar.
"I was afraid you might have fallen in," she said with a smile.
"Ah, no." He wiped his hands on his pants. "I just – you know. I needed to regroup for a minute."
"I know what you mean," she said, and her eyes flitted away from his for a moment.
This was strange new territory for both them, he reminded himself, with things out in the open now. They chuckled awkwardly, regarding one another.
"The other reason why I'm waylaying you in here is that I had an idea," Angela said.
"Oh?"
"I thought it might help make us more comfortable if we, you know …?" Her gaze dropped to his lips. "Because I realized that we didn't."
"Right, right," he said slowly, catching on.
After the hug that followed their words of love, they had settled back into their respective chairs, too perplexed and acutely aware of their audience of five in the almost empty bar to take things any further. Tony had no recollection of what they talked about as they both finished their drinks. Then he had excused himself to use the restroom before the drive to Bridgeport for dinner. And here they were now.
"If you ask me, it would only be appropriate," Angela mused, shyly meeting his gaze.
"That's true. Very appropriate," he agreed, beginning to feel pleasantly lightheaded with anticipation.
"Well, if we both think so ..." She took a step forward, as did he, and they softly collided.
With their foreheads resting against each other, they just breathed for a couple of seconds. Tony inhaled Angela's sweet scent and reveled in feeling her close to him once again, hip to hip, chest to chest.
Then he brought his hand up to cup her cheek and sought out her mouth with his. She sighed at their first, gentle encounter. I love her, a voice said in Tony's head, and she loves me back. Soon, closed lips brushing slowly against each other gave way to playful open-mouthed kisses that tasted of grenadine and beer.
"God, I want to do this all the time," Tony said after a while, stroking her cheek with his fingertips.
Then he ran his hand down to her shoulder and from there moved on to trace the outline of her collar. Her dress was unusually low-cut, and he appreciated it entirely.
"No objection," she smiled against his mouth and leaned into his hand on her chest.
"But maybe not here." Tony cleared his throat as he became more aware of their surroundings again. "Let me at least get some food into you first," he said with a wink and a peck on her lips.
"No objection to that, either," she said. "I'm starving."
ooooooooo
"Thank you very much." Tony was helping Angela into her coat and nodded at the waiter. "Everything was perfect."
"Thank you, Sir," the waiter replied. "We hope to see you again soon."
"You will," Angela chimed in. "It was lovely."
The little restaurant, which Tony had read about in the local paper, had not disappointed. The food had been excellent, just like the company, of course.
Neither of them seemed to have it in them to discuss the fundamental questions surrounding their relationship tonight, not after their earlier confessions. Instead, they talked about everything and nothing, basking in the warm afterglow of what they had revealed to each other. Not for the first time, but for the first time while both of them were, well – conscious.
Tony could have spent the rest of his life sitting across from Angela, exchanging knowing smiles and gazing deeply into each other's eyes over water and wine, antipasti and the main course, dessert and coffee.
But they had to come home at a decent hour in order to keep up appearances. Mona and the kids would never buy them returning in the wee hours of the morning, claiming to have had a terrible time – for half the night.
Tony shrugged into his jacket and opened the door for Angela.
"Arrivederci!" the waiter said and waved at them.
"Arrivederci," Tony replied before following Angela outside.
When they sat in the car, he was about to stick the key in the ignition, but then hesitated. "I kind of wish we didn't have to go home," he heard himself say.
Angela looked at him after she had finished buckling her seatbelt. "What?"
"I don't want to go home," he repeated with what sounded like a mixture between a whine and a laugh. This was what sleep deprivation did to him, all of a sudden he felt silly and sad and irrational. "I've been thinking about you all week, and I think I'm going a little crazy," he admitted.
In the half-darkness of the car, he could see a faint blush creeping into Angela's cheeks.
"Tony, you do realize that we're in control of this, don't you?" she said gently as she reached for his hand across the middle console. "We're adults. If we want to stay out late … we can do that. We don't owe anyone any explanations."
Her fingers were stroking his knuckles now, and Tony wanted nothing more than to grab her and pull her into his lap and never let her go again.
"I know. Believe me, I know," he said.
"But whatever you want to do is fine with me."
"I know I'm the one who said he wanted to keep things quiet, Angela. And I still want that. No, wait. I don't want it. But I feel like that's how we have to do it for everything to turn out okay. So we – so I – can still handle it. You know?" He felt like a broken record for telling her this again, what he wanted for them versus what he could actually stomach.
"I know," she said and interlaced her fingers with his. "And it's okay, Tony. I want to be with you, and as long as we're moving forward, which I think we are, if tonight is any indication … As long as we're moving forward, I'm happy to take things slow. And to keep a couple of secrets. Even though it's hard, and I don't feel great lying to the family. We'll tell them the truth when we're good and ready."
Tony raised their joined hands to his mouth and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. "You're the best, Angela. Honestly, what did I do to deserve you?"
"I could ask you the same question," she whispered.
Without another word, they leaned in for a kiss that was at once tender and desperate. Eventually, Angela pulled back. Licking her lips (unconsciously? on purpose?), she looked Tony straight in the eyes.
"Maybe we can find some kind of compromise for tonight?" she suggested. "I'd say we don't have to go home right away. We could make one more stop. It's only ten-thirty. As long as we're home before midnight, it should be fine."
"What kind of stop?" Tony asked, suddenly out of breath.
She tugged on his hand and placed it above her left knee. "I recall the view from Inspiration Point is very nice," she said, and there was that lilt in her voice again, the unmistakable suggestion of something.
Tony swallowed. Inspiration Point. Did she mean? No, that wouldn't be right. Not in the car, like teenagers. But who said they couldn't park up there for a couple of minutes and enjoy … the view. If they did, maybe he would be able to get some sleep tonight.
"Are you sure?"
"I suggested it, didn't I?" Angela moved his hand a little further up her leg.
With his right hand, Tony squeezed her thigh, while his left was already fumbling for the car keys.
ooooooooo
"When was the last time you made out in the backseat of a car?" Angela asked him, looking slightly disheveled and incredibly beautiful.
"Uh, I don't know. 1971?" It was a wild guess, he had no idea.
"Care to do it again?" she asked, cocking her head to indicate the backseat of the Jag. "Might be more comfortable."
It really was a bit tricky, kissing and touching her the way he wanted to with the steering wheel and the pedals and the console constantly in the way.
"Oh, yeah. And safer, too. I mean, I wouldn't want to step on anything and roll us into the lake," he joked.
"No, that would be unfortunate."
They both snickered at the idea of the two of them, in the Jaguar, in the lake, as they broke apart, got out of the car and back in to re-join each other in the backseat.
There wasn't even that much more room back here, but there were fewer obstacles. It didn't come close to the luxury of being with her in a jacuzzi or in a double bed, and yet the cramped quarters had certain … advantages.
Tony didn't think that he had ever seen anything hotter than Angela, with flushed cheeks and breathing heavily, hiking up the narrow skirt of her dress so she could bring her knees down on either side of his hips to straddle him in only her pantyhose and underwear.
Soon, they were a blissful tangle of arms and legs, elbows and knees, and other, softer and more pliable body parts. Tony began to have a difficult time telling where she ended and he began. But he figured that they would be fine, as long as one of them could catch a breath every now and then, providing oxygen for them both.
The only way he could tell that time was passing was by his increasing need for her. It was becoming uncomfortable, having Angela sit in his lap like this, and he carefully maneuvered them into a half-lying position, with his hips coming to rest between her legs.
Of course he knew that tonight wasn't the night – and the Jaguar wasn't the place. But damn, did he enjoy everything about this, and damn, did he regret that he would have to put and end to it soon, or else.
"Jesus, Angela, you have no idea how much I want you right now," he growled into her neck in between kisses.
"Oh, I have a pretty good idea," she said, gently bucking her hips underneath him.
He responded with an involuntary thrust. It was high time to stop. They both laughed, still a little incredulous at what was transpiring between them right here, right now, and more than a little tortured because it couldn't go any further.
"Well, it's hard to hide," Tony said sheepishly, only realizing what he had said when it was already too late.
"I wouldn't want you to," she said in a low voice and grabbed hold of his buttocks, drawing him even closer to her.
"Ughn," came his reaction, an unintelligible, guttural expression of arousal and mild despair at their predicament. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to center himself. "We really have to get a grip on things here."
"I think I already do."
"Oh, I can tell," he croaked.
"But you're right," Angela said softly.
She let go of him and rand one of her hands up Tony's back while the other came to rest on the back of his neck. "We should probably head back home now and save this for another day. Or night. Sometime soon?" Her final two words were tinged with so much hope, Tony's heart jumped.
"Sometime soon. Definitely soon." He leaned down and they briefly lost themselves in another kiss.
ooooooooo
"Good to go?" Tony asked, turning around in front of Angela.
They were standing in the headlights of the car, making sure there were no visible traces of their little intermezzo on either of them. No new hickeys, no untucked shirttails, no missed buttons, just in case anybody was still awake when they got in.
"Perfect," she said. "What about me?"
Angela twirled, and the light caught in the glittery threads that were woven into her dress.
"Beautiful," Tony said. "Always beautiful."
It was later than either of them had intended, almost midnight already, but coming back down to earth had taken a while. Well, Tony didn't care right now, it was what it was. They would raise their voices when they came home, to make sure the kids heard them from their rooms.
They rehearsed their story all the way home. The comedy club. The grumpy waitress. The sticky table right in front of the stage. The obnoxious comedian and his provocations. Angela's effective, if technically imperfect knockout punch.
When they drove up to the house, the light in the living room was on.
"See, I told you they would wait up for us," Angela said. "In what world would my mother miss out on this?"
Tony nodded. He killed the engine and took a deep breath. "Showtime, huh?"
"Showtime," Angela agreed, giving him a small smile. "Break a leg."
"Break a leg," he repeated.
Slowly, they made their way from the car to the front door, Tony a couple of steps ahead of Angela because people who had had a horrible night would certainly not come up the walkway holding hands, or even walking next to each other.
When they were halfway there, the living room went dark suddenly. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see the curtain in the window moving. God love the kids and God love Mona, but they were really less than subtle.
After a quick look back at Angela, Tony unlocked the door. It sprang open, and he stepped inside, bellowing, "Well, we're home!"
Angela walked straight past him, screeching, "Go to hell!"
"Lead the way!" he responded and followed her further into the room.
"What happened!?" Sam and Jonathan asked in unison from their spot by the window, aghast.
Angela whipped around like a fury. "This was the worst date I've ever been on!" Then she continued in a calmer, more dignified voice: "Ask your father if you want to know more. I have to go ice my hand."
With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Tony to face the rest of the family alone. Mona switched the living room lights back on, and Tony felt heat beginning to rise to his cheeks.
"Dad! What did you do to Angela?" Sam asked, arms akimbo, her tone accusatory.
For a second, Tony thought he was not talking to his daughter, but to Marie. Sam's body language when she was irritated was that of her mother to a T. If he hadn't been so nervous, it would have warmed his heart.
"Yeah!" Jonathan echoed Sam's question. "What did you do to Mom?"
Mona just stood there, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Uh," Tony stammered. "I guess, uh, I picked the wrong spot."
"Where did you go?" Sam asked, sounding equally worried and amused.
"To a comedy club," Tony said. "But she didn't have a lot of fun. And neither did I. The comedian was pretty mean."
"Oh, Dad," Sam said, shaking her head.
"You ask my daughter out on a date, and then you take her to a comedy club?" Tony could tell that Mona was barely holding it together at this point. And yup, after another second or two of trying, she gave up and dissolved into a laughing fit.
"Really, Tony?" she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.
"Well, yeah," he said, glad that they seemed to believe him and doing his best to play dumb.
"I thought it'd be fun. You know?"
"Tony, Tony," Jonathan said, walking over to him and reaching out to pat him on the back. "Women don't want to have fun on dates. They want romance."
"Since when do you know anything about women, fun, or romance?" Sam knocked Jonathan about the head playfully.
"Ay-oh, Sam!" Tony said. "No hitting."
Ignoring the reprimand, Sam continued, "What did the comedian say, Dad?"
"Nothing I want to repeat in here. And anyway, it doesn't matter. Angela punched his lights out."
"She did WHAT?" Jonathan screeched. "Mom hit him?"
"He deserved it, too," Tony said with maximum conviction.
"Oh Dad, you're in so much trouble." Samantha offered him another sad shake of her head.
"Tell me something I don't know, Samantha," Tony said in his best petulant voice.
Mona raised one of her eyebrows, considering Tony for a moment. It looked as if she wanted to say something, but then thought better of it.
"I'll go check on Angela. You two kids take care of this poor man. He needs all the help he can get."
Mona regarded Sam and Jonathan each with encouraging smiles that gave Tony pause. But he didn't have time to dwell on it because Jonathan was on his case again.
"Yeah, Tony. Why don't you sit down." Jonathan patted the space next to him on the couch. "Tell me everything. Maybe I can help you figure out where you went wrong."
"I can't listen to this," Sam said, turning on her heel and starting up the stairs. "The blind leading the blind. Talk about depressing. I'm going to bed."
Tony had to work hard to suppress a chuckle. If they only knew. But of course he couldn't tell them, and so he surrendered to his fate.
"Let's talk about this from man to man, Tony. Did you at least try my move?"