The One With The Digital Fairytale
Chapter Seven
By: Jana~
*****
--"We need to speed things up," Chandler said into the phone, waiting for the inevitable concerned reply.
"What? Why? What's happened?"
"Nothing's happened, Dad," Chandler sighed; his dad didn't disappoint. "Everything is still status quo. It's just," he hesitated, "It's Monica."
"I told you dating her would distract you!" Charles snapped angrily.
"Look, I'm not getting into this with you again, ok?" Chandler barked back. "I really care about her and I'm not giving her up because of this!"
"I'm not asking you to, but couldn't you have waited until after to start dating her?"
"She might not've been available had I waited," Chandler explained, exasperated with his dad. "It wasn't a risk I was willing to take."
"But taking the risk to be with her," Charles challenged him, "You're perfectly comfortable with."
"No," he argued, "I'm not at all comfortable with this situation. We're being careful, Dad, but being with her like this isn't enough anymore. For either of us. I want this over with," he added with a sigh. "Is there any way to speed things up?"
"Possibly," Charles replied, his tone cool and business like. "If you could get me a copy of the Sanderford file."
Chandler scoffed exaggeratedly, "Yeah, and while I'm at it, why don't I just sprout wings and fly over New York whilst shitting gold bricks!"
Charles dismissed his son's sarcasm. "I can get things accomplished a lot faster with the file. Otherwise, I have to rely on my contacts for the information, which could take months--"
"Fine, Dad, fine. I'll try to get a copy of the file!" he snapped. "You know, sometimes I see little difference between you and Peter."
"Yeah, well, the biggest difference is that I'm family," his dad stated sternly. "Plus, when this is all over, half of this will be yours."
Chandler scowled at his dad's words. "I don't even care about that anymore, alright? All I care about is Monica."
"Son," Charles ordered, "I need your head in this. This is no time to get sloppy."
Chandler startled when Peter's cell phone started ringing. "I'm not getting sloppy, I'm just getting sick and tired of it all."
"If you get me that file," Charles enticed his son, "I'll do my best to end this as quickly as possible."
"Fine," Chandler agreed. "I have to go. Peter is calling." He clicked off his father's phone without saying goodbye as he reached for Peter's phone. "Yes sir?"
"Chandler, did you have my racket re-strung?" Peter asked without so much as a 'hello' first.
Yes sir, Chandler thought to himself, and I'd really like to beat you with it.
The urge to come back with a sarcastic quip was overwhelming, but Chandler swallowed his instincts and pride. "Yes, sir."
He listened as Peter rambled on about tasks and meetings and schedules, responding with his typical 'yes, sir' wherever appropriate, until the blowhard finally began to wrap it up.
"I need you here tomorrow, six A.M.," Peter informed. "The Sanderford meeting is at eight."
The name Sanderford got Chandler's heart racing. There would be no better time to grab the file and make a copy. He forced his voice to sound neutral, "Yes, sir."
Peter clicked off the phone without saying goodbye, which was typical for him, and Chandler rolled his eyes as he too clicked off the phone at the sound of dial tone.
"And goodbye to you too, sir," he snipped sarcastically as he tossed the phone aside.
He placed his private cell phone back in the secret compartment of his drawer, then proceeded to change into comfortable clothes.
He knew that the task ahead of him would be tricky, and dangerous. If Peter caught him, he would be instantly fired, and all he and his father had worked for would be wasted. But if it went well, all of it would be over with in a matter of a few short weeks. Then, he could focus on a real relationship with Monica.
He smiled as he thought of her. She was the most amazing woman he'd ever met, and what was even more amazing, was that she wanted him. And what was even more amazing than that, was that they had been able to keep their relationship a secret from the nosy Peter Becker.
Chandler's smile dropped as he wondered, did Peter really not know, or was he keeping his knowledge a secret?
*****
--The Sanderford file. Chandler's best hope of leaving his months-long nightmare behind him once and for all. And it was right in front of him, sitting atop Alice's desk.
"Peter in yet?" Chandler asked the dutiful secretary casually as he drank his Starbucks coffee.
"Not yet," she replied as she continued to type one of several memos that were in front of her.
"Sanderford file?" he asked as he pointed at it.
"Yes," she answered, somewhat distracted.
"What about the Carey file?"
She looked up abruptly, "He wanted the Carey file, too?"
"That's what he told me," he said with confidence. "Better run and get it," he chuckled slightly. "You know how he can get when his files aren't all in order and accounted for."
She quickly grabbed her keys from her desk drawer and headed for the file room.
With a brisk casual motion, he swept the Sanderford file off the desk and tucked it into his jacket, then replaced it with a 'dummy' file to buy himself time, all while being careful not to be in frame of the oscillating security camera.
When Alice walked back around the corner, he plastered on his best smile and gestured towards the hall. "If Peter isn't here yet, I'm just gonna go grab a donut or something. Want anything?"
"No, thank you."
He nodded, then headed down the hall and for the elevator. His heart was beating a mile a minute, knowing if he were caught with the file, knowing if he didn't copy the contents quickly and get the file back on Alice's desk, he would be fired. Or worse. He didn't even want to think about the ' or worse' part. Peter was capable of anything.
He made his way out of the building, leery of anyone who even looked at him, wondering if his expression showed the terror he was feeling. Was it obvious to those around him that he was 'up to something'? He struggled to look calm and 'normal' as he left the building and headed down the street for the nearby do-it-yourself copy place.
As he entered Copycat Copiers, he rushed for a free machine, whipping open the file and frantically placing the first page from the folder on the machine.
There was at least a hundred pages, and he was beginning to panic when after several minutes, he still wasn't half done. Every second felt like a minute; every minute felt like an hour. He started to become paranoid, looking around him to see if he was being watched, anxiously wondering if Peter was somehow onto him and was having him followed.
Finally done, he neatly tucked all the original papers back in the file folder before grabbing the stack of duplicates and heading for the counter.
"How many copies you make?" the surfer wanna-be asked Chandler with slurred speech.
Chandler briefly considered the guy to be stoned, then decided that that was probably a good thing. "About one hundred," he replied.
"Oh, dude, I gotta count them if you don't know," the clerk informed.
Chandler knew the guy was in no condition to count quickly, so he quickly made up a believable number. "One hundred and thirteen copies."
"You sure?" the clerk asked warily.
"Positive," Chandler replied.
The clerk shrugged, "I'll take your word for it."
--Chandler paid for the copies, stuffed the papers in a bag the clerk supplied, then rushed out the door and back towards Becker Enterprises.
He made a quick stop in his office, placing the copies of the file in a secret compartment of his briefcase before briskly marching over to Peter's office, hoping and praying he wasn't too late.
--"Where's your donut?" Alice asked as Chandler approached.
"Ate it on the way," he lied, noticing the files were now missing from her desk. "Peter here yet?"
"He just arrived," she confirmed. "Go on in."
His heart leapt. If Peter opened the file, and saw that it contained blank papers, he was sunk.
He nodded to the secretary, then knocked before pushing open the large office door.
"Chandler, good," Peter greeted him, his voice unforgiving. "Just the man I needed to see."
Chandler swallowed the hard lump in his throat, forcing himself not to look worried, hoping to God he didn't look terrified.
"Yes, sir?"
"Did I tell you we needed the Carey file?" Peter asked as he picked it up, glancing through it.
"Didn't you, sir?"
"No, I don't believe I did."
Chandler could feel the perspiration beading on his forehead. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't know where my mind was. Let me just run quick and return it to the file room."
Peter sighed in exasperation and tossed the file on his desk, on top of the Sanderford file. "Just be quick about it."
Chandler saw opportunity and grabbed it, literally. He grabbed both sets of files off the desk and made a hasty retreat, heading as quick as his feet would carry him without drawing attention to himself, towards the file room.
He unlocked the door, then darted inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Luckily, Peter was paranoid that lowly security guards would somehow be able to see file information on security cameras, so there were no cameras installed in the file room.
He swapped the dummy Sanderford file for the real file, then returned the Carey file to the 'C' drawer. He took a few deep breaths, willing himself to calm, then headed back for Peter's office.
--"Accidentally grabbed this one off your desk," Chandler informed as he extended the file towards his boss.
Peter took the file, eyed Chandler warily for a moment, then began to sift through the file. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he nodded, then pointed at a chair, ordering him to sit.
Chandler quickly took a seat, relief starting to wash over him as Peter began rambling about business in his usual fashion.
*****~*****
--"Sorry I'm late," Chandler sighed as he greeted Monica with a hug. "You would not believe the day I've had!"
"I'm sorry," Monica smiled sympathetically. "Want me to give you a back rub?"
He grinned, "Among other 'rubs'," he added, winking suggestively.
She led him to the bed, gesturing for him to sit before she climbed in and kneeled behind him, her fingers immediately going to work on his tense neck.
"I would ask you about your day, but I know you'd never tell me."
"Soon," he whispered as he began to relax into her touch. "I promise."
"You can't even tell me what has you so tense?" she asked, kneading a little harder his stiff muscles.
"You know I can't," he replied, sounding irritated, his muscles tensing further.
"Ok, ok," she conceded. "I'm sorry. Relax, ok?"
He nodded, and she could feel him start to relax again.
"Being with you at the end of the day is the only thing I have to look forward to," he admitted. "Did you know that?"
She smiled, "I feel the same way."
He slowly turned around to face her, and her hands left his neck as he did, dropping to her lap.
"You are so beautiful," he breathed, then leaned in to kiss her.
The kiss was just starting to heat up when she abruptly pulled away.
"What?" he asked, concerned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said with an awkward smile. "I'm just-- I'm not really in the mood tonight."
Disappointed but understanding, Chandler nodded. "Oh. Ok." He watched her for a moment, noting she seemed almost upset. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head, "I just have a headache."
Smiling, he encouraged her to lie back on the bed. "Let me see if I can help."
With soft gentle strokes, he caressed her forehead, her temples, around her eyes, helping her to relax so that the headache would leave.
"That feels wonderful," she purred. "You have no idea."
"I have a slight idea," he chuckled, then shushed her.
It was several minutes later, when Chandler abruptly asked, "Where did you get that watch?"
Monica's eyes shot open, and she looked from Chandler to the watch, then back again before stuttering her reply.
"Uh, Peter, actually, gave it to me. I think because he still wants to date me, but I told him I still wasn't interested."
Chandler just looked at her, an almost shocked expression on his face before he struggled to remove it from her wrist. Once he had it in his hand, he dropped it to the floor, then stood up and stomped hard on it.
"Chandler?! What are you doing?!"
He, for the most part, ignored her as he sifted through the pieces of metal and clockworks, finally finding what he was looking for.
Without any explanation, he grabbed all his and Monica's belongings, then drug her outside the hotel room, all the while her questioning him.
"Go back to your apartment," he told her once outside. "And lock the door. Don't answer it for anyone except me."
"Chandler," she interjected, "You're scaring me."
Chandler ran his hand through his hair in frustration, "Peter knows about us."
"What? How do you know that?"
"Well, if he didn't before he gave you the watch, he knows now."
"What are you talking about?"
"The watch had a bug in it," he informed. "You know, a listening device?"
"Oh my God."
"Yeah, my sentiments exactly," Chandler muttered, then grasped her shoulders. "I'm probably being overly paranoid, but I wouldn't put anything past this man, ok? Go home, lock the door, and don't answer it for anyone but me, alright?"
Stunned, she nodded.
"Good." He kissed her gently, then headed for the street to hail a cab. "I have to do some damage control," he told her, "But then I will be by to explain everything.
"Everything?" she questioned, wondering if he truly meant 'everything'.
"Yes," he nodded. "Everything. But I don't have time right now," he added. "I need you to go home where you'll be safe." His eyes searched hers, desperate to convey just how important his instructions were. "I need to be sure you're safe."
She nodded her understanding. "Alright, Chandler."
He hailed her a cab, making sure she was safely on her way home before hailing a cab of his own. Chandler knew at that moment, nothing would ever be the same ever again.
*****
--Monica slowly entered her apartment, grabbing a piece of paper from her purse before hanging it on it's designated hook. She looked blankly at the seven digits for a moment, then grabbed the phone, hesitating for just over a minute before dialing the number scribbled on the paper.
"It's Monica," she said into the phone. "Chandler found the bug."
TBC