The One With The Digital Fairytale
Chapter Nine
By: Jana~
*****~*****
--Monica found it to be a challenge, trying to get Rachel to stop asking a million questions about Chandler. With her nosy and gossipy nature, Rachel wasn't willing to drop the matter easily.
"Rachel," Monica pleaded, "I really can't say anymore."
"Can't or won't?" Rachel whined. "C'mon Mon! I'm your best friend!"
"I know that!" Monica shot back, "And I would tell you if I knew, but, I just really don't know much of anything at this point!"
"Fine." Rachel seemed to accept Monica's denial of knowledge, abruptly moving on to a different subject of interest. "So, is he a good kisser?"
"Yeah," Monica smiled. "He is."
Rachel was pleased with that answer. "Ok," she prompted happily, "Kiss and tell! What else is he good at?"
"Rachel," Monica half-scolded, "I'm not going into detail!"
"You're no fun!" Rachel huffed. "Guess I'll just take a bath and head off to bed then." She grabbed a cheesy romance novel from her bedroom, then headed for the bathroom. "Nora Bing's new novel," she informed as she held the book up for Monica to see. "And she kisses and tells!"
"Yeah," Monica muttered, holding back a grin. "And do you know who that is?"
"Who who is?"
"The author," Monica said casually, "Nora Bing? Is Chandler's mother."
"Whoa!" Rachel exclaimed. "Wait-- wait a minute! You're kidding, right?!"
"Nope," Monica shook her head. "Not kidding."
"Oh my God!" Rachel shrieked. "I love her books! Can he introduce me?!"
Monica rolled her eyes. "I think he's just a wee bit preoccupied with more important matters at the moment," she patronized.
Rachel scoffed, "Well, I didn't mean right this second!"
"I'll ask him in a day or two," Monica sighed. "Ok?"
Rachel did a little hop, obviously excited as she continued on her way into the bathroom to take her bath.
--Monica could hear Rachel turn on the bathtub faucet, whimpering softly as she sunk into the warm water a few minutes later.
She plopped down on the couch, her brain racing as it replayed the day's events.
"What have I gotten myself into?" she asked herself as she rubbed her temples, a severe headache already taken hold. "Better question, how do I get myself out of it?"
*****
--"You know what to do tomorrow?" Charles asked his son after all his business associates left.
"I think so," Chandler muttered, nodding.
"Think so?" Charles asked anxiously. "Son, there is no margin for error with this, alright? You can't just--"
"It's just an expression, Dad, ok? Would you try to have a little faith in me for once?"
"I do have faith in you, it's just that, without the meeting, none of this will be--"
"I know. I know how important it is that I get you the meeting with Peter," he sighed, exasperated. "Why don't you just add some more pressure and see if you can't get my brain to explode?!"
Charles patted Chandler on the back, showing his understanding and support, then quietly grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door, his bodyguard, Frank following behind.
Chandler sighed as he pushed the chairs in around the conference table, his heart beating just a little faster than normal as he stressed about the plan that was about to be put into action. He knew he would be getting little sleep, knowing what lie ahead on the other side of the darkness of night.
Daybreak. A new day. A day that would be one of the most intense of Chandler's life.
"No going back now," he muttered to himself as he headed out the door and for his own apartment. "Maybe I'll get lucky and get murdered on the way," he scoffed grimly.
***
--"Hello?"
"Monica," Chandler smiled when he heard her voice. "Sorry to call so late," he apologized.
"That's ok," she replied groggily, sitting up in bed and turning on the bedside lamp. "Is everything ok?"
"Tomorrow's the day," he confided in her. "And I guess I'm just a little bit nervous."
"I can understand that," she soothed. "I don't understand everything that's going on, but I do understand that."
"I'm worried that something is going to go wrong," Chandler told her. "That I'm going to let my father down, as well as his associates. There's a lot riding on me, and if I mess up…"
"You won't," Monica assured him supportively.
"This company means everything to my father," he lamented. "And it's literally all up to me. I mean, once they get in there, then they'll take over, but getting them in there. That's my job. And if I fail…"
"I know, but Chandler," she said firmly, "You can't do this to yourself. Even if it doesn't work out according to plan, you have already done so much for your father. Taken a job as whipping boy for a horrible man, basically putting your life on hold, all because you care about him. And respect him. If he can't see that…"
"It's not as simple as that, unfortunately," he sighed. "My dad does appreciate my help, but if I fail in getting him into Peter's office, that is what he'll remember till his dying day. Not the months of sacrifice, but that I messed up in the end. When it mattered most."
She could hear the pain in his voice. "I wish I was there right now, to massage your back or something. You sound so tense."
"I passed tense hours ago. I've moved on to a pretzel-like state."
"Do you want me to come over?"
"As appealing as that is, I couldn't ask you to do that," he declined. "It's so late…"
"Ok, so, why don't you come here?" She grinned as she lowered her voice into a sexy growl. "I'll make it worth your while."
Chandler shuddered at the possibilities. "I'll be right over."
*****
--"Your dad doesn't like me," Monica stated as she lay naked in Chandler's arms.
"He's just paranoid," Chandler defended him. "He doesn't know you well enough to form an opinion one way or another."
"He doesn't trust me then," she rephrased.
"He can be a very distrusting person," he affirmed, "But, he trusts my judgement… for the most part."
"You trust me, right?" she asked, kissing his chest.
"Of course I do."
"You're in danger, aren't you? Because of what you 'have' on Peter."
He sighed, pulling her closer. "A little bit," he admitted, "But don't worry about that, ok?"
She scoffed. "How can I not?!"
"The chance of bodily harm is slim, if that's what you're worried about."
"Oh, that's comforting," she muttered sarcastically. After a moment's silence she asked, "How slim?"
"If Peter were to find out what I've been up to before the meeting, before the trump card was played, he might have one or two of his thugs work me over a bit, maybe break a limb or two. Or all four."
"Oh, God," she whispered.
"Please don't worry, ok, Mon? I can take care of myself. And besides, I don't think he knows anything."
If he could've seen Monica's expression just then, he might not have been so sure.
*****
--Chandler walked into Becker Enterprises, trying to look comfortable and confident, and not uneasy and scared. Was it just his imagination, or was everyone staring at him?
Get the meeting. Get the meeting, he kept chanting silently inside his head as he headed down the long corridor. He had to get Alice away from her desk. She would be his unwitting accomplice.
He'd spent months learning to copy her handwriting, which was no easy task considering she wrote so very neatly. Sloppier would have been easier to forge, Chandler thought.
If he could get her away from her desk, and he timed it just right with the oscillating security cameras, he could forge Peter's appointment book and add his Dad's alias to the schedule.
Why was the theme from Mission Impossible suddenly going through his head?
He shook it off and took a deep breath, Alice's desk suddenly within view. He didn't even know how he got there.
"Morning, Alice," he greeted her casually. At least he hoped he sounded casual. "Peter in?"
"Not yet," she replied distantly.
They'd always been cordial to one another, but she never really seemed to like him. She was always just cordial enough, without giving any extra.
After today, he reminded himself, it won't matter.
"Hey, Alice, what happened to the Montgomery file?"
She scowled in response. "Why?"
"I was looking for it, but couldn't find it," he said nonchalantly. "Did you put it back after the meeting Wednesday?"
She sighed as she grabbed her keys from her desk, "Yes," she snipped, irritated. "I'll go get it."
"Thank you, Alice," he said with a smile, to which she just rolled her eyes.
"Don't forget to feed your flying monkeys," he muttered quietly to himself when she was out of earshot, watching her walk away till she was out of view.
He glanced at the security camera, waiting for it to move to the other side of the room before quickly turning the appointment book on Alice's desk toward him. He grabbed her pen, peeking back in the direction of the file room to be sure the coast was still clear, then began to forge her writing, adding a Mr. Dennis to the book.
He stopped quick as the camera found its way back to where he was, and he leaned against the desk, lazily tapping his fingers on the edge until the camera moved away again.
He knew he didn't have much more time. He'd hidden the file he'd asked Alice to find, but not so much so that she wouldn't be able to track it down. He moved it out of alphabetical order by only a few letters.
Finishing the entry, he turned the book back into position just as Alice approached.
"What were you doing?" she asked suspiciously.
He shrugged, pretending not to know what she was talking about.
"With the appointment book," she elaborated.
"Just looking at today's appointments, is all." The lie rolled off his tongue easily. "Is that the file?" he asked, quickly changing the subject.
She paused for a moment, still eyeing him suspiciously, then nodded. "Yeah. It was placed behind the Miller file."
He chuckled, "Well, we all make mistakes," he said as he took the file from her hand, pretending to be interested in something within the pages.
"I, did not make the mistake, sir," she snipped, upset by his words.
"Hey, it's no biggie," he assured her, knowing he was upsetting her but continuing to tug at the thread anyway. "No one is perfect."
If she was flustered, she would be more apt to gloss over the newer entry in the appointment book, and he knew which buttons to push with her.
"No, I know I'm not perfect, Mr. Bing, but I would never make such a mistake!"
"Yeah, well, maybe the file fairies got in there and rearranged some things," he patronized. "Maybe you should check and see if any other files were 'disturbed'."
She huffed at his smug sarcastic demeanor, then sat back at her desk, the appointment book directly in front of her. "What is this?"
Chandler's heart stopped. This was it. Convince her, and Peter would go along with whatever she said. If he failed to convince her, he was sunk. She would tell Peter that someone had tampered with the book, maybe even implicate Chandler, since he had been hovering over it.
"What's what?" he asked, pretending to have little interest as he continued to browse through the file in front of him.
"This appointment with Mr. Dennis. I don't remember writing this."
"Maybe Peter did," he suggested. "Does it look like his writing?"
"No," she said, puzzled. "It looks like mine."
He tore his eyes away from what he was reading, supposedly reading, and gave her appointment book his attention. "Looks like your writing to me. Maybe you were just tired when you jotted it down."
"No," she shook her head. "I swear it wasn't there earlier this morning."
He was losing. He forced a chuckle, "More fairies?" he asked, mocking her. "File fairies and appointment book fairies. What a whimsical place!"
"I don't appreciate your tone, sir," she shot back.
He shrugged, "Sorry," he apologized with a hint of ridicule to his tone. "Just trying to be helpful."
She studied the book for a moment, and Chandler watched her out of his peripheral vision. Finally, she sighed and pushed the book aside.
"Remember writing it now?" he asked, trying not to sound like he cared too much about her answer.
"Not really, but, I did have a headache last night. I guess it's possible that I just simply forgot."
"Good," he said with a kind tone. "Mystery solved then." He handed her back the Montgomery file, "And I'm done with that now." She glared at him. "But I can put it away," he added off her look of disdain.
--He walked away, inwardly emotional at knowing he had just successfully completed phase one. Now, it was on to phase two.
***
--Monica paced the floor, knowing that at any minute, she would be the bearer of bad news. She wished she didn't have to be. She wished she knew how to get out of it. All of it. She hated her current situation, but a way out of it was nowhere in sight.
The knock at the door startled her, stopping her dead in her tracks. Slowly, she opened the door, offering the individual on the other side a strained smile.
"You needed to talk to me?"
"Yeah," Monica said softly, her mouth dry as cotton because of nervousness. "And it's not good news."
TBC
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