The One With The Indecent Proposal

By: Jana~

Chapter Three

*****

--It was probably the alcohol talking, seeing as how she was near three sheets to the wind, but she was opening the door for negotiations, once again giving him hope.

"Well," he asked, offering a slight smile, "I don't know. What do you want?"

"You wanna know what I want?" she asked sharply, poking him in the chest. "Do you?" He simply nodded. "I want my own restaurant, that's what I want."

"Your own restaurant?" he repeated, confused. "Are you a business major or something?"

"No," she scoffed, "I'm a chef! At least, I used to be."

"You're not anymore?"

She shook her head. "When I moved in with Pete, I quit. It wasn't like I needed the money," she defended her actions, if only to herself. "Besides, the staff hated me anyway."

He couldn't imagine anyone hating this woman. "Why did they hate you?"

"The chef I replaced was related to most of the kitchen staff and waiters," she explained. "They wanted me gone. They even wrote 'quit bitch' on my chefs hat and baked my jacket!"

"Sounds like a hostile work environment."

"It was. But, it was something I had worked for all my life. To be head chef at a renowned restaurant… that was the dream."

"So, why did you quit? Why didn't you find a restaurant with employees that weren't hateful?"

She shrugged. "Pete said I didn't have to. He sorta talked me into giving it up. I miss it," she added ruefully.

"So, you want your own restaurant so you can fulfill your dream of being head chef?"

She nodded.

After a moment, pausing as if deliberating, he announced, "I can do that."

The abrupt motion of turning to look at him gave her another head rush, and she scowled as she tried to concentrate on him. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No," he shook his head, "I'm not."

Flustered and emotional, she asked, "Why are you doing this?"

He smiled. "I don't exactly know, I just know I have never felt like this about anyone, ever. I just want to get to know you better."

"You would be willing to spend that kind of money, just to get to know me better?" He nodded. "I'm nothing special," she sighed, looking away.

"I think you are." His eyes seemed to dance, displaying integrity in the depths.

"How much money did you win in the lottery, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Well, after taxes, and it was less because I chose the 'cash out' option instead of yearly payments, I saw about eighty-nine million dollars."

"Oh my God!"

"I know. There's no way I can spend that kind of money in my lifetime! I've given to charities and family and friends and strangers. I'm running out of people to give it to," he laughed.

The smile was slight, but she couldn't stop it from appearing. All things considered, she liked this man. He was definitely handsome, but it went beyond that. It was deeper than physical beauty.

"I can't believe I'm about to do this," she muttered, pulling tip money for the bartender from her handbag, stuffing it in the brandy snifter that was set out for that very purpose.

"Are you- are you saying yes?" he asked, careful not to assume.

She nodded. "But I'm going to hold you to the 'no sex' thing!"

With a gesture of his hands, he offered his assurances that he would be a perfect gentleman. "You have my word."

"What are you gonna say to Pete?" she asked, kicking her shoes off to make balancing and walking easier.

"You mean, am I still going to back his company?" She nodded. "I'm still going to give him the million. After all," he reminded, "I promised it to him."

"And you're going to buy me my own restaurant?!"

"Yes."

She shook her head, picking up her shoes to carry as she began to move away from the bar. "I just hope I don't disappoint."

He smiled as he walked beside her. "There's no way you can."

***

--Pete, being paranoid, insisted they draw up a contract, so that all aspects were spelled out and legal, if any problems should arise.

Chandler, for the most part, didn't mind, but he sensed Monica did.

--"Will you come by for your stuff?" Pete asked, glancing over at Monica as the lawyer friend who happened to be attending the party worked on the document.

"Yeah, but not tonight," she answered, speaking in a hushed tone.

"I could just have the stuff delivered," he offered, "If you'd rather."

She glanced down at the table, picking at her badly chewed fingernails. "Sure, ok. Thanks. But wait till tomorrow. So I can talk to Rachel first."

He nodded. "Alright."

"This is the strangest contract I've ever drafted," the lawyer muttered, turning the papers so the three involved could review it. "This basically gives the details of the deal, and you will all need to read it and sign it at the bottom." He pointed to where their signatures were required, then left them to read through it while he went to get a drink.

"I'm ok with the wording of this," Pete said as he finished, pulling a gold pen from his inside pocket, ready to sign.

Monica and Chandler were slower to finish, but when they did, they both agreed to what it said and in turn, borrowed Pete's pen to sign the paper.

"So, your twenty-four hours will start now?" Pete asked cautiously.

Monica glanced at Chandler before answering him. "As soon as we leave, yeah."

"So," he said, hesitation in his voice. "This is goodbye then."

Nodding, she threw Chandler a look that said she wanted a minute alone.

"I have a few phone calls to make," Chandler said as he removed his cell phone from his pocket. "If you'll excuse me."

They both nodded with an air of gratitude, waiting for him to be a few feet away before saying their goodbyes.

--Chandler glanced back as Monica and Pete embraced, averting his eyes a second later and dialing a number he knew by heart.

"Joe, it's me. Listen, I'll explain later, but I need your help with something."

--"Thanks for doing this," Pete muttered, obviously bad at being humble. "I really appreciate it."

"I don't want your thanks," she told him, her demeanor indifferent.

He nodded, mistaking her attitude for anger. "Are you sure you don't want any money?"

She shook her head. "I don't want any of your money."

"Mon," he sighed, "Please, let me give you something for doing this for me."

"I didn't just do this for you," she admitted, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"What are you saying?"

With an exasperated sigh, she dared to stare him straight on. "You know what I'm saying."

"You made a deal with him?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, I did," she replied with confidence. "What, you're the only person who can make deals?"

"What deal did you make? What are you getting?"

"That's none of your concern," she returned firmly.

"But, don't you want to draw up a contract or something?"

"No," she shook her head. "I trust him. If I didn't, I wouldn't be doing this at all."

"It's your decision," he whispered, spotting Chandler on the approach. "I wish you all the happiness in the world, Mon."

She nodded. "Ditto."

Chandler cleared his throat, gaining Monica's attention. "We ready?"

She stared at Pete for another moment, then turned to the virtual stranger she was about to go home with. "Yes. As ready as I'll ever be."

"Bye, Mon," Pete said with a wave, an obvious sadness to his tone.

Hesitating in her departure, Monica nodded. "Bye, Pete," she whispered, refusing to cry, knowing if she looked back, she would.

"My limo is right outside," Chandler told her softly, touching the small of her back slightly, briefly, showing support for what was obviously an emotional moment.

"Fine." She acknowledged him with a quiet voice and sad eyes.

--"Please tell me this isn't because of me," he begged, gesturing for the chauffeur to hold when he moved to open the door, turning Monica to face him.

She offered a small smile of reassurance. "This isn't because of you," she told him sincerely. "This has been coming for a long time now. Before you even made your little proposal, I had planned to break up with him tonight, after this party."

"I'm sorry you're so sad."

The bluest eyes she'd ever seen looked back at her, his expression genuine. She didn't doubt his sincerity for a moment.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine."

Chandler smiled, relieved, then made a motion for the chauffeur to continue with his duties and open the door for them, which he did with haste. After they were in the limousine, the driver shut the door, then climbed into the driver's seat, awaiting instructions.

"Home, James," Chandler instructed, smiling to himself. "I've always wanted to do that," he whispered to Monica, showing her that the driver's name was indeed James, his ID badge within view. She laughed, putting the evening on a good track for events to come.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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