Chapter 8: Monica Finds That You Can Have Too Much of a Good Thing

Author's Note: Those who know the Friends episodes backwards and probably quote them in their sleep will have noticed that I only refer to two Ultimate Fighting Champion bouts, whereas in 3,24 there is a third, right at the end. But this must have happened long after the second (a torn rotator cuff does not heal quickly), so, in my alternate Friends Series 4, this simply did not happen.

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Monica glanced surreptitiously at her watch. This was clearly one of those top quality restaurants which did not consider fast service a high priority. In the past, on a date with Pete, likely she wouldn't even have noticed, but now … She suppressed a sigh. Why was he being so … boring? A casual enquiry had produced a blow-by-blow account of how he had nipped conspiracy in the bud and reasserted his control of his company, which had involved share dealings and corporate manoeuvrings of the most tediously complex kind. He had then, after a detailed analysis of where he had gone wrong in his two Ultimate Fighting Champion bouts, expanded on what it had meant to him to give the competition up. This had strengthened an impression she had gained before, that he had been shunned at high school as the ultimate geek and this had instilled a latent obsession to prove to all the jocks and their admirers that he was superior to them, which some trigger had brought out.

This had at least struck a sympathetic chord with her. Her dramatic loss of weight in her final year at high school had taken its original impetus from Chandler's hurtful remark, but it had been driven on by an urge to outdo Rachel's cheerleader friends. These had treated her with good-natured contempt when she was fat, generally ignoring her or at most teasing her only up to a certain limit, but when she began to lose weight seriously and show a good figure their teasing had become vicious and spiteful. Loyal friend that she was, Rachel had tried to stop this, but that merely led them to pick on Monica when Rachel wasn't around. But high school was a long time ago, and Pete should have realised how little value there was in what had attracted most admiration at student level. He had made far more of his life than any of the jocks, in all probability, let alone their admirers, and had had plenty of opportunities to learn that the fame gained for excellence at physical skills was generally the least enduring, unless you were really top class, and so the least worth having.

Pete said something in an interrogative tone, and she hastily refocussed her attention on him. "Sorry, Pete, my mind was wandering," she said apologetically. "You were saying?"

"I was saying, do you know how long we've been waiting? It seems a while."

She looked at her watch openly this time. "Fifteen minutes since they cleared our first course plates."

Pete frowned, but did not seem inclined to do anything about it just then. Monica sighed for the old Pete, who had such an air of command about him that no one would have dared to keep him waiting. Had the restaurant staff seen him defeated on TV, and lost all respect for him?

"You can bet it won't be like this in my restaurant," she said rather ferociously. "I'll be on everyone's ass to make sure they give good service."

Pete smiled warmly. "Yeah, you've got the drive all right. That's why I want you to run it. The people I have in now – they do a good job, but they haven't invested something of themselves

in it." He reached across and patted her hand. "I know you'd do that. In fact, I want you to be more than head chef – I'd like you to act as overall manager, though you'll have help on the administrative side."

Just then the main course finally arrived, with profuse apologies from the maitre d'hotel: apparently there had been some kind of disaster in the kitchen, and everyone's meals had been held up. Monica had to admit, after the first mouthful, that it had been worth waiting for. The wine was also excellent, and it seemed to have a beneficial effect on Pete, who spoke knowledgeably and enthusiastically of the region of France that it came from, which he had actually visited not too long ago. She responded to his enthusiasm, and soon they were having as lively and wide-ranging a conversation as in the old days. This was more like it, she thought.

A shadow fell across the table.

"Monica," said a familiar voice.

She looked up, flushing involuntarily. There was Richard, looking at her with considerable warmth.

"R-richard … how are you?" she stammered.

"Oh, fine, you know," he said casually, and turned to Pete. "Mr. Becker, I recognise you from the cover of Time a year or so back. I'm glad to see you've made a good recovery from your injuries."

"Pete, this is Dr. Richard Burke," said Monica. "I've known him like for ever, since I was a child."

"Pleased to meet you," said Pete fairly cordially. "Are you arriving or departing?"

"Departing," said Richard. "And not a moment too soon," he added sharply. "The food was good, but maybe it just seemed that way because, by the time it arrived, I would have eaten a horse raw, and its saddle and bridle."

Monica shrieked with laughter. It was the kind of thing that Richard had used to say sometimes that really tickled her. Richard smiled and her heart turned over. God, don't do this to me, she said in her head. Don't make me have to choose between them.

"You were on your own?" Pete was saying.

Richard looked a little embarrassed. "No. I, um, had a date, but she, er, walked out on me." His face had gone slightly red. "I, er, kept looking over at Monica."

Monica felt herself go warm all over as he gazed at her. This isn't happening, she thought desperately. I mustn't fall in love with Richard again. But …

"W-won't you sit down?" she said, then to Pete, "You don't mind, do you? We haven't seen each other for so long."

She got a fairly strong impression that Pete did mind, but he agreed affably enough, though looking at Richard with suspicion. Richard sat down with almost indecent haste, directing another even higher intensity smile at her, which weakened her defences still further. Life was so unfair, she thought. All that time without a boyfriend, and now here were two men who had been important to her in the past, both obviously interested. At least Richard could not offer her a job.

Richard accepted some of the wine that Pete offered him, and proceeded to enter into conversation. Monica had to hand to him, he was really good. Clearly aware that he was on delicate ground, he did not pay exceptional attention to her, but spoke mostly with Pete, discussing his success at such a relatively young age in admiring terms and even commiserating with him over his failure to make an impression in the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Along the way, he cunningly managed to discover what the actual relationship between Pete and Monica was, as well as finding out how Monica was doing now. He showed considerable sympathy when she told the story of how she had catered a party for her mother and had ultimately triumphed.

"I've never understood this thing Judy has, to be so critical and dismissive of you," he said, shaking his head. "It's almost like a compulsion."

"Well, in the end she did apologise and said she was impressed," said Monica, feeling an unexpected need to defend her mother. "She does that sometimes, you know; she'll recognise when she's gone too far. But … I guess I'll never match up to Ross, in her eyes." She sighed. "I wish I had Sandra Green for a mom, or even Phoebe's real mom, who sounds nice, if almost as weird as Phoebe."

"What's this?" said Richard, looking interested. "I thought Phoebe's mom committed suicide when she was fourteen."

"Yeah, I haven't heard this either," said Pete.

Monica told them the story, which led on to the events at the beach house. She managed to conceal anything to do with herself by keeping them focussed on Phoebe's discoveries, the Ross-Rachel-Bonnie saga, and Rachel's sudden display of amazing competence when Phoebe was stung by a jellyfish. But she suspected that Richard was not taken in by her assertion, in answer to a direct query, that nothing out of the ordinary had happened to her. An amused and knowing look had appeared on his face, and she could not keep eye contact. But he did not press it, for which she was grateful, and then she made them laugh by bringing them right up to date, with the story of how Joey had been tricked and all his and Chandler's furniture had been stolen.

"Man, things seem to keep happening to you people," said Pete. "Well, Monica, would you like to order a dessert?" Their waiter had appeared and was hovering.

"I'd better not," said Monica rather ruefully. "If I eat any more, I'm liable to bust right out of this dress."

"And wouldn't that be a pretty sight," said Richard with a deep chuckle.

Her eyes met his again, and the warmth in his expression made her feel almost faint. She could not seem to look away.

Pete gave a sharp cough. "Just coffee, then?" he said when Monica forced her gaze round to him. He was looking very suspicious again.

"Y-yes please," she stammered. "No, wait, I'll take a decaf."

"Coffee for you, Dr. Burke?" said Pete with rather icy courtesy.

"Thank you, I'll order my own," said Richard. "A brandy and espresso, please," he said to the waiter. "Separate bill."

"Certainly, sir," said the waiter, with considerably more deference than he showed to Pete. There was no doubt about it, Monica thought. Richard looked the part of the sophisticated diner-out, and for all his experience and money, Pete did not. She remembered how they had first met, when he came into the Moondance Diner for lunch. She couldn't imagine Richard doing that.

"Pete, we still haven't settled on a time to meet at the restaurant tomorrow," she burst out. Anything to take her mind off Richard.

"Neither we have," said Pete a bit formally. "Nine o'clock okay for you? I can't stay long."

"That's fine," she said. "I'm, I'm really looking forward to it." She turned to Richard. "Pete's wants me to be head chef and manager for this nice little restaurant he owns."

"Really?" said Richard. "Does that mean you won't be available to accept outside commissions any more?" His eyes twinkled in a way she knew well.

"W-well, not necessarily," said Monica, thinking ohgodohgodohgod, don't look at me like that. "I mean, Phoebe and I have been doing this together, so if it were in the next few days, yeah, I guess I'd be available, but anyway, maybe I could take some time off from the restaurant, for an old customer…" She stopped, aware that she was babbling.

"It's just, I'm thinking of throwing another party for my colleagues," said Richard casually. "Boring, but it's got to be done. They really appreciated your food the last time." He looked across at Pete. "Have you not made use of her talents that way? I tell you, the girl's a genius."

Monica found herself resenting his casually patronising tone, which made it sound as if she was about nineteen, but in a moment she recognised its intention, to suggest to Pete that Richard's interest in her was purely avuncular. It certainly worked, for Pete seemed to relax. Monica tried to avoid eye contact with Richard thereafter, but she could not shut out awareness of his presence, so close to her. It was no good: she was far more attracted to him than to Pete, and she could only hope that it was not completely obvious.

Finally, to her relief, coffees were finished, everything was paid for, and Richard took a friendly farewell of them, giving Monica a brief handshake only. But the touch of his hand was like an electric shock; it took all her self-control not to gasp.

Pete suggesting walking back to her apartment, since it was a fine night, and she was happy to agree, hoping the walk would calm her down. They chatted idly of this and that, until Pete suddenly said, "You two dated, didn't you?"

Monica gulped, but could see no sense in lying. "Yes," she said. "Getting over him was the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

Pete sighed. "Just my luck. But he is a bit old for you, isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Monica, "and he doesn't want more children – his own are my age – and I do, very much. So it couldn't go anywhere, and we broke up."

"Mmm," went Pete. "Now, I do want children."

"Give me some time, Pete," Monica pleaded. "I need to get over seeing Richard again. He, he has this effect on me … I'm not saying I won't date you, but you must give me time."

"I was patient enough the first time," said Pete, grinning, "so I've had practice. Well, there's your apartment block over there. I think I'll say goodnight here, and hope to see you tomorrow."

"It will take something really major to keep me away!" said Monica enthusiastically. She remembered in time to embrace him carefully. They smiled at each other, touched lips, and then he went off to the limousine that had been prowling along beside them, turning to wave at her as he got in. He head still in something of a whirl, Monica crossed the road carefully and let herself into the apartment block, wondering how things had gone with the others.

When she got in, Rachel was sitting alone watching TV, but she switched off as soon as Monica entered and turned to smile at her from the couch.

"Long date," she said.

Monica grinned. "Yeah. Good movie?"

"It was kind of fun," Rachel conceded.

"Everyone else gone to bed?"

"Yeah," said Rachel. "Phoebe was tired, so she said, and Chandler was not talking. He and Joey went off to play foosball or something. So, are you gonna tell me how it went, or do I have to drag the details out of you?"

Monica got herself some water and sat down. "You'll never believe what happened. Richard showed up while we were having dinner."

"Oh my God!" said Rachel, sitting bolt upright. "But … you're over him, right?"

"Oh Rach!" Monica sighed. "Every time I see him, it's like we're starting all over again." For the next quarter hour she poured out an account of the date, Richard's sudden appearance, and everything that happened thereafter, down to each individual glance. Rachel made a very good audience, playing close attention and frowning or gasping at appropriate points.

"So what am I gonna do?" Monica ended despairingly. "The man has got right under my skin. I feel far more for him than for Pete … but it can't go anywhere! So what do I do when he calls up, wanting me to cater another party for him, as I'm sure he will?"

"Well, you could turn him down," said Rachel judiciously. "That would be the smart move: nip this in the bud."

Monica's face showed pain.

"Or," Rachel continued, "you could see if he's changed his mind – about kids, I mean. Look, this is the second time he's run across you, and has he just looked embarrassed, said hi, nice to see you, and got away as quickly as he could? No, he's clearly got it just as bad for you as you have for him. Maybe he's had a change of heart. I think it would be worth finding out, anyway."

Monica beamed at her. "Sweetie, how great of you to give me a good argument for doing what I want to do anyway. So, how are you feeling about Chandler now?"

Rachel glowered. "He hardly said a word to me all evening."

"Poor Rach," said Monica sympathetically. "So you didn't have to fend him off?"

"I might have been part of the furniture," said Rachel bitterly. "Maybe he's had a change of heart too."

"Well, okay," said Monica. "I hereby authorise you to do your worst as far as he's concerned. And because you've been so supportive about it all, I will stick to my agreement. Linguine with marinara sauce for you tomorrow."

"Great!" said Rachel enthusiastically. "At least I'll get something out of it. Because I have this sort of feeling, the moment for him and me may have passed."

This view seemed strikingly confirmed when she discovered the next day, to her amazement and horror, that Chandler had called Joanna her boss and asked for a date, which she had been more than happy to give him.

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Author's Endnote: Sorry, still no room for Ross and Bonnie. Next chapter, I promise.