A/N: Hey again! I decided to try to start updating more often . . . partly because I kind of want to get this one done so that I can start that new one I was talking about (don't get me wrong – I really don't mind finishing this one, it's not like I'm going to do it hastily or anything), and secondly because I think you guys deserve to be able to read chapters more frequently. I hate it when I love a story that someone's writing but they only post chapters like once every couple of months. It gets annoying. =D No offence to you that do that because I can understand the whole lack of time thing, though.
Okay! On with the story -- I'm just writing this chapter with absolutely no rough draft in front of me, which is strange for me, but I'll do my best.
Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief, none of the "Friends" characters are mine. They belong to Bright, Kauffman, and Krane.
Someone to Lean On
Chapter 12: Avoiding Without Knowing
A short middle-aged bald man answered the door when George rung the house's doorbell. He looked George up and down, a look of distaste on his face. "Yeah?"
George was slightly taken aback by the fact that it wasn't Monica or her new boyfriend who answered . . . but who knew, maybe they had a roommate or something. After just looking at that pretty-boy Monica had chosen over him, he could predict what the guy was like. Probably he had some boring job, something that had to do with typing numbers into a computer all day, not really going anywhere in his life. The guy probably didn't make enough to pay for this house himself – hence, this pathetic excuse for a roommate standing in the doorway.
"Hi, I'm looking for John Mills. Is he home?"
"I'm him. Listen, if you're one of those annoying salespeople, I'm not interested. Got it?" The man looked as if he was about to slam the door, but George stopped him.
"Wait! No, I'm not selling anything. You . . . you're not John Mills, are you?"
"Not that it's really your business anymore, but yes. That's what I said." The man smiled, mock-politely, then stepped back inside and closed the door.
George stood there for a moment, perplexed. Had the desk clerk at the County place given him the wrong address? That was possible, he supposed, but wouldn't she have said something if there had been more than one John Mills? Or had he been mistaken?
He laughed suddenly, knowing that would never happen. John Mills WAS the name that Monica had said, and this guy was just a fraud. Of course he wasn't John Mills – by some means, he knew about the whole situation and was merely covering for the bastard.
George was overtaken by a sudden onrush of anger, and knocked again on the door three times, more firmly this time. The fake John Mills opened the door, looking very annoyed. "Look, you little—"
He was interrupted by George's fist slamming into the front of his face. Hard.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Oh my god," Rachel said quietly when a headline in the morning paper caught her eye.
"What?" Phoebe asked. She was getting a small breakfast prepared for herself Monday morning. She had over slept, and was attempting to complete all the tasks while rubbing sleep out of her eyes and getting ready for work. She had an appointment to be at by 8:15, and it was already ten 'till.
"Oh, someone got beat up at his home Saturday afternoon."
"Really? anybody we know?" Phoebe was a little worried, seeing how barely anything like this happened in the City. People got hurt of course, but those situations commonly happened on the streets, after midnight – not on someone's property, in the afternoon.
"John Mills; I don't know him." Rachel shrugged, turning the page to look at the fashion segment.
Phoebe buttered her toast and commented, "At least it wasn't us."
She didn't know just how true that was.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Do you really have to go?" Monica asked gently while coming up behind Chandler and wrapping her arms around him.
"Sorry, babe." He turned to face her. "I've got to. I've been taking so many 'sick days' lately that I think if I stayed home today, my boss wouldn't be too happy."
"Aw, screw your boss!" Monica said, joking.
"I don't think that would be a good idea, either." Chandler winked and kissed her on the forehead. "Hey, why do you get today off, by the way?"
"I'm not sure really . . . I think it's one of those holidays that are so insignificant that you don't even notice when they pass, but restaurants see it as an excuse to give their workers a break or something."
"Lucky you." He grinned, and then looked at his watch and began toward the door. "Hey, I've got to go. You be careful, okay?"
Monica nodded and blew him a kiss. "I will. I'll be waiting for you, okay?"
"Sounds good – love you." With that he left, and Monica turned to face the rest of the apartment, feeling boredom set in already. She shrugged and decided to make use of this opportunity to clean the slightly messy apartment. Chandler wasn't all that bad when it came to keeping up a residence; Joey was the main problem. He really was a great guy, but when it came to putting things away, he seemed to have a little blank spot there.
~*~*~*~*~*~
George sat heavily in his favorite chair by the window looking out upon the street and sighed. He had no intention of going to work today; Saturday's defeat had left him with only depression. That is, until he happened to catch a glance of a figure leaving the building across the street.
Somehow, miraculously, the landlord had allowed George to keep this apartment, as long as he got a job and was able to save for the next month's payment after Monica had left. So, he was left here with the memories and the same old view of that boring little coffee house with an apartment building over it across the street. Same old rusty pipes, the same old orangish-yellow water stains in the sinks, toilets, and the shower. It was all things that Monica had constantly tried to fix when she was here, but the disarray of the place was as persistent as this damn city – it was just there. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Actually, George didn't have any problem with the city, it was the people in it.
And now, as he looked out of his window, something happened that brightened his day. The man who had left the apartment building, and who was now flagging down a yellow taxi look familiar . . . unsettlingly familiar. George opened the window wide and leaned out to get a better look. That look confirmed exactly what he had thought. The man was the man who was now with Monica; the one who had helped Monica move out. The one who had stared at him warningly in the restaurant the other day.
George smiled evilly, now satisfied that he at least knew where the guy lived. All he need now was to do a little more planning.
A/N:
Hey! It's you again! ;)
Okay, I just want to make sure you know that what I said about New York City up there—that was purely George's thoughts. I would never say that New York's a damn city. New York rocks!!! =D
Also, sorry again about that chapter. I wrote it in like a half hour so it probably sucks. Lol, seriously though, tell me what you think! Anything I might be able to clear up that is confusing you? I'll try my best to answer in the next chapter if you ask me via review. Thanks everyone!