Somewhat short AN: I apologize for the delay. I went on vacation for two weeks and actually didn't think I would work on anything while I was gone, but I did and here's the first posting of my efforts. Also, someone mentioned in the feedback about Emma's sudden appearance and I just wanted to issue an apology for that as well. Her appearance was sort of abrupt and I apologize for just springing her on you guys, but I had debated up until the last minute on whether (and how) to have her exist in my friends world, considering the obvious obstacles with her paternity. Fortunately I think I have all those kinks worked out now (insert Phoebe's evil laugh).
P.S. Thank you all very much for your feedback.
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I cast an apologetic glance at Monica (who's still staring down at her plate and therefore likely misses it) before shooing the waiter away with my order for vodka straight up (double). The tension at the table has forced my hand at sobriety. Screw sober. The only way to survive this dinner is vodka, and lots of it. As it is, the air around the table is so cold that if I lean too far to the left I'm afraid some important body parts will start freezing, and judging by Rachel's reciprocal expression subzero temperatures can be found at the other end of the table. I'm tempted tell Monica to put on a sweater.
"Excuse me," a pretty redhead interrupts. She's standing between Ross and Joey and has a sort of awestruck smile on her face. Scratch that. Star struck. Sure enough her next question confirms what I suspected.
"Are you Joey Tribbiani from Days of Our Lives?"
Joey grins disarmingly and the girl practically wilts at the gesture. I catch Monica's eye and we both roll ours heavenward before I shake my head in disgust and Monica smiles.
"Yes. Yes, I am," Joey replies easily.
"Ahh!" she shrieks and Joey's smile falters for just a second before returning. Ross' brow is furrowed so deep it has to be painful.
"Oh my God! I just love you! You're, like, my favorite character. And when you became Jessica Lockhart—wow! How incredible was that?"
I snicker in amusement before Monica slaps my knee. I shrug in defense. Joey keeps smiling.
"Could I have your autograph, please?"
"Well...I'm..."
"Oh, please. I'm so sorry to interrupt your dinner and I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing you, but it's just... you're my favorite actor and you're well, oh, God, this is so stupid, but you're so hot!"
"It's no problem," Joey quickly assures her. Red beams giddily. "Uh, do you have a pen?"
"Oh, um—"she looks around frantically as Ross watches the whole exchange with a mixture of confusion and curious amusement.
"So, are you all ready to order?" Our waiter appears, pen and tab at the ready.
"May I?" Red asks, snatching his pen away before he can object.
"Okay," Joey says, looking for something to write on. Cute redhead searches her pockets before pouting in disappointment. Slowly they both turn to the waiter who resignedly rips a tab sheet off and hands it to Joey.
"Okay, who do I make this out to?"
"Heather," Heather says.
"Heather? That's my favorite name," Joey informs her.
"Really? I always thought it was boring."
"Heather? Are you kiddin' me? I love that name. A hot name for a hot girl."
"Gosh, with so much love in the air I sure hope I can keep my dinner down," I mutter. Something rams my shin and I wince in pain. Joey's eyes flicker momentarily away from schmoozing Heather before he continues.
"Thank you," Heather blushes prettily.
"No problem." He starts marking on the tab sheet. "Now, what do you want me to write?" Heather looks at a loss before Joey snaps his fingers. "'Heather,'" he writes, "'How you doin?'"
Heather seems to think this is practically poetic genius because she openly fawns her tab sheet before letting out a—I'm guessing—contented shriek. Joey's smile falters again for another moment before returning as Heather gives Joey a quick hug and Joey takes the opportunity to let his hands do a little walking. She giggles deliriously and trips away from our table with a little wave.
Joey turns back to us with a smug smile.
"A hot name for a hot girl?" Ross repeats.
"What?"
"I can't believe you're still milking your Days of Our Lives gig. How many years has it been since you were on that show?"
"What do you mean?" Joey asks, upset. "I'm still on it."
"I thought you were fired," Ross explains.
"Oh, that," Joey answers with relief. He shrugs. "No about three years ago I was offered to return as Drake Ramoray."
"Offered? Uh, let' still the story like it really was," I cut in.
Joey shoots me an evil glare. "Am I not on DOOL as Dr. Drake Ramoray?"
"DOOL?" Ross interrupts.
"Days of Our Lives," Phoebe supplies helpfully.
"Ah."
"Technically, no. You're on Days portraying Jessica Lockhart."
"Who?" Ross interrupts again.
"Yes, but in Drake Ramoray's body," Joey emphasizes.
Ross shakes his head. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Yeah, see after I accepted the part of Drake Ramoray again—"Joey begins, adding another bruise to my shin at my ill-disguised snort, "they wrote another character out of the show. Cecilia Monroe had been on the show for, like, twenty years, and when they killed off her character they gave me her brain!" Joey leans back proudly.
"What? What do you mean 'they gave you her brain'?"
"They performed a brain transplant."
I stifle another snort at Ross' raised eyebrows.
"A brain transplant?" Ross repeats incredulously.
"Yes. It was a highly controversial procedure," Joey adds solemnly. Ross lets out a disbelieving laugh and rubs his eyes.
"So, now, because of this brain 'transplant'"—Ross makes air quotations around the word, "You're a woman."
I smother another snicker with a thinly disguised cough. Joey shoots another evil glare my way.
"No, I play a woman."
"Right."
"Trapped in Drake Ramoray's body," Joey reminds him.
"Right. The brain—" Ross twitches his jaw—"transplant."
"Exactly." Joey nods.
"Hmm." Ross glances at me out of the corner of his eye. This time I don't bother to conceal my smirk.
"Wow. Huh, wow, that's, that's great Joe. I'm really happy for you. Sounds like everything's going pretty well in your life."
"Can't complain," Joey agrees.
"Ooh!" Phoebe exclaims. "Tell him about your role in The Abysmal."
"The what?"
"It's his movie," Phoebe explains.
"You're in a movie?"
"Yeah. Starts shooting in a few months. I'm costarring with Eric Roberts, Julia's brother."
"Julia who?" Ross asks.
"Julia Roberts," Rachel snaps, startling all of us.
"Sorry," Ross offers, shifting a wary eye to Rachel. "Wow. A starring role."
"Yup."
"Can't wait to see it."
"Comes out April 2006."
"I'll be there. Wow, your first feature film."
There's a moment of silence as we all process what's been said in these last few minutes: the promise from Ross, which is optimistic at best and outright overly ambitious at worst. Right now, a promise from Ross doesn't really mean a whole hell of a lot, but at least everybody is polite enough not to say it to his face. Or maybe not. The subsequent pause seems to have slapped a dose of perspective in Ross' face as he realizes he's just made a critical misstep in his plan to bring us all together again. Two missteps, actually.
One, that his promises really aren't worth shit at this point; and two, that he's missed at least one important advancement in Joey's life (and arguably two with his not knowing of Joey's return to Days) and that only serves to remind us that there's even more in each of our respective lives he's missed out on.
"Second, actually," Joey corrects after a short silence, "but, thanks."
There's another lull in conversation, Ross no doubt debating his next topical move-- whether to tackle the subject of Joey's first feature or to move on to other topics.
"So are you still living with Chandler now that you're a successful actor again?"
I shift uncomfortably, wishing Ross hadn't given up so easily on Joey's career. Joey does the same.
"Uh, no. No."
"Ahh. Got your own place again, huh?" Ross smiles knowingly.
"Weeelll," Joey hedges, "kind of." He looks at me for help.
"You get a new roommate again, or did you decide to live by yourself, like a real adult?" Ross asks me, trying to inject a jocular vibe into the conversation.
"Uh, well," I cast about frantically for an answer that won't commit me to the discussion I know I need to have with Ross, "No. No. I got a new roommate."
I look to Monica for help, but she only stares back, uncertain as I am how to broach this uncomfortable topic. Apparently the possible implications of our silent exchange are lost on Ross because he rambles on with more questions.
"Nice guy?"
"Huh?"
"You new roommate. Is he a pretty nice guy?"
"Woman. And yes, she's wonderful." My head whips around to Monica so fast I'm sure I'll feel the effects of whiplash later on tonight. Monica shifts her attention away from Ross for only a second but I understand her intentions.
Dear God. We're finally going to do this.
"Your...roommate is a girl. You're living with a girl?"
"Yeah." I nod, trying to calm my rolling stomach. Where the hell is my drink?
"What, is she hot?"
I look at Monica as though seeking her opinion before turning back to Ross.
"Yeah," I admit.
Monica nudges my ankle with her foot.
"Really? What's she doing living with you then?" Ross smirks at his oh-so-subtle put down. The joke's on him, though, I can't help thinking.
"What does she do?" Ross continues taking a bite of the salad our server just set before him. I quickly down my vodka and ask for another.
"She's a chef," Monica answers boldly, taking a bite out of her own salad.
Ross stops chewing. He eyes me suspiciously as he presents his next question. "So, do I by chance know your roommate?"
Shit. Well, here goes.
"Who knows? They say it's a small world out there." I reply.
"How small?"
"Uh, um, well, you've met Monica, haven't you?"
"My sister?" Ross spews, bits of lettuce and cucumber laying waste to the clean white tablecloth.
"Oh, you do know her? I guess it is a small world after all." I shut up after meeting Ross' glare.
"You're living with my sister?"
"Yeah," I confirm and wait for the next burst of steam from Mt. Ross.
"Did you give up the apartment or did he move in with you?" Ross asks Monica.
She chews on her salad for a little bit as she considers how to answer.
"He moved in initially," she finally says.
"Initially? Wh-wh-what do you mean 'initially'?" Ross looks around at three bent heads studiously munching on their salads before returning to Monica. But instead of waiting for her answer he zeroes in on me.
"Care to elaborate on that, Chandler?"
"Well, I moved out of Joey's and my apartment and moved into Monica's."
"Why?"
That's a loaded question if I ever I heard one.
"Well, you see—"
"Oh, Monica!" Six heads snap up in surprise at the intrusion.
"Hey, Maxine," Monica greets. I recognize Maxine as the coworker friend Monica was talking with earlier.
"Hey, Chandler," she offers a small nod of greeting. "Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I just wanted to say goodbye and wish you good luck. I hope everything goes smoothly these last few months, especially the delivery."
"Oh, thanks Maxine." Yes, thanks Maxine. "Have a great time in Paris. I'll see you in six months."
"I want to see that baby."
"I'll bring him in," Monica promises with a tight smile. Maxine grins and leans down. "Take care of yourself girl," Maxine hugs Mon and directs her next Judas kiss to me.
"You see to it she doesn't work too hard."
"Will do," I manage, very aware of the pair of eyes following every particular word of this conversation, not to mention the three other pairs miserably feigning disinterest.
"Okay. Have fun at Lamaze. Bye guys." Hurricane Maxine waves to the rest of the table.
I'm certain any second now I'm going to pass out or throw up or maybe even spontaneously combust.
"Baby?" Ross echoes. "Lamaze class?"
Another hush falls over our table as Ross waits for someone to explain. Monica sits up as she inhales a deep breath.
She looks at Ross.
"I'm pregnant."