The apartment building loomed, and she smiled up at it. It had been almost two years now, and she still felt a glow about living here, that she had a place that was hers, that made her feel safe and comfortable.
With a well-practiced maneuver, she unlocked the front door and was through it in less than five seconds. Monica leaped up the stairs, feeling unusually exuberant. She turned the corner, slowed, and came to a complete stop in front of her door.
A man was coming out of Chandler's apartment. A gorgeous man. A hunk in every sense of the word. Great body, handsome face, and he saw her and gave her a smile that made her heart race. The man kept smiling at her as Chandler said behind him, "Well okay Jerry, thanks for stopping by."
Jerry. What a neat name. Monica absolutely could not stop the foolish grin that was on her face. "Hi."
"Hey." Jerry's smile was so great, so natural and beautiful, that Monica wanted to look at it for hours. Instead, he moved past her towards the stairs.
Monica looked at Chandler, who seemed surprised by her reaction. She mouthed "Oh my God" at him and he rolled his eyes.
She unlocked her apartment door and Chandler followed her inside. "So," Monica asked brightly, "who was that?"
"Just one of the guys I'm interviewing."
"Ah." Monica nodded. Chandler had been advertising for weeks, and had entertained Monica, Phoebe, and Ross with stories of exactly how unsuitable each person he interviewed was. From personality flaws to ferrets, each potential roommate had a fatal flaw so far. "So tell me that's your new roommate."
"Yeah, right."
"Oh come on!" Monica beamed at him as they sat on the couch. "He's so cute."
"Right, just what I'm looking for. Someone I can walk around with and be referred to as the funny one. Besides, the other guy is much better."
"Much better how?"
"He works. Really works, as a photographer. Jerry's just an out-of-work actor."
"He told you he was out of work?"
"No, but I choose to believe he is."
Monica slapped Chandler on the arm. "What's the real reason?"
"He, he's got a beach house we can use in the summer."
"Jerry?"
"No, the other guy, Eric. How great would that be?"
"Dunno." Monica thought it over, then shrugged. "I guess it would be nice. Just never thought it would be a deciding factor."
"And Jerry's good looks are? I hate to bring it up, but you remember what happened the last time you fell in love with my roommate."
Monica's smile faded. "Point to you. Okay, go with the photographer."
"Glad to have your support."
There was a knocking on the door. Monica frowned, trying to remember the last time someone had actually knocked. She'd gotten so used to Ross and Chandler just coming in whenever they liked. Exchanging a curious glance with Chandler, she stood up and opened the door.
An older man, unkempt, wearing pajamas and bathrobe, glared at her. "You're making too much noise."
Monica blinked. She knew this guy. His name would come to her in a minute. He lived elsewhere in the building. "Mr. Heckles?" When he didn't immediately correct her, she continued on. "We're just talking."
"You're disturbing me. Stop it."
Monica blinked. "We're not making noise, Mr. Heckles."
"Yes you are. You're disturbing my party guests."
Monica frowned at his pajamas. "You're not having a party."
His response was immediate. "I could be having a party."
She didn't know what to say. She looked over at Chandler.
He jumped to his feet, joined her at the door. "Mr. Heckles, we're not making any noise here. If you have a problem, bring it up with Mr. Treeger."
"Treeger makes too much noise climbing the stairs. All day long, up and down the stairs, stomping, stomping, stomping." Mr. Heckles turned and walked back towards the stairs. "Stomp, stomp."
Monica closed the door, her good mood completely washed away. "What was that all about?"
Chandler sighed. "I think he's probably in the early stages of dementia. I saw it happen to my great-uncle."
"Dementia?"
"Alzheimer's, whatever they call it these days." Chandler shook his head. "Not much you can do except try to humor him."
Monica thinned her lips as she walked back to the couch. "Should we tell anyone?"
"Not, not right now." Chandler didn't follow her, instead walking into the kitchen to pour himself some juice. "They might evict him, force him into a home. As long as he can still take care of himself, we should just let him be. Trust me, anything's better than a nursing home. Anything."
Monica grimaced. "Okay, I'll go easy on him."
"Oh, don't do that." Chandler took a sip of his juice. "He just might be eccentric and incredibly annoying."
Monica growled, and only kept herself from throwing a couch pillow at him out of fear he'd spill his juice over it. "Just so long as you're sure the photographer guy is the right guy."
"Whoa, topic switch!" He whipped his head around and grasped it as if it hurt.
"Just returning to the previous subject. You sure after umpteen interviews that photographer guy is it?"
"Did I tell you about the beach house?"
"Yes. So all along you were waiting for someone to provide you with just the right bribe?"
That seemed to bring Chandler up short. He looked out the window thoughtfully. "Okay, so maybe the... the perks meant more to me than really checking out how good a guy he was. But really, he spoke well and... and had an interesting job and... and well, I think I'd enjoy having him as a roommate."
"Well," Monica said resignedly, "I know who I'd enjoy having as a neighbor."
Chandler eyed her for a moment with a smile. "Tell you what, if Photographer Guy doesn't work out after a month, I'll kick him out and invite Actor Guy."
"Deal!" Monica grinned up at him.
They turned on the television after that. Meanwhile, Monica began wondering if Phoebe had some secret hex spell she could cast on Photographer Guy to keep him harmlessly out of the way to make room for Jerry.
.
Monica stepped out of the shower and stretched. She felt relatively cool now, but that was sure to change. It was unseasonably warm for March, and according to Mr. Treeger, the building owners had it written into every lease that the central air conditioning wouldn't be turned on until the first of April at the earliest.
She quickly dried herself off, walked into the bedroom, and changed. It was Friday and she didn't have to work. She needed something to do, though, some plan. She looked around the apartment, trying to decide what projects she could undertake. But she could already feel the heat building, and decided to wait for a more apropos moment.
Maybe she could go visit a museum or something. Or go see a movie. Too bad Chandler was working today, she could have dragged him with her. She smiled to herself, imagining what commentary he would come up with.
Well, there had to be something to do in New York. First step would be checking the paper. Monica walked over towards the front door, opened it, and came to a sudden and complete stop.
It was him. Actor Guy. Jerry. Standing in a tee-shirt and holding a box, one of many that littered the hallway. He turned towards her and Monica couldn't help smiling widely. "Hi again."
"Hey." Jerry grinned, then entered the apartment, passing by Chandler who was dressed for work.
She picked up the paper in a kind of daze as Chandler greeted her with a "Hey".
Monica beamed at him. "Thank you soooo much."
Chandler rolled his eyes. "Don't thank me. Photographer Guy never showed up when he was supposed to move in."
"Oh?" Monica tilted her head, regarding Chandler. "And, and you didn't call him to find out why?"
Chandler shrugged. "I figured if he didn't want to move in, I wasn't going to force him. Besides, it wasn't who you really wanted to move in, was it?"
Monica felt a Phoebe-like smile split her face. "Again, thank you."
Chandler grinned. "Well, I'm off to work. And not just for the money, every once in a while someone walks out of the bathroom with a little bit of toilet paper stuck to their shoe."
Monica giggled with him, finding herself in a mood when even the stupidest jokes seemed funny. Chandler left, and Monica felt her eyes drifting back to the apartment opposite. Jerry came out, flashed another delightful grin, and bent down to pick up a box.
Monica eyed the box. "Need some help with that?"
"Oh, no thanks, I got it." He straightened, then staggered backwards. "No I don't!"
Monica took a step forward, preventing him from falling over backwards. With a grunt he put the box back down. Monica spoke over his shoulder. "Okay?"
"Uh, yeah." Jerry looked flushed. "Just, uh, stood up too quickly, that's all."
"The heat." Monica suddenly discovered that she had a hand on either side of his torso. She had no memory at all of placing them there, and hastily withdrew them. "And, and the humidity."
"Yeah. Tough combination." Jerry looked like he had noticed the touch, too.
Monica floundered about for something to say. "Do you want to come in for some lemonade?"
Jerry responded with enthusiasm. "Like you wouldn't believe."
Monica led him into the apartment. Jerry looked around. "Wow, this is a great place."
"Thanks. Make yourself comfortable." She waved towards the living room as she walked over to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator, took out the pitcher of lemonade. "This place used to be my Grandmother's. She let me have it when she moved to Florida, otherwise I couldn't afford it. So if the landlord ever asks, I'm really an eighty-seven year old woman." She carried the pitcher to the cupboard, took out two glasses. "You thirsty?"
"Oh, you bet I am."
"Okay." Monica filled the glasses nearly to the brim. She set the pitcher down, turned around. "Here's your-"
She stopped. Her mind went into a mild kind of shock, totally unable to process what she saw in front of her, unable to believe that it was real. She stared and stared, and for some reason the image refused to change.
Jerry stood in front of the couch, completely naked, his clothes on the floor around him. His interest, Monica could not help noticing, was definitely aroused.
"Oh my God." Monica fought to keep her voice from screaming and didn't entirely succeed. "What the hell are you doing?"
Jerry blinked. "You asked if I wanted to come in for some lemonade."
"So?"
"Whoa." Jerry seemed completely taken aback. "You were just gonna give me some lemonade?"
"Yeah huh!" Monica felt her arms begin to shake, put the glasses on the kitchen table. "Cover yourself up!"
"Oh, right, yeah." Jerry quickly reached for his pants.
"I don't believe this!" Monica felt some of the fuzz begin to leave her brain. "Someone invites you in for lemonade, and to you that means they wanna have sex?"
"Well, usually." Jerry sounded defensive now. "I mean, sorry, I just, I thought you liked me. I'm such a jerk."
Monica was in no mood to disagree. She turned and took the pitcher from the counter, finally putting her back to him. "Look, Jerry, I don't know what kind of bimbos you've dated, but I'm not one of those. Got it?"
"Uh, yeah."
"When I offer you some lemonade, it's just lemonade. Got that, Jerry?"
"Uh, yeah, got it."
Monica sighed. "I, I don't want us to get totally off on the wrong foot here. I, I suppose this could happen to anyone." She put the lemonade back in the refrigerator, turned around, winced. "I can still see it."
"Oops." Jerry quickly zipped his fly.
Monica thinned her lips. "Look, Chandler's last roommate was a disaster, he and I had a really uncomfortable situation. I don't want to put Chandler through that again. So for his sake, I'm going to try and pretend that you're not a completely oversexed total jerk. But don't ever, ever try to pull something like that on me again."
"I so won't."
"Do we understand each other, Jerry?"
"Yes, ma'am."
He looked so completely abashed and contrite that Monica cut short her lecture by several pages. She wasn't sure whether his hurt-boy expression was cultivated - he was an actor, after all - but she couldn't help being affected by it. He really did seem embarrassed by what happened and eager to make whatever amends he could. Monica sighed and let a lot of her anger drain away. "Get your clothes off the floor and get out of here."
"Yes, ma'am." Jerry scooped up his clothes and more-or-less scuttled away.
Monica sat at the kitchen table, emotionally spent. It had taken her less than fifteen minutes to totally alienate herself from Chandler's new roommate. At least the process had gone much faster than it had with Kip.
Monica shook her head and forced herself to admit that what Jerry had done wasn't nearly as bad as the whole Kip thing. But it was bad enough.
Poor Chandler. His roommates seemed cursed somehow.
Monica sighed and stood up. Deciding the lemonade shouldn't go to waste, she carried both glasses with her into the living and sat on the couch. She turned on the television and began flipping channels, desperately trying to distract herself from the image of Jerry standing naked in her apartment.
.
Monica stood in front of the open refrigerator, mentally waging a fierce debate. On most Saturday nights the four of them went out and did their separate things, but tonight Ross was coming over for dinner, and Phoebe would be here. Chandler would also probably come, but would almost certainly want to bring his new roommate. Whether to fix dinner for everyone or just let them fend for themselves and excuse herself from the apartment was a tough decision. She wasn't quite over the whole lemonade incident but she really should make an effort.
It was just so difficult; no one had ever shocked her quite like that before.
The apartment door burst open. "Hey there, hi there, ho there, you're as welcome as can be."
Monica turned and forced a smile to her lips, and found that it wasn't at all difficult. "Hey there. Your roommate all moved in?"
"Yup!" Chandler shut the apartment door, leaned against the half-wall that separated the front door from the kitchen. "Didn't take long. We spent most of the evening watching television."
"Ah." Monica wasn't sure how to broach the subject of yesterday's naked foray, so temporized with, "So, do you like him?"
"He's great!" Chandler positively glowed. "He showed me aspects of television I never knew existed! We drank beers as he told me about various actresses and their work."
"Oh?" Monica blinked. "Which actresses?"
"Who cares!" Chandler grinned. "They're all so bouncy."
Monica shook her head in amused disgust. "I see. And you consider that a productive evening?"
"Hey, compared to Kip the sleazebag, this was prime entertainment!" Chandler slowed down slightly. "He's really easy to talk to. We gabbed about all sorts of stuff. I never, ever talked to Kip like that. I think he'll fit right in, everyone will like him."
"Everyone?"
"Yes, even Phoebe. I wonder what she'll say about his aura."
Just as well Chandler misunderstood her. Monica had another brief mental debate, then came to a decision. "Well, invite Jerry over to dinner tonight, everyone will be here. We'll get to see him for ourselves."
"Okay. Joey, by the way."
Monica had begun to turn towards the refrigerator again but stopped. "What?"
"His name's Joey."
"But..." Monica shook her head. "But you called him Jerry."
"Did I?" Chandler frowned. "Well, I was wrong then, sorry."
Joey. Monica stared dumbfounded at Chandler for a few seconds. "Uh, send him over for a couple of minutes. I want to make certain he doesn't have any special dietary restrictions before I make dinner. Y'know, cheese allergies or something."
"Sure." Chandler grinned, then left the apartment.
Monica looked down at the floor, then over at the refrigerator, thinking deeply.
A knock came on the door. Monica kept her gaze on the refrigerator as she called out, "It's open."
The sounds of someone entering. The sounds of feet shuffling uncomfortably. "Uh... I, uh... Chandler said... hey, anything you fix, I'll eat. Anything."
Monica turned to face the voice. "Chandler says your name is Joey."
"Uh, yeah, that's right. Joey Tribbiani."
"Joey." Monica tilted her head slightly. "I kept calling you Jerry."
"Uh, yeah, I noticed."
"Why didn't you correct me?"
"Well..." Joey gulped. "You, you were so mad, and, and I had screwed up so badly, I... it... it seemed like the wrong time to bring it up."
Monica stared at him some more. Joey looked increasingly uncomfortable but held her gaze.
"Okay," Monica finally announced. "Okay. So, maybe you do have a little discretion and tact."
"Uh... what?"
"Maybe you truly were sorry about what happened." Her tone was still hard and frosty; Monica forced herself to soften it. "Maybe it really was a miscommunication."
"Listen, I so would not have done that if I hadn't thought you wanted me to." Joey's voice was very close to pleading. "Please believe me."
Something loosened inside of Monica. "I, I do believe you." She walked up to him, held out her hand. "Monica Geller."
Relief bloomed across his features. He shook her hand. "I'm glad to meet you, Monica."
She nodded and withdrew her hand. "Chandler comes over for dinner all the time, and he hangs out with my roommate and my brother. I hope you'll feel comfortable hanging out with us as well."
"I, I'd like that. Chandler talked about you guys last night."
"But understand this: you and I will never date, ever. Chandler is my friend, and he likes you, so I'll try to like you, too. But that's all it will ever be. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"And for God's sake, don't call me ma'am." She smiled. "It's Monica."
"Monica." Joey smiled back, although still a little nervously. "So, do these same rules apply to your roommate?"
God, what a pushy jerk. At the same time, Monica couldn't help feeling a little amused by how quickly he seemed to rebound. "Her name's Phoebe, and I'll let her tell you what the rules are regarding her. Just don't start with the assumption that she wants to have sex with you at first sight, all right?"
"Yes, ma- uh, Monica." Joey's smile was wider now. "See you later for dinner."
"Tell Chandler dinner will be in an hour. But if you guys want to hang out for a while here first, that's fine too. Phoebe should be home any time now, and Ross - my brother - will probably be here in twenty minutes."
"Gotcha." Looking considerably more perky, Joey walked back out the door.
Monica blew out a breath. Wow. That had been an interesting experience. She'd been half-prepared to never talk to the man she knew as Jerry ever again. But when Chandler had spouted such effervescent praise for his new roommate, something had begun to change. If he made Chandler feel that good, then Joey had to be a good guy. Something inside her couldn't stay mad at someone Chandler liked so well.
Joey had helped matters by being open and honest, and Monica appreciated that. There were sterling qualities there, just a little buried beneath a face that was pretty and an ego that knew it just a little too well. Hopefully, with Chandler's help, she could learn to see the good in Joey.
Nodding to herself that the world was now a little better defined than it had been a while ago, Monica turned to the task of fixing dinner.
(to be continued)