The Night Out

Chandler tentatively glanced around the nightclub and grimaced. Although he knew that no one was looking at him, he still felt phantom eyes burning through his skull with a judgmental stare. Ever since he walked in the door, he could not shake the feeling that he was thirteen again, and about to suffer a socially crippling public humiliation. Much like he had in high school, thanks to his father's embarrassing antics in front of his classmates, putting a target on his back and labeling him a pariah for the next four years of his life. He started to anxiously fidget in his seat as he hunched over to obscure his face, almost as if he were afraid to been seen. He ducked his head and his leg bounced rapidly up and down. A nervous tic that he was unaware was on display.

Monica, feeling the vibrations from under the table, looked over at him with sympathetic eyes. She pulled her wrap over her shoulders and then reached out and placed her hand on his arm. She slid it down and caressed his forearm softly, giving light, reassuring squeezes the entire time. She pulled her hand back up and wrapped her fingers around his bicep. She took her other hand and clasped them together tightly on his arm, and when he turned to look at her, she smiled, and the warmth from her curled lips and friendly blue eyes seemed to soothe him as his body started to go quiet. She leaned her head on his arm and gave him another gentle squeeze.

"Hey. It's going to be okay."

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But I'm not going anywhere, okay? We're in this together."

Chandler leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head. "Thanks."

Monica looked down and felt her cheeks flush red. The sincerity and vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver across her shoulders. She squeezed his arm tighter and leaned in close to him.

"What do you think you're going to say to him?"

"Well, if I'm lucky, he won't recognize me, and then I won't have to say anything."

"Chandler!"

"To be honest? I don't know. I haven't talked to him in about four years."

"What!"

"Shh!" Chandler looked around the room quickly to see if they were overheard.

"Four years?" Monica loosened her grip on his arm and began to untangle herself from him so she could shift in her seat and face him. "Chandler. That's terrible."

He reluctantly nodded in agreement and grabbed his beer to take a swig. "I know. You're right. It just, well, with both my parents, it was never easy. My mom and dad, they didn't exactly take an interest in me when I was growing up. Not like you and Ross had with your parents."

Monica scoffed. "You think I have it easy with my parents? Hello, if they aren't pestering me about my job, or getting married or having babies then they're mad at me for dating a friend of theirs who's twenty years older than me."

"Well, they may have a point with that last one. Little creepy."

Monica chuckled and slapped his shoulder. "Hey!"

Chandler gestured his surrender with his hands. "Not for you, but, you know, I could see why maybe your dad was uncomfortable about it. I know you say they give you a hard time, but they eventually supported you and Richard. That sounds like pretty good parents to me."

Monica shook her head. "This is supposed to be about you and your dad."

Before she could continue, the lights started to dim, and the room was filled with the sound of a flourish across piano keys.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome, the incomparable, Helena Handbasket!"

A spotlight fell onto the stage as a tall, full figured woman sitting on top of a piano spun around to face the audience. The sequins on her dress caught the light, making her sparkle and appear almost magical. She smiled as the piano reached a crescendo and the room fell silent, only for a moment, until the audience erupted in wild applause.

"And there's daddy."

"You can't be serious."

Helena led Chandler and Monica towards a booth located in a secluded dark corner of the club. She glided into her seat and settled herself on one side of the table. She shifted over a bit and gestured for Monica and Chandler to join her. She then made eye contact with a waitress and signaled for her to bring them a round of drinks.

Monica gingerly climbed in on the other side of the booth. Chandler put his hand on the small of her back to support her as she worked her way over. She then took his hand as he sat down next to her. The two of them sat very close, their shoulders seemed almost fused together as they huddled themselves across from Chandler's father. Monica looked over at Chandler as he smiled nervously. She could see the wheels in his head spinning as he tried to figure out what to say.

"What a wonderful surprise to see you here. I wish you called ahead; I would have gotten you a good seat for the show. What brings you two to Vegas?"

Monica smiled as she pressed her leg against Chandler's underneath the table, worried his nervous energy might take over and have him tap his foot or bounce his leg again.

"Well, Mr. Bing, u, Mrs. Bing? I'm sorry, I'm new to all of this. What should I call you?"

Chandler's father chuckled and leaned forward. "It's fine honey. Please, call me Helena."

"Well, uh, Helena, I had this crazy idea to go to Las Vegas, very last minute, and when Chandler mentioned you worked out here, well, we just had to say hello." Monica looked over at Chandler and gently nudged him. "Right Chandler?"

"What? Oh. Yes. Just wanted to catch up."

"Well, I'm so glad you did. Do you know how long it has been since I actually got to have a conversation with this boy that was longer than three minutes?"

Monica looked at Chandler and smirked. "I'm going to say, four years?"

Helena chuckled, amused by Monica's apparent teasing of her son. "Ha. Yes. About that long."

Two servers approached the table. One of them had a tray of drinks. They both seemed giddy as they smiled at Helena and Chandler.

"Helena, is this your son you keep telling us about?"

"Yes. This is my Chandler."

"Wow, big city lawyer, right?"

Chandler wrinkled his brow and glanced at his father. "Uh, no…."

The other waitress shook her head as she placed the drinks on the table. "No, that's right, you're a CPA."

Chandler looked back and forth between Monica and the two servers. "Uh…"

"Dentist?"

"No." Chandler looked at his father, slightly confused by what was going on.

Helena shrugged her shoulders. "I'm sorry dear. I really don't know what you do."

Monica slipped her hand around Chandler's arm and gave him a light pat on his back. "Oh, don't feel bad. None of us really do."

"So how long have you been here?"

Monica looked up as she did a quick count in her head. "Four days?"

"Oh." Helena looked down for a moment.

Chandler reached out a hand and gestured at his father. "No, it wasn't like that. The first day we got here so late, then we gambled, did some sight-seeing, went shopping, and then came here tonight."

"Oh, I guess you wanted to surprise me."

Monica and Chandler shared a glance and then both nodded, almost simultaneously. Chandler took a sip from his beer and then stood up. Monica shot him a worried look and he gestured to her, signaling everything was okay.

"I just have to use the bathroom." He looked over at his father and raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Now, is there a men's room here or do I just…."

Helena chuckled at leaned over to signal for one of the waitstaff to come over. "Why don't you let one of my girls show you where it is." The server walked over and Helena smiled. "Would you mind taking care of my son?"

"With pleasure. Hello tall, dark and handsome."

Chandler looked over at Monica nervously.

"Not like that Tandy. He just needs to find the bathroom. All this is very confusing for him."

Tandy grabbed Chandler by the arm and started to lead him away. "Well, the night is still young. Maybe I can help, un-confuse you sexy."

Chandler glanced at his father over his shoulder, but then sharply faced forward as he was led away from the table. Monica watched them until they slipped from view and tried to stifle a laugh by covering her mouth.

"Wow. As I live and breathe. Chandler. In my club. In a good mood." Helena turned to face Monica. "This was all you, wasn't it?"

Monica looked back at Helena with a hint of surprise in her eyes. "What?"

"You can tell me. I know this makes him uncomfortable."

Monica shrugged her shoulders. "I guess. I think maybe it isn't so much this place as it is you."

"What do you mean?"

"Whenever Chandler talks about you, it's normally just a joke about how you embarrassed him when he was younger."

Helena bit her lip. "He still can't accept me for who I am?"

"Oh no. I don't think it's that. It's just, well, it seems like he was really young when you first started, uh, being you, and I think he just didn't understand it. Did you ever talk to him about it?"

"I tried."

"Look. I don't want to step out of bounds, but it just sounds like, from what he says, you just showed up like this and didn't give him time to adjust."

Helena paused for a moment and sighed. "You know, he was a very serious little boy. Even when he was a young teenager, he put so much stress on himself. He had no sense of humor. You couldn't joke about anything. I was really worried about him."

"Are we talking about the same Chandler?"

Helena chuckled and took a sip of her drink. "I remember being back in New York, and I tried to visit him, but he said he was out of town for a conference or something, but, I just felt like, maybe he was avoiding me."

"Oh, I'm sure he wasn't."

"Then, I went to Nora's apartment, just to talk to her about him, and I found an old yearbook of his from school, and there was this picture of him with the custodian in class. It was for career day or parent's day, and neither of us showed up. I just started to fear, maybe we turned him into this somber little malcontent."

Monica allowed a sad smile to cross her lips. "Oh, well no, you don't have to worry about that. Chandler is actually very nice, and he can even be charming."

"Really?"

"When he isn't being a jerk."

"Ha, ha. Well, that's just men darling."

Monica nodded in agreement. "No, Chandler, he, well, he is really funny, and he takes care of his friends. He's a good guy. He's a good man."

"That's good to hear. You know doubt have something to do with that."

"Oh?"

"While I was on stage, I watched the two of you, and, I don't know if I ever saw him smile like that. He seemed so at ease and comfortable, and you both laughed together. I never saw that side of him. How long have you two known each other?"

Monica started to play with the straw in her drink and swirled it around before taking a sip. "I think, well, it'll probably be ten years next Thanksgiving. Although, we didn't really see each other every day until about five or six year ago."

"You have been together for six years and I am just meeting you now?"

Monica's eyes went wide as she sat up straight. "What?"

"What?"

Monica laughed defensively and shook her head. "Oh, no, we aren't, uh, we're not together."

"Really? I mean, you look so…uh…oh damn. I hope I didn't put you on the spot."

"What? Oh no, it's just, we're good friends."

"I'm sorry, it's just the way you both talk to each other, touch each other, sit close together, it just looked like something else."

"Oh, don't get me wrong." Monica turned her head for a moment and caught sight of Chandler by the bar being accosted by three of Helena's performers. Her shoulders relaxed as she let loose with a chuckle. "He looks like he is in trouble."

Helena turned to look. "Oh, those three are harmless. They probably just want to meet my son. I talk about him all the time to them. My boy, making it on his own in New York City."

Monica smiled and looked at Chandler again, her skin felt hot as she watched him.

Helena pointed at Monica sharply. "See, that."

"What?"

"The way you are looking at him. Anyone would think you two are together. Why aren't you together? Is there something wrong with him?"

"What? No, no. Your son, he's…he's great. He's sweet, and he's smart, and I love him. But we are just good friends."

Helena sat back and smirked. "Seems like a waste of two attractive people who care a lot about each other, but it's none of my business."

Before Monica could say something, Chandler stepped over and deposited three shots down on the table.

"Hey, dad, these are compliments of, and let me see if I get this right, Honey, Millie, and Candy Graham."

"Ah yes, the Graham girls. They do a wonderful rendition of 'Dancing Queen'. You should stay to watch. They can do all the harmonies."

Chandler looked at Monica, who seemed a bit self-conscious as she fidgeted in her seat and pulled her wrap around her shoulders tightly.

"What, uh, what have you two been talking about."

Helena smiled. "You. And what a bright young handsome man you seem to be."

Chandler took up a shot glass and sniffed at it. "You're obviously drunk. What is in these?"

"Didn't I tell you they were good?"

Monica applauded enthusiastically and nodded. "That was so much fun!"

Chandler winced but nodded begrudgingly in agreement. Monica seemed to still sway to the music that had stopped playing but was living inside her body like an electric pulse, forcing her to continue moving to the infectious beat that had been imprinted on her brain. Helena watched her for a few moments and then noticed a sheepish smile spread across her lips when Chandler caught her eye.

"Well, I guess Gloria Estefan is right; the rhythm is going to get you."

Monica stared at him and forced herself to suppress a smile so as not to encourage him, but he waited her out, and soon enough, her lips gave way to a sweet smile. Chandler gave her a light nudge and chuckled to himself as he looked back out towards the stage.

Helena cleared her throat and then signaled to a waitress to bring them another round of drinks. "So, what are you kids going to do for the rest of the evening."

Chandler looked at Monica and then back to his father. "Oh, well, we had a nice dinner, came here and saw you, I thought we'd just go back to the hotel and call it a night."

Helena allowed a sly smile to spread across her lips. "Oh, but the night is still so young. Vegas nightlife is exciting after all. You don't want to go to bed now."

The drinks seemed to arrive by magic as another glass appeared before Chandler. Helena smiled at her two guests and encouraged them to both take another drink.

Chandler sipped his down and then exaggerated a cough as he brought his fist to his chest. "Ouch. Tequila?"

Helena shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe. Oh I know, you should take Monica out dancing."

Monica's eyes lit up at Helena's suggestion and Chandler looked at her, flashing her a defensive smile.

"Really? You want to go dancing?"

Monica shrank into her shoulders, slightly embarrassed by her enthusiasm. "Oh, I don't know."

Helena pointed at her and laughed. "Yes she does, look at her, she wants to go dancing so badly she is almost about to burst!"

Chandler dropped his head in defeat. "Do you?"

Monica nodded and smiled excitedly. "Yeah. That Abba can really make a girl want to shake her Assa."

"We should probably let me handle the jokes for the rest of the night."

Monica frowned and mocked Chandler's tone.

"Are you sure, because, when I dance, I look like this." Chandler stood up and began to bounce back and forth with his hands up, balled in fist. His arms were bent at the elbow and he shook them, absent any sense of rhythm, in the air. He stopped and then looked down at her. "I'm just going to embarrass you."

"Chandler, as long as we're having fun you could never embarrass me."

Chandler gave her a skeptical look.

"Okay you can easily embarrass me. But you are the only person I know here in Vegas, so, you're it."

"Oh don't be so modest son, you're a fine dancer."

Monica sharply turned to face Helena. "What?"

"Why yes dear, do you remember my rendition of 'It's Raining Men'? Chandler used to have the part of the second dancer on the left."

"In the little shorts?"

"And hat."

Monica clasped her hands together and smiled wide. "Oh my. Thank you so much for this."

"Thanks Dad." Chandler smiled, despite himself and then looked at Monica and nodded. "Okay. Let's go dancing. I think there's a House of Blues in the casino."

Helena twisted her face up in disgust. "House of Blues? What are you? A tourist? Have another drink and I'll have Shirley get you a car and send you somewhere nice."

"Okay, but if Shirley thinks I'm a stockbroker or something…"

"No, no, no. Now that you told us I will definitely remember what you do."

Monica nodded along. "Yes."

Chandler looked at the two of them as he raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You both forgot already, haven't you?"

Chandler brought two drinks over and placed one in front of Monica. He smiled as she snatched it up and took a swig. He let his eyes travel along the stage and nodded as he read the name of the band off of the bass drum.

"Hey, Swing Kings. I love swing music."

Monica wrinkled her brow in suspicion. "Since when?"

"Since forever. I would go see bands all over town…"

"Chandler?"

Fine. Gap commercial."

Monica laughed as she watched him look around the room. She played with the thin straw from the drink with her teeth and let her eyes travel down his neck to his chest. He had somehow let another button open on his shirt and she could see his skin underneath. The lines of his collarbone seemed to point downward, enticing her eyes to linger. She noticed how his chest was smooth, and she wondered how warm it would feel against her cheek. Monica then quickly shook her head and looked down at her drink. Helena and too much tequila was making her mind play trick on her. She pushed the drink back on the table and spun around as she heard the band make their entrance.

The music started, and it was frenetic and catchy, and it made Monica smile as her body started to move to the beat. Suddenly, she felt alive again.

Chandler turned to face her and smiled. "Maybe we're overdressed."

Monica scoffed. "No, I like being dressed up."

"You think they have food here? I could go for some mozzarella sticks."

"Ugh."

"What? No good."

Monica stretched her hand out and beckoned him to her. "Dance with me."

Chandler watched her, her lips curled up, her hair slightly tussled and falling over one eye. Her alabaster skin kissed with honey. The dress she bought, hugging every curve of her body as if it were made specifically for her. Her hips rocked side-to-side and she had a look on her face as if she could do anything. It was infectious. He shook his head and reached out, taking her hand in his as she led him onto the dance floor.

The tempo changed by the fourth song, and slowed down to an easy, waltz of a ballad. Chandler smiled and gestured with his head towards the table, but Monica pulled him to her and placed her hands around him and up along his back. He wrapped his arms around her, and she rested her head on his chest as they swayed slowly to the music.

Monica felt safe, comfortable. It was as if she could fall asleep there in his arms swaying to the music. She might have done just that if the vibrations from his voice, resonating through his chest, hadn't caught her attention.

"Thanks for making me do this."

She smiled against him, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Thanks for taking me dancing. For being here with me this week."

Chandler pulled her into him tighter, almost on instinct. He could smell her hair, and it was intoxicating. He thought to himself, that if this was the last thing he ever did with his life, dance with Monica and make her happy, then he would be okay with that.

Chandler closed the door to their hotel room behind him and walked past Monica as she stopped in the middle of the room. She slumped her shoulders slightly as she looked at herself in the mirror.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"No." Monica turned and brought her fingers to her neck. "I'll never be like those other women who were there tonight. They were all so tall, with their long legs and perfect necks."

"Perfect necks? That's a thing?"

"They're all so flawless."

"Monica…what? Are you crazy?"

Monica turned to face him, she had already started to come down from the rush she felt when they were dancing, and now the alcohol was taking effect, sending her into a spiral of self-critical depression. Her face was almost sullen as she looked to him to explain himself.

"Mon. You were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight."

"Really?"

"Are you kidding, you're the most beautiful woman in most rooms…"

Before he could finish, she was on top of him. Her arms wrapped themselves tightly around his neck as her lips crashed on to his. He had to hold them steady as the sheer force of her body colliding with his almost knocked him backwards. She deepened their kiss, and for a moment she thought of how odd it was not to feel strange kissing one of her best friends. It felt right, it felt like something she should have been doing for a long time.

She wasn't sure what was going to happen next, but she was ready to let Las Vegas work its magic on them, even if just for tonight. After all, like his father said, they were two attractive people who cared a lot about each other. It would be a waste not to take advantage of this moment.