Chapter 24: Respect the Stilettos

Chuck Finster's fingers gripped the set of keys in his pants' pocket. Though he couldn't see his knuckles, he felt reasonably sure that they were white, given how tightly he was clutching his keys. And though he stared straight ahead at the door of his apartment, with its chipped brown paint and broken knocker, he could feel the eyes of Angelica Pickles boring into him. There was a time, years ago, when such rapt attention from Angelica would have filled him with stark terror. Now, he still felt nervous. But he also felt … exhilaration.

"Welcome home," said Angelica.

Chuck's hand started trembling, which caused the keys to jangle softly. This was it. This was good-night, good-bye, good luck and farewell. Surely what had happened in the hospital was a fluke, and now they would part ways and go back to how things were. "Thanks," he said, sounding oddly calm to his own ears. "For everything."

Suddenly her hand gripped his wrist, and Chuck glanced over. "Your keys were driving me nuts," she muttered by way of explanation, her eyes not meeting his.

"Oh. Sorry."

Angelica let go of his wrist, to Chuck's disappointment. "I guess I better get going, since you look like you're doing pretty well," she said. "Shouldn't be a long cab ride. Might ruin Susie's little romantic evening with Philly, but c'est la vie, non?"

With that Angelica turned away. She began down the stairs, her long blonde hair shining under the hallway lights. Chuck watched mutely as she walked away, racking his brain for something—anything—to make her stay. It was now or never time.

"Wait."

She paused and looked up at him. Her blue eyes were deep enough that a man could drown in them. He couldn't tell whether she looked annoyed or merely expectant.

Licking his dry lips, he took a deep breath before continuing. He had to say the right thing. "You never had time to get a new pack of cigarettes," he pointed out, almost immediately concluding that this was not the right thing to say when she cocked an eyebrow at him. But he pressed bravely onward. "Would you like to come in for a cigarette? One for the road, so to speak?"

"Smokers' code?" There was a hint of mockery in her voice.

"Yes. Smokers' code."

She shrugged and began heading back up the stairs. "Sure. Why not?"

Turning around to hide his smile, Chuck took out his keys and quickly unlocked his apartment door. He pulled out his lighter and cigarette pack, leading Angelica out to his balcony where there were a couple of plastic lawn chairs. They sat smoking in silence for a few minutes, watching the curls of smoke drift upward and disappear into the dark night sky.

Angelica was the first to speak. "I guess I should start by apologizing. For all that crap when we were kids. Being so mean and selfish." She sighed, rolling her cigarette back and forth between her thumb and index finger. "I know I was part of all that standard rich kid bullshit. Feeling ignored by my overworking parents, therefore overcompensating with egotism. Guilty parents overcompensating by lavishing me with material possessions, therefore spoiling me. Blah, blah, blah."

Chuck nodded, saying, "Yeah. That sounds about right."

For a second Angelica glared at him before chuckling wryly. Then she flicked her cigarette over the balcony edge and turned to him. "Chuck," she said in a quiet voice, "what made you say that I'm amazing?"

Chuck blinked in surprise as he flicked his own butt over the balcony. "Huh?"

"Back in the hospital you said, and I quote, that I was the most amazing woman you had ever known. So why'd you say that? Just trying to get in my pants?"

"Of course not!"

She raised an eyebrow. "So you don't want in my pants? I'm not good-looking enough for you?"

Chuck blushed furiously.

The problem with Angelica Pickles—well, one of the problems—was that he could never tell when she was being serious and when she wasn't. He decided it was best to assume she was being serious. "I said what I said," he replied, "because it's true."

Angelica snorted.

"You are amazing," he asserted, smiling a little. "Taking down a guy almost twice your size, while wearing high heels? If that's not amazing, I don't know what is."

She mulled that over for a few moments. "Stilettos," she said finally.

"Pardon?"

"They aren't just high heels, they're stilettos." A slow playful smile spread across her face.

So she wasn't serious. Oh, thank goodness. Chuck leaned forward, his chair creaking a little at his shifting weight. "My apologies for the mistake," he said, with just a touch of laughter in his voice. "Tell me, Angie, how can I make it up to you?"

Her smile turned seductive. "Oh, don't worry. I'll think of something," she murmured, right before grabbing a handful of his shirt and pulling him into a long, deep kiss.

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Author's Notes: Here's another chapter, and a Chuck/Angie chapter to boot, as an apology for my tardiness. Only one more chapter to go, then this story's over! Whew. Thanks for reading!