January 1977 – The Waldorf Astoria Hotel, NYC

Angela's head rested on Michael's chest. She kept still, but her gaze moved to the waning outside light at the window. It looked cold, and made the warmth she felt beneath the half of her that was sprawled over him especially welcome.

She was afraid to move. She noticed the ticking on the wall, and saw they must've spent the last couple hours in an exhausted release. There was nowhere else she wanted to be, and didn't want to do anything to break the spell.

He was so careful. The whole time. I know it wasn't either of our intentions to start anything big, but after this, how can it not be?

Angela stayed awake, wanting to fully appreciate the comfort, if even for just the moment. Finally, she saw his hand move to rub her upper arm, and she closed her eyes tightly in grief. It's over. She exhaled her resolve. At least I got to have it for a while. It was just right.

"Hey, beautiful," she said in a throaty voice, smiling up at him. He chuckled softly.

"Mmm - that is a nice way to wake up." He looked down at her cautiously. "How you holdin' up?"

Ugh! I hate that he thinks he needs to take care of me, but I love that he wanted to…That he did. She answered softly, "Really well. This was just perfect. Thanks."

He didn't move, but kept looking at her. After a few seconds, he asked, "You're not leaving me now, are you? After that?"

She continued to hold eye contact, and a smile slowly appeared on her previously solemn face. "No," she said with a little shake to her head. His body relaxed beneath her, and she put her head back on his chest.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the only sounds in the room being the clock and their breathing. Michael spoke first. "Hey, so, I have the room one more night, can you stay again?"

Angela was a little confused as to what his question meant. Was he simply asking about her plans for tonight? Or was he implying that his previous question was referring to her not leaving just yet, but presumably soon? Crap. I wish I was at work. I could just clarify. Still not ready to let down her guard, she decided to take things as they came.

She propped up on one elbow to look at him. "Yeah, that sounds nice. But I'm gonna need to run home for more clothes." She saw the dude remark that was about to escape him, and put two fingers to his lips. She smiled at him playfully. "I want my clothes. And a hair tie."

Michael's brows rose and fell in good-natured acquiescence, and he folded both his arms contentedly behind his head again.

"I should head out, soon. Don't want a cab ride alone at night," she smirked, crawling over him to get out of bed. Walking toward the bathroom, she spoke over her shoulder, "I'm getting your money's worth out of this shower."

He smiled an impish smile, and climbed out quickly after her. "Not yet, you haven't!"

January 1977 – Bronx, NY

They took a cab to where her car was parked. "I'm glad it was a weekend," she said. "My car really hasn't been on my mind recently."

"Good," Michael grinned. "And thanks for letting me tag along. It woulda been hella quiet around there without you."

She smiled back. I know the feeling. They got in the car, and started the drive toward Cos Cob.

"So, how'd you end up at the Catcall?" he asked, passing the time.

"Yellow pages," she braved a sheepish glance at him. He laughed and shook his head.

"You really are a trip."

"Well, why were you there? A personal invite from KISS?"

"No - Tim, my cameraman? I was moping around the studio last night, and he brought me along."

"No plans?"

"It was kind of a quiet night, but I don't hang out with a lot of people."

"Family?"

His jaw twitched, and he looked out the window. "My parents had spent the holidays with my little brother…I really am restless at home. That's why I can't wait to get back into the field."

Angela nodded slowly. "I didn't grow up being close with my mother, either."

He looked over at her. "Yeah, I went to a boarding school in Illinois for high school, and I think I saw my parents more during those years than the ones before." He shrugged.

She nodded, understanding. "I spent most of my high school in a boarding school, too. I liked it, but I don't think I would've been closer to my mother if I were at home, either."

He gave her a compassionate smile. "Yeah, mostly mine was fine, too. But sometimes it just catches up with you, ya know?"

"Yeah'" she sighed. "I do."

"So, what's with your parents?"

"My father died when I was 14, and my mother didn't know how to handle it. So, I did…and my friends. She says she felt guilty about it, and that's why she stayed away from me so much." She looked over at him. "But it still felt like shit."

Michael gave a mirthless laugh. "At least she felt guilty. My parents are blissfully unaware at my brother's house right now." She didn't say anything, and he recalculated. "I'm sorry. That still sounds like shit."

She smiled at him sadly. "Yeah…I'm glad we're a lot closer now."

"How'd that happen?"

She smiled, "We yelled at each other a few years ago. It seemed to help get the wheels turning at least. Get stuff out."

He looked over at her for a few seconds, but didn't say anything. She stared out ahead of her, not knowing how to make it better for him. He turned to look ahead.

"My parents aren't really the yelling type. Honestly, I don't even know if they're worth the trouble."

She looked over at his quiet expression. Returning her gaze to the windshield, she took her right hand off the steering wheel, and reached up to stroke the back of his neck.

January 1977 – Cos Cob, CT

As they turned off of the interstate, Michael spoke up cautiously. "So…what did you tell your mother last night?"

Angela smiled widely, but kept looking at the road. "I just told her I was staying in the city. But if you knew my mother, you'd know she'd be hoping for a bit more of a twist."

His eyebrows rose, "Really." He laughed. "Okay."

They pulled up to her house, and got out. Walking in the door, Angela called, "Mother?"

"In the kitchen!"

Michael followed Angela through the family room into the kitchen. Mona looked up from her magazine at the two of them, and her mouth dropped open just a tad.

"Hello," Mona said to Michael, then smiled ruefully at her daughter. "Happy New Year."

Angela stared her mother down to normal. "Mother, this is Michael Bower. Michael, this is my mother, Mona Robinson."

"Nice to meet you," Michael smiled broadly, and held out his hand. Mona looked him in the eye, and then shook his hand.

"And you."

"How was your New Year's, Mother?" Angela asked.

"Spectacular," she smiled knowingly at her daughter. Angela shut her eyes, and held them closed for a couple seconds.

"Did you catch any fireworks?" Michael asked Mona. Angela shook her head to herself.

"Nope," Mona said straight-faced.

Michael bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

Angela piped up. "Well, I'm just in and out, Mother." Angela looked at Michael and touched his arm, and smiled warmly, "I'll be right back." She eyed her mother as she turned to jog down the hall.

Mona kept a keen eye on her daughter until she disappeared. Then she turned to Michael. "So, Michael did you have a spectacular New Year's, too?"

Michael's eyes widened before he could adjust to her candor. After a taking a couple seconds to regroup, he managed to get out, "I had a very nice time." But he wasn't sure his voice held.

She paused, then tilted her head. "And are you just in and out, too?"

He blinked.

"See, I can see the benefit of that. But Angela? I don't know. You'd have to ask her." She stepped up to him. "And I would ask her."

"Ask me what?" Angela said walking quickly in to the room with her gym bag slung over her shoulder.

"Not everything is about you, dear," Mona said with a wave of her hand.

Angela's eyes narrowed at her mother. "Was this?"

Mona stepped up to her daughter and patted her cheek. "Have a wonderful time, dear." Then she spun around, eyeing Michael before she walked off.

January 1977 – I95

Angela looked over at Michael's shadowed face as they drove down the interstate that night. What did mother say to him?

"Are you okay? You seem far away."

His face softened a bit. "Yeah." He paused a few moments. "Hey, so what are you thinking, about this-" he motioned between the two of them, "us?"

"Well, I'm…what?" Angela started to breathe faster.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I mean, I went into the club last night trying to have a better time than I could have spinning sprockets. You, were," he paused, and glanced at her nervously, "…just trying to get away for bit. And then…"

"And then?" she prodded hopefully.

He paused. "Well, what happened for you?" Michael said, deciding to counter.

Angela sighed and paused, herself. "I fell apart," she looked over at him, and spoke seriously. "And you stuck around."

He smiled at her. "Yeah." He reached over and put his hand on her thigh. She readjusted her eyes, and tried to focus intently on the road. "So, we're good?" Michael asked.

"Absolutely," she answered, trying to steady everything. She wasn't exactly sure if she was brave enough to push him, and, with the warmth of his hand on her thigh, she could breathe. They drove for a bit longer, but when they reached the NY state line, she felt steady enough to ask him.

"Michael…what did my mother say?"

He shook his head, and rolled his eyes. "It's all good, Angela. She wants to make sure we're on the same page. Whatever." He looked over at her, and shrugged. "And I think we are, anyway."

What page is that? She wasn't exactly sure how to round this smoothly, and further delay made it increasingly bumpy. She was dying to employ some of her negotiation skills; she knew how these things worked. You can't run a business afraid of the truth of where the other party is at. But this was her costliest deal to date, and it took more umph. She geared up, "…Yeah, I mean, I think we both weren't out looking for anything serious last night, but…," she couldn't help but look at his face, "this…meant a lot to me." She saw his face soften. "If it were up to me…," breathe, "I'd hope you're not ready to let go yet."

Michael let out a quick laugh of relief, "Are you kidding? We can't quit yet…That was intense." He shuddered pleasurably, remembering, and squeezed her thigh.

She exhaled purposefully in a steady stream out her mouth. He looked amused, but steadied his gaze on the road in front of them.

Wait - what does that mean?

Fed up with the stunted abilities of her personal reserve, Angela yanked on her business self. "So, are we giving this a real try, or are we just having fun for a while?" He looked somewhat stunned, so she continued more softly. "I'd just really like to know."

The surprise on his face seemed to turn toward irritation, and he removed his hand. "Look, I left the room with you today, having a great time, and not wanting it to stop. I really didn't have much more of our "future" planned out."

Angela could feel tears starting, and looked straight ahead. All of a sudden, she was back in her girl group in school, wanting them more than they wanted her. She felt the fear of being voted out hot on her heels. She hated this feeling - overstaying her welcome, and shucked it as fast as she could.

But her voice came out a little wavery as she said, "Yeah, yeah I know. Me, too." Trying to sound more credible, Angela expounded. "I mean, this has been…amazing, but yeah, let's just see how it goes?" Back into the gray…It's not like I asked you to come "meet my mother" anyway. You were lonely, and wanted to come. But whatever… Wait. Mother. Angela cleared her throat, and spoke carefully. "Hey, I'm sorry if my mother threw you. She's always been pretty…sassy."

He was looking at her skeptically, but softened as he waited to respond. "Don't worry about it," he said, shrugging. "Parents don't really like me."

Great.

Angela looked over at him and tried to smile, which he returned. Not knowing what else to do, Angela reached over and took his hand. She loosened her initial hold, and stroked the top of his hand with her thumb.