January 1977 - NYC
Michael flipped on the light as they walked into the room. Angela slung her duffel to the ground by the dresser, and slipped out of her overcoat. She'd just started to bend down to put some clothes in the drawers, when she glanced at him frozen, looking at her. Great. Now he's thinking I want to move in… She scratched the back of her bare leg, and stood upright again. You know, some people just don't like wrinkles. She stretched, and took a couple aimless steps.
"I'm actually gonna change," she said, pointing at her bag. Why does everything feel so stuffy in here? Michael nodded, and Angela walked into the bathroom withher stuff. When did this become him doing me a favor? She shut the door. And why am I changing in the bathroom?
She came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and saw Michael sitting on the couch, looking pensive, with one arm up on the back. She walked softly up to him. With her head tilted a little to the side, she asked, "Mind if I join you?"
He looked up at her in her black satin, cami night slip, and laughed. "Damn." Angela was horrified, and looked down at herself.
Do I look bad?
"Hello, Femme Fatale," he said, holding his other arm out to her. She sat tentatively down next to him, but let him pull her close. At her hesitation, he frowned a little. "What's wrong."
"I guess now I'm a little confused," she said honestly. "…Do you still want me here?"
Michael sighed, and looked away. "Of course, I still want you here. I just – I guess, I got a little weirded out before."
Angela nodded, "With our 'future'?" she said pointedly. She looked down and away from him, the memory still stinging.
"I'm sorry I was being a jerk. I was just caught off guard by your question. Can we just both agree this whole thing was unexpected, but good? And just take it as it comes?" He said with raised eyebrows. She looked hopefully back up at his face. "I've really liked how that's worked out for us so far," he said, lightly playing with the spaghetti strap on her shoulder.
I am so confused, but… Angela looked intently into those brown eyes of his. I'm not sure I don't want to be.
She snuggled into his shoulder, and put her head on his chest. "Me, too."
He squeezed her shoulder, and smiled. They both sat on the couch, fairly comfortable, but after a few minutes, the silence became increasingly awkward. Finally, Angela sat up, and turned toward him.
"What do you like to do?" She laughed at the smirk forming on his face. "I mean, what else?"
His smile relaxed into contentment, "I dunno. I guess I exercise a lot."
She smiled wryly, and traced her finger up and down his thin sweater. "Yeah…what else?"
He thought for a second, smiling at her. "I like to eat. I don't really like crowds. I like to get away from people - get outside." She nodded slowly.
"Movies?"
He shrugged, "To pass the time."
She nodded, her chin slanted in thought.
"Cards?"
"Yeah," he said brightly. "The crew and I play a lot of poker when we're out in the field." He laughed. "We have a deal that we only play with what we have on hand. But we're out there for months, so the collateral soon goes from money to dares. …I didn't dive off of Victoria Falls because I wanted to." He shrugged, "But dues is dues."
She tipped a wry smile, shaking her head at his grammar. "Indeed."
Michael got up and went to the desk drawer for the deck. Turning back to her, she looked up at him. "So how do you play this game?"
He grinned.
"Ya heard me," Angela said straight-faced, downing her third beer.
She put her two pairs daintily on the table, and slipped on some leggings and a sweater. Michael let out an exaggerated sigh, and they walked to the sundry shop three floors down. "You're like a teenager, you know that?" Michael huffed.
"I didn't get to do this stuff when I was a teenager."
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Michael said as he untied the robe over his pajama bottoms, and exhaled decisively as he entered the shop separately from Angela. After having shopped for less than a minute, Michael went to ring up his item. Angela stood covertly by the greeting cards, smirking peripherally at the scene. The clerk kept glancing at Michael's chest, clearly trying not to laugh.
"Here's your change, sir. Enjoy your popsicles," Michael grabbed the box, and turned to leave. The clerk sputtered out his too long restrained laugh. Michael stopped, and spun around in frustration, glaring at the young man while giving him yet another look at his fresh, permanent marker tattoo – scrawling hearts and letters which read, "I'm really, really, REALLY bad at poker!" in Angela's curliest handwriting, his nipples and belly button the centers of large flowers.
Clenching his teeth, Michael turned to Angela. "Ready to go, dear?" and ran laughing toward their room.
Angela's mouth fell open and chased after him, indignantly shouting, "Dues is dues!"
They sprinted breathlessly to their room, her trailing only by a little. When she caught up with him at the lock, she stamped her foot. "Foul play! You still owe me!"
"Damn straight, I do," he smiled, yanking her playfully into the room.
January 1977 - NYC
Michael walked into Wallace & McQuade a couple of days later with a vase of tiger lilies.
"May I help you?" the receptionist asked.
"Yeah, I'm Michael Bower, here to see Angela Robinson."
"Just a moment, please," she stated professionally, and called Angela's office.
Michael walked to the letter board case listing the executives and their positions. Sure enough, Angela's name was on there. "Angela Robinson, Jr. Vice President," he read. He continued talking aloud to himself. "What the hell is a Junior Vice President anyway? I've never heard of that," he said with the teensiest scoff.
"My guess is it's something like an Assistant Producer," Angela said behind him, arms folded, particularly unamused.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and spun around with them popped open. "Hey, MBA!" he said through a convicted smile.
"Mmm," Angela said with a raise to her eyebrows. Looking at the receptionist, she said, "Thank you, Sheila." She turned around, catching Michael's eye, and curled her index finger toward the direction she was headed. "This way," she said monotone.
She walked into her office, and held the heavy, wooden door so he could bring in the flowers. She shut the door and sat back in her chair, crossing her elegant legs and re-folding her arms. He held out the lilies, "For my tigress," Michael said with a wiggle to his brows.
"What brings you to Wallace & McQuade?" she said coolly.
"The hottest executive in town, that's what," Michael came over to her confidently with a wry smile. Her expression remained unchanged, and he took her hand and pulled her up right to his chest. "Seriously, they don't list all your qualifications up there. They don't know what they have."
"Do you?"
He gave a defeated laugh, and dropped her arms. "Oh, come on, Angela. I was just kidding."
"It wasn't funny," she said straight faced.
"You know, you're not the first person to tell me that," he said, still trying to lighten the mood.
"This isn't the first time I've told you that," Angela let a little raise come to her voice.
He threw his arms up in defeat and sighed exaggeratedly, and Angela looked down to regroup.
"Michael," she looked him in the eye, "my contract is such that I've got eight more months at the junior executive level. This September, I'm scheduled to move up to a full Vice Presidency position. It's an investment, and I'm thrilled to have been appointed to this job. But do you know who I report to during this year long OJT? The single most condescending sexist I've ever met. Every day I'm trying to show him I can do this job, and he just smirks and rolls his eyes at everything I say. He's convinced my appointment was clandestine. Please stop reminding me of him."
Michael sighed, and dropped his head. Walking over to her in a kind of swinging like mopey motion, he put his arms around her. "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more sensitive. I really wasn't thinking about it seriously."
She searched his eyes for comprehension, but was pretty sure she found only sincere placation. He doesn't want to fight. She could see he wasn't trying to hurt her…He just does.
He leaned down for a kiss, and she wanted things to be okay so badly. She didn't want to see mere placation. She could really use Michael's comfort. Jim was such a jerk today, and her feet hurt. With a small smile, she accepted the kiss and even finished with a quick, racing stripe lick down the roof of his mouth. She let go with a wink.
"That's my girl!" Michael turned, pointing toward the door. "I'm telling you, that board out there is incomplete! I'm gonna make up a list for Sheila..."
She laughed, and yanked on his arm. "Knock it off, Bower. Where we headed?"
He held her hands and, walking backward, he pulled her with him. "I've been in the editing room all day. You're just finishing up, right?" She nodded. "Want to walk the Park? Go for pizza?"
Angela turned a worried glance out her window. It's cold! At least when I run, I get warmed up. She looked back at his bewitching dimples. He wants to spend time with me. Badly. I want to be with him, too. She sighed. At least these are closed-toed pumps. Angela grabbed her coat.
"So, I'm back at that extended stay place," Michael explained as they puffed along the pathway. Angela nodded, clenching her teeth and everything else to keep warm. "Do you want to head over there after we eat?"
Angela started warming up just thinking about it. "Mm-hmm."
Just then a male jogger brushed roughly past them, jolting Angela into Michael.
"Hey, watch it!" Michael called out after him. The man waved him off, but Angela just looked up at Michael. She got a brief sense of Brian, shielding her from the violent wind that March evening, so long ago. She felt protected.
She smiled up at him with a sincere sense of wonder. I've always wanted someone to care about me like that. Michael stopped in the middle of the path. Acknowledging her look with a deep pause of his own, he gave her an uncertain smile. "Nobody's ever looked at me like that before."
Angela's smile broadened as she returned to the present. She undid the middle two buttons of his overcoat. Slipping her arms in around his waist, she held him tightly. "I just need a quick warm up," she said. He laughed.
"Oh, I'll warm you up, and it won't be quick."
"Pizza first, though, right?" she grinned up at him.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of warming you up without a good, half-pound of cheese in me."
Angela released him a little with a puzzled frown. "Ew."
Michael laughed.
"I know we're close and all, but this is our first week of dating," Angela pointed out, only half-joking.
"Come on, beautiful. We're almost there." He put his arm around her, and started walking, not bothering to do up the buttons.
February 1977 - NYC
Angela lie on her stomach on top of Michael, tracing her fingers aimlessly across his bare chest. He had his hands behind his head, and was smiling up at her.
"So, when do you go?"
"The snakes come out of hibernation at the end of the month, but we'll need to get there a little early to set up."
"Mmm…How long do you think you'll be?"
"Oh, a couple months at least," Michael said excitedly.
Angela looked down at his chest.
"What's the matter?" he asked, worried.
She looked up at him with worried brows. "I'm lonely already."
Michael smiled. "I know have two-man sleeping bag, but you can't miss me in there."
"Michael, I have to work."
He sighed. "I know, I know…but you can visit me, right? It's only Texas. It's not like I'll be in Africa again."
"Yeah, I suppose I could come out for holiday weekends. President's Day is right around when you'll be going. Maybe I can help get you settled," she wiggled her naked hips on top of him.
Michael kept his face flat. "But isn't the next holiday Memorial Day? That's a lot of time. Can't you take off a few days here and there?"
Angela shrugged, "I'm kind of the newbie here, and I just took off a week aft- …after Christmas." Michael looked away. She blinked back a couple tears, and tried again for his attention. "I do have two weeks of vacation every calendar year, but I hesitate to use them so soon. I'm already having a hard time convincing Peterson I'm committed."
"You're sounding a whole lot more interested in Peterson than Bower."
She dropped her head to the side, "That's not fair, Michael, and you know it. I've worked really hard to get where I am. It's important to me."
He didn't say anything for half a minute. Then he sighed, and looked back at her. "I know. You're a big shot." He flatlined a smile, and she indignantly interjected.
"Hey-"
He brought one of his hands out from behind his head and moved a lock of hair from her face. "No, I mean it. I know you're invested there. And you're trying to make a good impression. And we kind of just started…dating." They both smiled, and he sighed. "I'm sorry I'm throwing a fit…I'm just going to miss you, Angela."
Angela tilted her head, and lightly trailed her fingers up his chest, past his armpit, to his elbow. He shivered. In a low voice, she said, "Oh, I'm going to miss you, too." She grabbed onto his shoulders, and pulled herself higher up, letting her feet drop on either side of him. Leaning her head down to his, she kissed his mouth. At least we know we can comfort each other.
