November 1985 – The Beverly Palms Hotel, Los Angeles
Angela's eyes opened as slowly as her smile. She turned her head toward Tony's chair and the building snores coming out of his relaxed face. It was oddly heartwarming. There was something vulnerable and close about sleeping next to someone, and despite her own hesitation when the surprisingly frequent opportunities had presented themselves, Angela had been intrigued by every such encounter she'd been granted with him. She hadn't even fallen asleep this time, and the proximity to Tony she felt still couldn't be calculated in inches.
Just as paradoxical as his alluring snores, having Tony sit with her while she grieved hurt more than being by herself, but once she stopped crying, she found her outlook much clearer and her loneliness more satisfied. I still miss Michael, and that's okay.
Angela lifted her face as the breeze picked up. Not ready to leave the cocoon their joined hands were even still constructing around her heart, she consciously muted her shivers and turned her attention back to her friend.
For once able to intrude unnoticed, she took her time studying Tony's face. As she stared, her previously amused smile turned to fascination.
Tony's thick, dipped eyebrows were expressive, even in his sleep, and she found the delicate cut of his well-conditioned pout adorable and beautiful all at once. Clearly, this man was made to express emotions.
She thought about how much more alive and free she, too, had felt since Tony had come into her life, his own lifestyle innately granting her the permission she'd long denied herself.
With another gust of what could hardly still be called a breeze, Angela's eye caught the toned skin beneath his wavering shirt. Her tongue barely touched behind her lips, which then parted to let her fascination parade out in front of her temporarily relieved façade.
She wanted to thank the unbuttoned collar and the two or three free buttonholes, beside. Her smile started to tilt, as did her head.
Her attention found the hand he was still holding, and she felt a little guilty. Tony was her friend. That's what he wanted to be. She didn't want to take something he didn't want her to have.
Of course, he has seen me completely naked.
Stop it, Angela. That was an accident.
Still, the unfairness of it all now bugged her almost as much as the embarrassment had at first. She started to make a pout with her own lips before smiling to herself. I wonder if he liked it.
Angela slowly turned back toward Tony. Her tongue perched against the side of her lower lip as an open smile took shape on her face. I would've.
Giggling silently to herself, her memory flashed Michael's seductive face from the kitchen, the day he left. 'Do you want to say goodbye?'
Ah, shit. Her annoyed face focused back on the pool in front of her. She was just lonely and using poor Tony.
Truthfully, she was grateful for his company. There really wasn't anything to say, and Tony had stopped trying to force it. Despite the unintentional cruelty of his faux pas, clearly, he'd just wanted her to know that he cared. And she did. It's not like anybody could fix it. She'd been right: all of this was going to hurt for a while.
Angela was just about to jiggle his hand awake, when she decided on one last look at Tony's sleeping face. His dark lashes and fine features were so pretty. Just then, a gigantic snort proceeded from him, and another smile graced her charmed face. He really is cute.
She wanted to climb in the chair with him. I am lonely - and being held by Tony was starting to sound better and better. If he would, she would've.
He wouldn't.
Sighing to herself, she jostled Tony's hand. "Tony," her low voice hummed.
He didn't wake up. Biting her lip, she looked down at their hands and wisped her thumb over his knuckles. "Tony," she repeated.
He was out cold. Laughing to herself, Angela shook her head and got up. She scooted her chair from his and squatted back down next to him. Picking up his fallen hand, she held it near her face. "Tony," she said more decisively.
Tony awakened with a jolt, "Angela!" His eyes flickered amongst their surroundings, regaining context. Taking a breath, he scootched upright.
"What time is it?"
"Almost 2," she smiled.
He let go of her hand and sniffed, wiping his palms down his face.
She kept her voice as low as before, "Thank you for staying with me."
A little more settled, Tony looked over all the mascara smears now facing him in the patio light. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.
Her smile was small. "Better than before."
He made a slow nod. The wind blew again, and they both shivered.
Tony piped up, "Hey, let's get upstairs. It's freezin' down here!"
Angela rubbed her upper arms, the sheer material of her swim cover not being a great deal of help. "Good idea."
They both scooted their chairs back to where they belonged. Standing upright, Angela noticed Tony zipping his face away from her, and she started to not feel so bad about the peeks she'd sneaked.
With a smile to her voice, Angela nodded toward the hotel doors, "Come on; let's go."
Walking side by side, she took great care not to smack his butt.
Nice to know my ally's in the same fight.
Angela came into the common room of their suite early the next morning buttoning a burgundy blazer over a teal blouse. She felt so stylish and modern in these bold color choices and hoped her hip, LA workforce would agree. Flipping up her head to jog down the couple of stairs, she saw Tony watching her from the couch.
He smiled widely and poured a mug of hot coffee next to a glass of orange juice. "Good morning, Angela!"
"Tony!" her hushed exclamation begged. "What are you doing up? We went to bed so late, I thought for sure you'd want to sleep in."
"Not as much as I want to make sure you got breakfast," his eyebrows dipped up.
Angela tilted her head, and the lashes of her smiling eyes curled up high. "Thank you," she said honestly.
Tony shrugged off the attention, "Besides, the kids are so excited for the beach, if I don't get up now, I'll never get my run in."
She kept her smile plastered, but the warmth had left. She sat down next to him and took a sip of coffee. Oh, please, for once, can nonchalance work? I can't redo my makeup now. I've got to go.
She kept the mug up to her face until she'd drunk half the cup. Setting it down, she did the same to the juice.
Tony continued to watch her. "Hey, uh, Angela?"
She looked up at him as she was reaching again for the coffee.
"Hey, if you have time, why don't you swing by the beach? I think we'll be there all day."
Angela's throat started to sting, and she widened her eyes, desperately hoping nothing would fall. He's already seen me cry recently - gotta space that out a bit. Swallowing before she took a sip, she answered quietly, "Okay."
Tony's the only one who cares if I'm here.
But he does, and I'm so glad he's here.
"Hey, Tony?" Jonathan asked the apple in his hands.
Though not quite twilight, the sun had fallen deep into the western sky. Michael and Heather were strolling along the beach, and Sam and Mona had gone to get more sodas.
Sitting right next to him, Tony dipped his head to catch Jonathan's eye. "Yeah, pal?"
"I don't think my dad likes Transformers."
In between bites of his banana, Tony tilted his head back and forth, considering. "Well, that's okay, right?"
Jonathan sighed, "Yeah, I guess." A couple seconds passed, and he looked up to Tony hopefully, "But maybe… maybe he'd like it if I talked to him about really big, scary spiders!"
Tony scrunched his face, "Whuh?"
Jonathan's whole being recharged as he spoke, "Yeah! Yeah, will you help me catch one?"
"Um, I guess… You sure you want to do that? Do you like big, scary spiders?"
Jonathan's whole face lit up, "Of course, I do!"
After talking with Mona's lifeguard, Tony emptied the cooler, and he and Jonathan trudged through the sand toward the beach patrol's equipment shack.
When they got there, the rickety, chipped-paint ruin towered over them like Goliath. "Okay, buddy," Tony breathed. "The lifeguard said there's always spiders in this thing. Let's see if we can find an ugly one."
Jonathan's enormous grin set beneath greedy eyes, and he threw he fist in the air. "Let's get 'em!"
Tony scrunched his brows at him, and held the kid's shoulder back, "Whoa, there, partner. Uh, let's be a little bit careful, okay?"
Jonathan settled and looked up to Tony with open curiosity. "Are you scared of spiders, Tony?"
Tony made a little laugh, "Uh, not really... Well, maybe a little- They're not a big deal. I just like to leave 'em alone."
"Don't worry, buddy." Jonathan patted Tony's arm. "Just stick by me. We'll get one."
The two buccaneers creaked open the wooden doors, and the harsh sunlight caused instant scurrying among the residents. Tony's face looked far less excited than Jonathan's, but he pointed to a giant web in the front corner of the shed. "Look, Jonathan! I think we can get that guy easily, and he's really gross."
Jonathan's greedy smile was back and stronger than ever. Slapping his hands together, he rubbed them like Aladdin wishing on a lamp, "Let's go!"
Flicking a nervous crick from his neck, Tony opened the cooler. He tiptoed toward the web, bringing the box up high. As soon as he was a few inches away, he stopped. Backing up he turned to Jonathan. "Hey, pal. Go get me that stick," he said, pointing a few yards away.
Jonathan ran and grabbed it.
Tony reapproached the suspended creature with the concentration of a brain surgeon, his swiping stick at the ready. He was just about there, when Jonathan's eyebrows went up.
"Tony, stop!"
Tony's eyebrows went up and he froze. "What is it!?" he whispered forcefully.
"Don't move."
It was said with such conviction and maturity, Tony obeyed.
Jonathan came up and carefully took the cooler from Tony. With his eyes still looking downward, Jonathan took the stick, too.
Tony didn't move his feet, but he started to twist at the waist to look at Jonathan.
"Stop moving, Tony," Jonathan's steady voice ordered.
Then, Tony's eyes widened to perfect circles. Just above the back of his knee, a fuzzy tarantula restarted his upward climb.
"Ahhh!" Tony screamed and started to run just as Jonathan swiped the spider in the bucket.
"I got him!" Jonathan hugged the cooler with both hands and chased after a still-running Tony.
Angela got up from the table and took her flute with her. She cast a wistful glance over at Tony who was in the middle of an animated discussion with Heather and Sam.
Just being at her ex-husband's rehearsal dinner was giving her nerves, and even feeling silly about it, Angela wished Tony were talking with her. He has such a way of putting me at ease. Smiling, thinking about last night and this morning, she shook her head to herself. Give the guy a break, Angela. He's helped you enough.
Besides, you're okay. Everything is lining up beautifully for the Guacamunchies campaign. Your people are ahead of the paperwork. You pulled yourself together after that devastation on the beach and worked that boardroom like the pro you are. Her smile grew confident as she stepped up to the champagne fountain and refilled her glass.
"Not quite as strong as Thai rum, is it?"
Angela didn't turn her head from the refilling process when she answered. "Hello, Michael."
Of course, she wouldn't have had to turn her head to understand he was smirking at her again. It seemed to be a given, at this point.
Michael cocked his head, "So, hey, I was wondering: You know when you were flirting with that dick on the plane-"
Angela's half-lidded stare did turn toward him then.
"And you said the reason you changed schools was you were running from your ex-boyfriend?"
Angela blinked.
"Why didn't you ever tell me that?"
Her eyebrows went up on her stony face, "You didn't ask."
He squinted at her.
Angela sighed and rubbed her temple. He's so exhausting. "We didn't tell each other a lot of things, Michael."
"Like what?"
She scoffed, "If it didn't matter then, it sure doesn't matter now."
Michael let out an angry stream of air and looked off to the side.
Things were tightening like they always did if she gave Michael enough time. Angela almost never knew what the catalyst was, though it was often so random, she was starting to wonder if Michael didn't either.
I don't know why it always has to be this way with us, but I need to end the conversation with this dick, too. It's not productive, and I'm starting to enjoy it.
Angela looked Michael in the face and tried to deliver a soft expression. "Look, Michael, I don't want to fight with you. This is a beautiful venue and Heather seems… very nice-" she shook her head and shrugged, searching her mind for a way to finish gracefully.
Michael nodded and kept his smile sarcastic, "Oh, yeah, right."
Angela sobered, "No, Michael, I mean it… She seems great."
Michael's face tightened, and he took a few moments to respond.
"She is. She's low maintenance, isn't afraid to try things, and I can actually drink the coffee she makes me. She's perfect."
Angela's throat never asked her permission to burn. Why does this have to hurt so badly?
"I'm glad you all could make it out here to meet her," Michael clipped.
He turned and made his way over to Heather. Coming up behind her, he gave her a hug and kissed under her ear, all the while stealing glares at Angela.
