November 1985 – The Beverly Palms Hotel, Los Angeles
(Diamond Ballroom)
Angela loitered around the fountain. Michael had moved on from his talent for torture and had started teaching Jonathan and Heather a reflex game. The smiles were big, and the laughs were loud. They were so picturesque, someone could've snapped a photo for their Christmas card.
That's my family.
Her throat still burning from Michael's assault, Angela dunked her glass for another round of the woefully inadequate, 24 proof juice and turned back to the idyllic trio.
They look so happy.
Flailing, her first grasp was ancient reason. Could I have had that? I wish… Could I have done anything to have made us run as smoothly?
She continued to study them with a growing heaviness pushing behind her forehead. Unable to find peace, she looked down into her glass and stared at all the little, golden bubbles.
"Here, Angela," Tony's voice popped her head up. "Eat this." He held up a dessert plate with a king crab roll and chopsticks.
Like Isabel and Wendy.
I've been given such good friends in this life.
Smiling through the pain, she took it from him and answered him softly, "Thanks."
He's right; I don't want to get drunk here. She placed her full flute on the table and took a bite.
"So, how'd your meetings go today?"
Relief washed over Angela. He's so good at taking care of me. She didn't want to talk about the elephant in the room, and Tony knew it.
Her eyebrows went up, "Excellent."
He caught her excitement, "Yeah? So, what are your plans for Guacamunchies?"
Angela smiled wider, slightly bemused that he was interested in the details, but mostly just happy to talk to a friendly face. "Well, I was thinking about it in the Thai place last night. And well, you know New York," she said rhetorically.
Tony nodded.
"It's one of the most diverse cities in the world."
He kept nodding, but then pointed toward her unfinished crab roll. Making a little chuckle, she took another bite and then continued before swallowing, "Over there, we're familiar with the foods of many cultures, but it's so a part of us that the diversity itself can seem almost native to us. Does that make sense?"
"Well, sure. It wouldn't be Downtown without Little Italy and Chinatown." He shrugged, "That's New York."
He's so intuitive! She put her palm out flat, face up. "Exactly. Well," she leaned into the conversation, "in LA, they're diverse, too – particularly with food. But they're all about trying new things, and it's very important to them that what they consume feels innovative and different. So, our strategy is to go with the 'posh' angle. Avocado is the hottest fruit/condiment/appetizer-enhancer around right now, and that's the context we're going to provide Guacamunchies: They are the cool kids, and everybody's going to want to be seen with them."
A fully engaged Tony responded. "That sounds great, Angela! Yeah, everybody thinks LA is cool, so sell the taste of LA to the rest of us."
"The taste of LA…" Angela tried.
Tony smiled encouragingly, and Angela tipped her head, her own smile regaining that fascination he was so apt to arouse.
"I think I like that," she said, a fire lighting behind her eyes. "They're going to go national, and that'd be perfect for an out-of-state campaign."
"Well, it's yours - use it in good health." he grinned. "Eat your sushi," he finished dryly.
"Yes, sir," she smirked, still holding eye contact.
Tony chuckled then looked around while she ate. "So, you got good people out here?"
Angela swallowed. "Mmm," she nodded, "I really do. To be honest, when I was bogged down with all this California paperwork on the flight, I seriously considered shipping Jim out here and making him do it. But getting another close-up of the operation," she shook her head at herself, "I feel like I need to be the one to deal with him."
Tony's eyebrows went up. "What- you mean for good? Are you sure you don't wanna? Cuz that's genius!" He saluted his hand into the air. "So long, Charlie!" he laughed.
She laughed back, "Yeah… But this office works so well together; I couldn't just drop him on their doorstep and leave."
"Talk about a flaming bag of poo!" Tony laughed.
Angela scrunched her face, not understanding, and he waved her off.
Shaking his head a little, he stared at her for a couple seconds. "You're a great boss, Angela. I hope you know that."
She spent a few grateful moments of her own, marveling at this beautiful gift in front of her. "Thank you, Tony," she whispered.
The steady buzz in Angela's head felt like a recharge. Her eyes kept finding their way to Tony's mouth, and lonely or not, she wanted a taste. Part of her wanted another run at her birthday night.
A big part.
Maybe things could be different this time.
Tony could say all he wanted about keeping things the same and make stinging jokes about her being the only smitten one of the two of them, but she'd felt the desperate air in the motel that night. And she'd gotten another reminder last night on the pool deck: he did want things to be different - he was just scared of restructuring. And she was two drinks in, and not feeling particularly cautious for his sake. Still, she didn't need this to be an all-out sacrifice of her ego.
Let's see how we do…
Angela put the plate down on a nearby table and made a lengthy yawn. Her stretch twisted her torso, and her slight forearms lifted the full, blonde curls off the back of her neck.
Bingo.
She let out a deep breath and made a flat-mouth, buddy smile at Tony. She figured his breath was around there somewhere.
"Mmm," she groaned, twisting the knife. "I don't think those hard chairs were meant to be used for hours on end," she laughed. Frozen, Tony just stared at her.
Hooking her left hand behind her neck, she pulled down with the same arm and tipped her head back.
Three, two, one…
Decisively flipping her head forward, she employed her chest in a quick exhale, "It was nice, though, wasn't it?
Wait a second... The hunted look on Tony's face started to refocus last night for her, even as she continued to feign her ramble.
"-well, the moonlight and getting to wear my favorite suit, anyway." A nervous laugh that was sounding a bit forced, even to her, wasn't calming the silence flaring in Tony, and she found the shift in power surprisingly unwelcome. "The rest of it was… pretty crappy, actually…"
Angela was rapidly losing her nerve. She knew this was a power grab, but it felt like something she needed to win. Even if it were Tony.
Especially if it were Tony. She did want him, and not just tonight. Tony had been there for her when her rebounded marriage had imploded. Tony had been there when she and Jonathan had been too hurt to understand each other. Tony had been her inexhaustible cheerleader and confidante since day one. That was still there, underneath all the teasing, tension, and confusion. She wanted him, and if he was needing a green light, she could provide that.
Tony licked his lips and made a choppy, hesitant search around himself. But instead of getting excited at the ground she was gaining, Angela continued to feel stretched.
Tony found her glass on the fountain table and picked it up. He cleared his throat.
"Do you mind if I-?" he didn't finish.
Angela shook her head.
Her longing face watched Tony take a long swig. She didn't want to push him around like this, even if they were otherwise oriented. It felt like her games with Michael. In fact, being so close to her ex even seemed to inspire the compulsion. And she wanted more than a power grab between her and Tony.
Just as Tony pulled his glass down, Angela stepped up close and placed her lips gently to his cheek. The light stubble on his skin interrupted her intentions, and she involuntarily lingered. He felt so good, it hurt.
Barely flickering eye contact, she whispered up at him, "Thank you for being there for me, Tony."
She took a couple backward steps and spun toward the ladies' room.
November 1985 – The Beverly Palms Hotel, Los Angeles
(Common room, Angela's suite)
The air shook around them.
"Look, Angela," Michael's smooth voice patted her head. "I know this is a big shock, but I wanted to be up front about my intentions." He made a flat smile and put out his hands. "I'll leave you to think it over."
Up front? Angela was still trying to stand up from the hit and couldn't process a thing, but even in deconstructed logic, his words seemed out of place.
Grasping, Angela's eyes followed the only semblance of confidence in the room, and both she and Tony turned as Michael walked past them.
Michael opened the door and spun back toward them. "And thanks, Tony. I did need to remember what I have." He paused, then squinted in sincerity, "I almost left this one on the table."
Patting the door, Michael walked out, leaving his energy in his stead.
Angela was shaking, and she couldn't stop. Her eyes somehow found Tony's.
"Angela, you gotta believe me. I didn't mean nothin' like that!"
She blinked, and her hand went up to her temple. Twisting her face back up to his, she asked, "What- I don't understand. What did he mean, 'remember what he has'?" She shook her head, trying to rearrange her thoughts. "Why would you tell him that?"
"I didn't mean Jonathan!"
Clarity, or what may have been the ease of a rut, gained strength as she continued to question. "Then what did you mean?"
"I meant-" Tony breaths deepened and rose with wide eyed gasps. "I meant-"
A vision of Jonathan looking over his shoulder as he walked off with his dad in an airport flashed through her mind, and Angela let impatience have full control of her face. "You meant what!?"
"I meant Heather!"
Her forward leaning posture deflated a little. "What?" Her head tilted, "Why would Michael need to be reminded of that? He's been all too happy to rub my nose in all he 'has' since he showed up."
Tony's heavily cautious demeanor grated on every bait-and-switch nerve in her history. Why is he stalling!?
Finally, Tony spoke, "Angela, I swear: I had no idea he'd think I meant Jonathan. He was so mopey on the plane; angry and all over the place… I just wanted him to count his blessings! He had Heather! He didn't need to worry about…"
Angela's eyebrows went up in forced encouragement.
"…who you were dating," Tony winced.
"What!?"
Tony rolled his eyes and slouched into submission. "Michael got mad about that guy on the plane. He was mad I let him sit next to you. He thought I shoulda stopped it somehow."
Angela's impatience had morphed into full-on confusion.
Tony sighed, "He wants me to… keep other guys away from you."
Fury pulsed her eyes open, "He what!?"
"Yeah!" Tony caught her passion, preaching with his pointer finger, "And I told him! I told him you get to decide that! And I told him to go look at Heather's picture and remember what he has!"
Angela's breathing had steadied, but she was still staring at Tony. Something isn't adding up.
"How do you get from Michael choosing who I date to Michael needing to appreciate Heather?"
Tony stopped breathing. Angela noticed but didn't care.
"Tony?"
He opened his eyes with a slow blink, "Angela, if you coulda seen him- He was thinkin' about you so much. It was weird!"
Angela crossed her arms over her ribs.
"And I felt bad for him! I mean, he'd lost you," he said almost reverently. "I know I'd be- I mean- you know- uh, to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, and all…"
Why is he babbling? Angela scratched her head, "Tony-"
"Angela, if you knew how much you were on his mind…" His voice got smaller and realer the more he spoke. "You know how he called me last February, when he left? He wanted me to come 'take care' of you? Well, it seems he had very specific intentions there, and he thought I was botchin' the deal. He thinks if I let you get with anyone else, you'll end up puttin' me out to pasture!"
"If you let me?"
"Yeah! Exactly! I told him I won't do it! So, I tried to get him to focus on Heather, cuz he was all wrapped around the axel on you, and it was weirdin' me out!"
Angela looked into Tony's eyes, and the pieces starting to align. "So, you hurried the conversation along and got him focused on another woman."
"Right!"
"Because he shouldn't control my relationships with other men."
She waited.
Tony's eyes flickered to the side.
He turned back to her with wide eyes, "No! No, Angela, I didn't mean that! He was just- you shoulda seen him!"
"I don't want Michael anymore," she said gravely.
Tony's exasperation quit hiding, "Yeah, okay, but did you know you could still have him? Cuz I think you could! You were there, all stormin' around the kitchen, cuz he's marryin' a cheerleader, and he's there, yellin' in my face about how I could lose everything we have-"
Angela's steel came out with the softness of a kitten. "And so, you encourage him to remember what he has."
"Yes!"
She nodded her head to herself, recalculating. "Let me ask you something, Tony. Between Jonathan and whatever it is that 'we have', what in the world makes you think I'd choose you?"
The look on Tony's face was everything she wished she would've shown Michael every time he'd annihilated her. My God. It's contagious.
Angela slapped her hand over her mouth and started to cry. "Tony, I'm sorry!"
How stupid can I be?
He dropped his face and bit his lip. Mascara slung into her eyes as she grabbed his shoulders, willing him to look at her. "Tony, please believe me, I'm sorry! You and Jonathan, Sam and Mother – you're everything to me!"
He looked back up at her, and her sincerity mimicked an oath. "I need all of you." The cries came out just as strong had the ugly.
Please don't leave me!
Tony's gravelly voice came out with a little smile, "We need you, too, Angela. That was kinda my point."
Angela made a bubbly sniff, and Tony stepped her into a tight hug.
She scrunched his shirt in her fists, and his arms overlapped securely behind her back.
"I'm sorry," she again whispered into his collar.
He didn't let her go, and he kept his voice deep, "I know." He sighed, "If I thought someone had a shot at stealin' Sam, I'd go nuts, too."
Squeezing his back instead of his shirt, Angela started to cry again. Michael does have a shot.
Tony resituated so his wrists crossed behind her waist, and Angela felt herself calming at the intimacy. She laid her head on his shoulder and her staggered breaths started to smooth.
She was still shaking, but the air wasn't. That was now soft. And the clean smell and crisp texture of Tony's dress shirt gave her an up-close reminder of just how good he was at taking care of them.
She felt his chin prop up on the back of her head. "We're gonna get him, Angela."
