Addendum 4.2 – "Custody pt. 2"
November 1985 – The Beverly Palms Hotel, Los Angeles
Angela walked up the outside patio staircase with an extra thump to her steps. She wasn't looking at Tony, but he was looking at her. Objectively speaking, it had been a nice little wedding, despite the relational and biological conditions her party seemed to rain down on the event. But even getting to dance a pick-me-up with Tony didn't remove the sigh from Angela's overall mood.
Michael was upstairs having sex with someone else. Even understanding everything she understood didn't fix that. It hurt.
She wanted to know as little as possible, and he had literally stopped by right before he went to his room.
Of course, Angela was glad Michael hadn't waited to tell her about not wanting custody anymore, the anxiety of the last couple days being the worst she'd felt in years – probably since he'd physically scared her, and she'd gained all that weight to deny it.
Wait. No… then there was Panama, when I flipped out that he would leave me for flirting with Grant, and then, of course, jarring my whole world when he picked up that first girl instead…
Her eyebrows went up, and she shook her head to clear more fuzziness from her memory. He terrified me at the Waldorf. One second, we're having the deepest sex we'd ever had, the next he's screaming at me. That was REALLY bad…
Angela squinted to see the past even better. And then there was that phone call…
Ah, well. It's still been a while since he's sparked a cold sweat in me. I'm glad that's over.
She tilted her head, and her walk up the stairs slowed as her powers of concentration were further diverted.
Huh… she marveled. Every one of those times had to do with the fear that we weren't what the other wanted most. Even back when she was worried that he was going to hurt her, it had started by Michael's concern that she was running around on him.
And after he found out I actually had slept with other men, he was hell-bent to be the king of the mountain.
Is that natural? Hmm...
Angela's itchy neck brought her thoughts to the present. She knew everybody probably thought she wore the thick velvet dress in 80 degree weather for personality's sake, and not having checked the forecast, she had brought it as an option. But she'd been stressing and sweating so much the last couple days that she'd actually broken out on her back, thus making her other packed options obsolete.
Angela glanced back to Tony, and he was still right behind her. Her nerves weren't the only reason she was glad Michael hadn't waited to tell her. The relief she'd shared with Tony as he'd formed a group hug with her and her oblivious son was a deep richness all too unfamiliar in her life.
But now that the war was over, her mind could indulge irrational preferences before negated by terror. Now, she was free to wish Michael had waited to tell her. I don't need a schedule of events. What's he going to do next? Invite us up for ice cream in a few hours?
She didn't want to be rational. She wanted relief from that all-too-familiar itch she had around her ex. Trying to mindread didn't facilitate that, but it was difficult to ignore the evidence dropped on her doorstep.
How often has Michael concerned himself with my stress levels? And how many of those times would he have put my ease of mind ahead of him 'getting some'?
Angela rolled her eyes at herself and tried to shake off the drama. It felt like backsliding.
Michael's mind games aren't my business. And I guess it doesn't even matter.
It just hurts.
Angela groaned internally. Tipping her head back, she stomped her way to the top of the stone staircase. Tony opened the glass door into the inside promenade, and she made an effort to smile at him as she walked through first.
Tony rolled his lips between his teeth, then took a breath, "Uh, Angela?"
Angela turned her face to his as they made their way down the carpeted walkway.
"Do you remember me telling you about Doreen DiSpenza?" he asked with a knowing flick to his eyebrows.
"The sexy Italian machine?" she confirmed dryly.
"One and the same," he rushed. "Well, you know, the reason I was thinking about her while I was sitting in that beautiful convertible was because she was hot."
Yeah, I got that… Angela's lids dropped halfway down, and her remaining capacity requested her head face forward.
But an ignorant Tony kept going, clearly still able and happy to see this young woman right before his eyes. "She was unbelievable... 34-24-36-" he shut his eyes in ecstasy, "red lips, hoop earrings, and any way you hugged her, there was somethin' to squeeze."
A long exhale turned her face back to his, "No offense, Tony, but isn't there a guy you could tell this story to? Or a dog…"
Tony patted the steam off the air around her but continued his unapologetic march. "Calm down; calm down. My point is, this girl took me to gears I ain't never felt in a car."
Despite her best efforts, Angela's eyes started to lose their edge. Something in the way Tony was expressing himself started to feel like she wasn't losing a competition so much as gaining better seats.
Tony flicked his head off to the side as he continued to explain. "The only problem was - well, besides her boyfriend," he chuckled, "was she was always smackin' me."
Angela's eyebrows carved out a deep furrow. Tony rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and tossed a nervous glance over at her. "Yeah, I mean, she couldn't'a been a buck twenty, so it wasn't like getting schooled by Sugar Ray Leonard or nothin'."
Angela was having difficulty following his vernacular. And yet, somehow, she wasn't.
The familiarity of Tony's insistent laugh, one that only became worse the more he spoke, hurt Angela almost as much as his surprisingly clear thoughts. "But uh… it was really embarrassing. Like, in front of my friends, and even my pop, once."
Angela didn't say anything but realized she was definitely over her jealousy of Miss DiSpenza.
Tony's eyes looked to the back-in-time in front of them as they closed the distance to the elevator lobby.
"It wasn't like it was a big hit, but Pop," Tony shrugged, "he noticed. And uh- after she went home, I remember him asking me - not trying to make a point," he threw up his hands, "- just askin' - …askin' if she was worth it."
Angela had to look in front of her as they rounded the corner, but quickly turned her attention back to Tony. "Was she?" her small voice clearly wanted to know.
Tony's voice went up with his eyebrows, "Yeah. Yeah, for a while… But between gettin' chased by her boyfriend every time he saw me and duckin' her fists all the time, I was just tired. But- …it was also kinda exciting: never knowin' what the- well, you know-" He put out his hands in rhetorical explanation, "always being on the edge of my seat?"
He shrugged again and laughed, "I think I kinda liked it. But I got to lookin' around and thinkin', maybe there's an easier way to have a good time?" He let out yet another nervous laugh, "Anyway, I just started to get the feeling that she wasn't worth it to me anymore."
Half of Angela's smile tipped up at him, and she pushed the elevator button.
Tony started grinning as they waited, "Plus, that was when Marie- uh… Well, I started noticing her more right about then…"
Angela rolled her eyes and shook her head in front of her. Why is it always the boobs…
But Tony turned his head and made sure he caught Angela's eye, "And she was real sweet."
Angela's stiffness dissipated at the look in his eyes. He means that.
"I didn't spend one second weighin' pros and cons with her. She was just great to be around. And I liked that."
Angela looked at him for a moment before she nodded.
Tony nodded back, and the elevator dinged. Boarding the car, they turned around inside.
Tony pushed the button for their floor, and they both spent several seconds staring at the brass paneling in front of them. Angela didn't recognize the song playing through the speakers, but it was terrible.
They rode up many floors before she could brave eye contact with Tony's reflection. Swallowing, her tiny voice dove in, "I miss Michael."
Tony kept looking straight ahead as he nodded, unphased, "I know."
Sighing, he turned to face her, "And I know I gave you a lil' guff about it the other day, but I was thinkin' it over, and uh-" he popped up a spectacular pair of sheepish eyebrows, "if I'm being honest, I could go for a handful of Doreen, myself."
Angela laughed brightly, and even shaking her head, she couldn't begrudge his fantasy.
He was okay with hers.
"Hey, Angela?" Tony ducked his head in the open door to Angela's room the next morning and patted the frame.
"Alright. Thank you very much," Angela spoke into the phone. "Goodbye." Placing the receiver back on its hook, she spun toward the door. "Yes, Tony?"
His eyebrows shot up, "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt."
She smiled kindly, "You're not."
"Oh, good," he grinned.
Tony's smile always put her at ease.
He jogged closer to her. "So, hey, I was thinkin'. You wanna walk the pier or somethin' before the flight this afternoon? You haven't gotten to do much touristy stuff since we got here."
Angela lifted her chin and kept smiling at him. "Actually, I just got off the phone with the airline. I moved us to the red eye."
He frowned at her, "Whuh for?"
"Well, I did a little research, and the guys in the office told me about a basketball game happening tonight." Tony's face paused as she smiled wider. "They said the local team is playing one from New York. Would you like to go?"
Jolting across the space between them, Tony knelt before her, one hand braced on the desk and the other on the back of her chair. Like a battered traveler looking up to Lady Liberty herself, he whispered, "You got Knicks tickets?"
She nodded down at him, grinning. "That sounds right."
"Lakers or Clippers?" he squeaked.
Angela blanked, "Pardon me?"
"Who are they playing!?" he lightly shook the furniture he was holding.
She'd never felt this unprepared for a pop quiz before, and she'd never so badly wanted to know the correct answer. He's so cute when he's excited.
FOCUS, Angela! "Uh..."
"Is it at the Forum or the Arena?"
I KNOW that!
"It's at the Arena!" she blurted delightedly.
Leaping directly from his squat, Tony soared off the ground. "Yes!"
When he hit the floor, he landed back in a squat in front of her and exuberantly shook her knees. Angela's wide eyes looked down at his hands, and he retrieved them with only the slightest cow before continuing to bubble over, "Just think! The number one draft pick postin' Donaldson, himself, outta the paint!"
Trying to remain present in her own multi-variable excitement, and stalling for a moment, just to be sure, Angela could indeed confirm for herself that she could no longer keep up any sort of ruse.
"Tony, I appreciate your confidence in me, but I have no idea what you're saying."
He stood up and leaned down to hug her shoulders tightly, "I'm saying you're the best boss in the whole wide world!"
With the side of his head pressed to hers, Angela smiled as she bit her lip. She felt calm and peaceful, despite her quickening heartrate.
But Tony didn't linger, and she rolled with it, mimicking his pull backward. She stood up with him and smiled through her voice, "I'm glad you think so."
She glanced at the ground for a second before reapproaching.
"Tony, I want you to know I… appreciate you." The frozen excitement on his face melted sweetly. "This trip has been just awful for me, and you kept me centered. Thank you." She shrugged, "I needed to count my blessings, too."
Tony let out an awkward laugh and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. "I really am sorry about that, by the way." He squinted at her, "…Michael's a confusing guy."
Angela flicked her eyebrows up dryly as she scoffed, "Tell me about it."
November 1985 - LAX
An exhausted Jonathan rode Tony's back into the airport that night, Angela picking up the slack with the bags Tony wasn't also carrying.
"Yeah, I'm not doing this anymore," Mona decided and dumped her suitcase where she stood. Marching over to the baggage cart rental, she paid the best 25 cents of their lives and wheeled it back over to them.
"Good thinkin', Mone," Tony nodded. "…After all those emotions-" he waved his hand in front of his face. "I just can't be the hero all the time."
Sam twisted her eyebrows. "Get a grip, Dad. We were 0 and 4 walkin' into the joint. Whud you expect?"
They all piled on their suitcases, and Angela, toddling in heels, started pushing the cart to the luggage check.
Tony frowned down at his daughter as he continued to carry Jonathan. "Sam, you don't root for your team just when you know they can win. Besides, Ewing's just a baby, and he put up twice the points that Donaldson did. It was worth showin' up just for that!"
Sam patted her dad's arm, "You're a good man, Dad. A good man."
Angela's eyes shone at Tony carrying her sleeping son.
I couldn't agree more.
The terminal felt cold as they made their way to their gate, all the windows giving free rein to the surpassing darkness outside. The shops were closed, and the few patrons present mostly loitered in the chairs and along the walls. Angela almost felt the need to whisper.
"Alright, we've got a while before take-off, but everybody make sure you're back here no later than 2:15, okay? I don't want to miss our flight because someone had to go to the bathroom – Mother."
Mona scowled at Angela, "I'm too tired to argue. I'll get you back later."
"Deal," Angela nodded.
"I'm going to walk around before that long a- uh, long flight." Mona looked down at Sam, "Wanna go?"
"Definitely," Sam nodded, clearly gaining a second wind.
"Well, I'm going to sit right. here." Angela plopped down with a relieved exhale.
The ladies walked off, and Tony gently put Jonathan down, two seats over from his mother.
Plunking himself between them, Tony looked over at her seriously. "Angela, this was just the best night. Thank you."
A small smile formed out of her parted mouth. "You're very welcome, Tony. Thanks for showing me the ropes. I've never been to a professional sporting event before."
Tony nodded and managed a wider smile, "It's huge, huh? All that energy. 11,000 voices bumpin' through your chest - it's incredible."
Tired as he must've been, nothing could rob him of the pervasive sweetness Angela had learned was Tony's signature move. He really is cute.
She loved being with him. It wasn't like Michael's high voltage hit she'd crave and then spend weeks repenting. It was a secure, enriching presence she knew she didn't want to be without and a low, steady buzz intriguing her with its possible source.
She wrapped herself in the intimacy of their interaction. Their voices were small but lucid, open and private, all at once.
Her eyebrows went up. "Even if your team didn't win?"
"Angela, that game needed to be watched. Yes, I might have to cry again, but it was a terrific night. I mean, for all Sam's jawin', they only lost by 8 points," he shrugged. "And I had a great time with-" his eyes flickered over at her, "…everybody."
Angela's lashes flipped up at the corners of her eyes. "I had a great time with… everybody, too," she said softly.
Tony vented a sharp laugh, "Though, I admit, that Kiss Cam threw me for a loop, your mother in front of us, keepin' on elbowin' my shins." His mocking voice of recollection rose, "'Come on, Anthony!'" before he dropped it in a huff, "–Bah! I'd like ta…" he shook his head.
Angela chuckled, "Oh, I thought you were going to say how disappointed you were that she got the camera to focus on her and that guy."
His scoff came in several octaves higher, but then he recovered, and his deep, habitual bravado purred, "If she hadn't, I promise, your head would still be in the clouds."
She flicked up one eyebrow, "Mine?"
Tony held her perfectly dry stare for a commendable amount of time before dropping under the weight of it. He dipped his face down and mumbled, "Ya heard me." Pausing for a quick second, he laughed it all off as a joke.
Angela didn't know why that hurt a little, but it did. They were both playing around.
But they weren't, and after the weekend of consequence she'd just had, pretense felt painfully cloy.
Well, what else am I going to do? I can't push him and end up anywhere I want to be.
She decided to merge.
Making a lighthearted chuckle, she let them both off the hook, "Well, I guess that's one thing we don't have to worry about. Where Marvin Gaye is singing, Mother will be stealing the spotlight."
Truthfully, Angela was a little surprised, considering what a to-do her mother liked to make over her and Tony. But that Clippers fan sitting next to her was pretty dishy… can't fault a girl for that. And how long could she keep hitting Tony? It was getting embarrassing.
Tony looked ahead as he nodded, "Yeah..." He made another diminished attempt at a laugh, "What a relief."
From a sideward glance, Angela got a full-on view of his discomfiture and smirked. Looking forward, herself, she had to agree with Grant. That'll do.
Mona and Sam must have found something or someone interesting, because the rest of their party enjoyed almost an hour of uninterrupted, communal sleep in their row of chairs.
But a familiar gait in the echoey terminal woke Angela's subconscious and her eyes blinked open.
Michael.
Involuntary as it was, her internal radar was working perfectly, and she lifted her sleepy head from Tony's shoulder. Michael and Heather walked down the hallway with their inside arms wrapped around each other.
Angela still felt like Michael's very presence called to her, and his freshly inked marriage license meant little to the physical way she experienced him.
Heather was happily chatting away, and Michael locked eyes with Angela as they passed.
8 million people in LA, and I can't get a break.
Angela felt itchy again. There was something else her body wanted her to say. She'd gone through most of her marriage feeling confused and indignant about her husband's sharpness. And while she basically understood the cause of it now, she was still left with an unsettling weight that hadn't sifted in the chaos.
They both did what they did because they weren't willing to be honest, and Angela found herself feeling distractedly sorry for a particular piece of that.
And she was angry. She'd been left with a lot of unaccounted-for hurt, herself, and she wanted relief. She wanted resolution. She wanted him to be sorry, too. And of all the people who could be sharing this international airport with her, Michael had showed up.
It was an itch she wanted scratched. Having just recently figured out their long-standing contention, the awareness was new, but still very much there. And she didn't like it.
When else would she have this chance? More to the point, how long would she have to wait in its misery if she declined the opportunity?
She saw Heather go to the bathroom while Michael waited in the glowing blue light of the flight information screens, and despite the hesitancy that kept her tucked in close to Tony, Angela felt herself stand up.
She bit her lip the whole way over to Michael, and like everything else with them, it hurt.
"Michael?"
Michael had watched her walk toward him but hadn't closed any ground on his end.
"What's up?" his guarded answer presented.
Angela tried to smile. "Hey. Um," she took a breath, "I was thinking about what you said in the elevator."
Michael narrowed his eyes suspiciously but let her keep talking.
She took another breath as a running start. "Michael, you were right. When you came home in February… I had no business starting anything with you until I was honest about where I was and what I'd been doing." She shrugged, "I was afraid you'd leave, and-"
Michael's eyes had formed a solid glare, and she tried to hurry her presentation.
"I just- I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Grant and - well, the others - before we'd started to have sex. It was inappropriate and untoward, and I had no right to-"
Michael shook his head. "Fuck you," he whispered.
Angela let her flared pupils and gaping mouth answer for her.
"We're done; I married Heather. And what you felt the need to get off your tiny chest is that you're sorry you 'didn't tell me' that you fucked your boss before you started fucking with me again?" He let out a quick laugh of disbelief, "You're still not sorry you even did it, and you know that's the part the hurts the most. You won't stop pickin' at me! Well, listen, Angela, if you want some kind of absolution from me, you're not going to get it. You want my final word? You're a shitty wife." He flicked his chin toward Tony, "So go on back to your poor man's happiness over there and leave me the hell alone. It's the best you're gonna get."
With a quick glance of respect toward the bathroom, Angela narrowed her own eyes at Michael and spoke low.
"I came over here, Michael, because I AM sorry I didn't tell you first, and I wanted you to know that."
Then she took an unapologetic half-step closer, looking her past square in the eye. "But I am also sick to death of taking the wrap for how our marriage played out. You keep acting like this thing with Grant was our first and worst broken vow." Angela's nose scrunched and pinched out her swelling tears. "Fuck you," she spat quietly. "Where's my apology? Even if you hadn't been the first one of us to get physical with someone else in Panama, you'd been trashing my heart since we were dating. That's what hurts me the most, and you're still not sorry for that. Do you have any idea what you've done to me? Do you know, even at work, where I'm the most confident, I have to remind myself I'm my company's fucking president and not just Michael Bower's little bitch before I confront someone? Do you know how 'tiny' way more than my 'chest' feels around you? Do you have any idea how many times your wife cried herself to sleep with you right next to her? You'd punch a hole in me then patch it up just so you could do it again. You want my final word? I am NOT sorry I slept with Grant. And I might not feel the best about the other guys, but I went to them in a flash of desperation after having to give Grant up. He rebuilt all the ways you tore me down, and even counting him, that 'poor man' over there," she said slinging a pointer finger at the back of Tony's head, "is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He cares about both me and Jonathan and wouldn't let either of us worry for one minute that weren't true. He thinks I'm smart and brags about me like a little, ol' grandmother. Do you know what that feels like after 8 years of you using whatever bits of time you plucked out of your schedule to yo-yo me back and forth between heaven and hell? It feels like peace. I'm not looking for relief anymore, Michael, because I don't need it. I'm happy, and it's the richest I have ever felt."
Shaking his head, Michael swept a contemptuous look over Angela, and the confidence of his throaty response was as understandable as his words. "I know you, Angela. I know just how you want to be licked, sucked, and fucked. Nobody knows you like I do, and nobody's going to."
Just then, the high-pitched air of a hand dryer squealed from the ladies' room.
Angela disregarded the ghosts of fear swirling around her and kept her executive stare zeroed in on her ex-husband. "As good as you were at 'fucking' me, Michael, that's not all it takes to satisfy me." She turned a wide, coy smile toward Tony. "And actually, I think-" She turned her jaw back toward Michael, just in time for her peripheral vision to catch his palm flying toward her face.
"Angela!"
Angela's eyes shot open, and Tony mildly jostled his shoulder under her cheek. "Come on, Angela. They're boarding. You can sit next to me on the flight." He got up and situated his carry-on.
Angela was shaking. She sat up in her seat and tried to blink herself further into consciousness. Shivering, she noticed a cold wetness on her chest and down her back. Tony's head flipped up from where he was bent over, zipping up his backpack.
"You okay?"
"Hmm?" Fingers to forehead, Angela's bent elbow was up in the air, and she swallowed thickly.
"Holy cow, Angela," Tony's worried gaze settled in on her. "You're whiter than a sheet. Are you alright? Is your lip bleeding?"
Angela didn't answer, and Tony called to Sam, "Hey, Sam, bring that soda over here."
Sam hustled over an unopened can of 7-Up, "Here, Dad."
He nodded toward Angela, and Sam looked down at her. "Whoa! You okay, Angela?" she said, handing her the can.
Slowly regaining her bearing, Angela gave Sam an embarrassed smile. "Oh, th- thank you, sweetheart," her teeth chattered. "But I don't want to take your drink."
Sam shrugged, "I already had one, and Dad won't let me have another."
With a half-hearted laugh, Angela accepted the gift with a little nod. "Thank you."
Sam smiled nervously and went to stand next to Mona.
Angela popped the top of her drink as Tony picked Jonathan back up. She took a long, slow sip of the refreshing bubbles and blinked around at her belongings. Looking up, she watched as her mother talked herself and Sam to the front of the line. In other circumstances, she would've shaken her enchanted head at the unlikely duo, but she was still settling into reality and was looking for grounding.
Tony adjusted all he was carrying and looked down at Angela.
A movement off to the side caught Angela's eye, and she saw Michael and Heather walking down the main hallway toward them. Holding her breath, Angela watched as they held onto each other and laughed into their own little, moving huddle.
"Angela?" Tony asked gently, and her face slowly rose toward his. "Are you ready to leave?"
She looked back to Michael and Heather and saw Michael watching her. The exes stared at each other as Michael continued toward his destination, arms wrapped tightly around his bride.
"Angela?" she heard Tony try softly again.
Angela inhaled sharply and looked up at Tony holding her still-sleeping son.
The pounding of her heart started to quiet, and a small smile of gratitude fairly lit her face.
"I'm ready."
A/N: Angela's admission that Tony was the best thing that ever happened to her was from 'Tony for President', a bit later in Season 2. The show's words, not mine. But I'm okay if she'd known that for a while. ;)
Well, that's it, guys. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story. I don't know if I'll add more to it, but you know me - can't shut up for long. Anyway, thanks for all your support. Talking with you all about it ignites my creativity and soothes my heart. Blessings on your heads!
