She walked into the room and stopped, surveying him a moment longer. When she spoke her voice made him scramble, the cucumbers falling to the floor. "Enjoying Phoebe's ministrations?"
His hands tried to catch the cucumbers. "Uh, sh-she's not...my - I was just resting."
An interior door swung open and Alison walked in. "Monica?"
Monica spun. "Alison," she answered, sounding as displeased as she looked. "Tell me you're not my husband's masseuse."
She shrugged apologetically. "I'm your husband's masseuse. Don't worry, we're just friends," she added. Her smile wavered as her eyes found the cucumbers on the floor. "Well, looks like I need to get more than the lotion! Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, I'll be right back." She turned and walked out of the room.
Chandler turned to face Monica's wrath. "This is all innocent," he tried to assure her.
"Really?"
"Yes. I swear."
She nodded slowly and suddenly smiled. "Alright, well, I suppose this is the perfect time to tell you about Richard."
"What, uh, what about him?"
"We went dancing the other night, just me and him," she lied. "But it was all perfectly innocent." She slapped him on the shoulder and left the room, leaving him standing there feeling alone and insecure.
She hurried down the hall and bumped into Phoebe. "Oh, Monica! Good, you're here."
"Actually, I'm just leaving."
"No, please stay. I need you here. It's important, okay?"
"Uh...sure."
"Thanks." Phoebe skirted down the hall, disappearing into Room 17.
"Hey, Mon!" Joey said, emerging from the balcony door. "What're you doin' here?"
"Just...bouncing back and forth between my friends, trying to see them all." She shook her head, crossing her arms. "This vacation sucks."
"I know. But the hotel is fun. Hey, come swimmin' with me."
"Nah, I didn't bring a bathing suit."
Joey smiled. "Well, you don't need a bathing suit."
Monica withdrew. "I'm married to your friend and you're dating mine. Just tell me where the freaking bar is."
"Okay, okay! It's this way." He led her toward the doors that led to the pool.
Alone in Room 17, Phoebe dialed Ross and Rachel's phone number and waited for an answer. It finally came. "Hello?"
"Phoebe, it's Ross. No, I mean, it's Phoebe! Damn it. Listen, I...I don't want this whole thing between Rachel and me to keep you away. You're my friend, too. Can you come over for like an hour? ...Great. Thanks." She hung up and, without conscience awareness, an evil smile crept across her face.
"The time is near," she breathed. She left the room on floating feet. After the lonely walk past the first sixteen rooms and across the spacious lobby, she pushed past the double doors and waited for Ross to arrive. He pulled up in a shiny blue Corvette. Ross got out and turned on the alarm, causing the car to light up all over. He walked toward her.
"Jeez, Ross, how many cars do you have?"
He looked ashamed. "Five," he said meekly.
Phoebe's mouth hung open. "Um, I'm confused. How many of those can you drive at once? God, Ross, you're like the...prince of Paris!"
"Yeah," he giggled.
She stared at him, the judgment clear in her eyes. Upon seeing it there, he sobered.
"Hey, what'm I supposed to do, sell the cars and have more money?" he insisted. "I'm sorry, but it's...it's gotta go somewhere."
"A charity would be nice," she mumbled. Then her eyes lit up. "I got it! I'll start a fundraiser! And it would just mean the world to me if you convinced Rachel to donate."
"Phoebe - if Rachel donates money to your cause, I will ride Pegasus."
Phoebe shrugged and draped an arm around him, pulling him toward the pool. "Well, speaking of Rachel, I have some news. You know her little sister Amy?" She pushed open the door and followed him through.
"Oh, God, you're kidding," Ross said, as they continued walking a few seconds later. "This is an outrage! Poor Rachel."
"Poor Rachel? Nuh-uh, what about me?"
"Yeah, poor you, Phoebe! What he did is wrong!" Ross said hastily.
"Yeah...Don't tell her, okay? She should hear it from a woman."
Ross looked at her face and only saw compassion, overlooking the antipathy in her eyes. Seeing Monica and Joey at the bar, they joined them. "I can't believe Mike sank so low," Phoebe railed on, greatly exaggerating her pain. "To cheat on me is one thing - but with my friend's sister?"
"So you are still friends!" Monica interrupted.
Phoebe looked at her and gave a half smile. "Oh, I can't stay mad at her," she said, as if just coming to the realization. She looked at Monica. "Maybe I was being petty," she sighed, trying to sound like she was confessing the truth. "Do you think she and I could gang up on 'im?"
"Oh, absolutely," Monica answered. "You should wring his scrawny little neck!"
"Wait, what's goin' on?" Joey asked cluelessly.
"Mike got Rachel's little sister pregnant," Ross informed him.
Phoebe stared at the counter, feeling Joey's hand touch her back. "Pheebs, I'm sorry."
She looked up at her three friends. "Well, you're not as sorry as Mike will be," she stated. "Ross, I'm afraid I need to go back to The Big Orange."
He overlooked her error. "Yeah. Yeah, I understand. I couldn't agree more."
"I could," Chandler said from behind. They turned to watch him quizzically watching them.
Phoebe stood. "No, I need to pack."
Ross' voice stopped her a few steps away. "Wait, what about Rachel?"
"Oh, I'll say goodbye," she assured him. "Yeah, don't worry." She turned and strode into the hotel.
Yes, she thought cynically. She had a lot to say to Rachel.
-0-0-0-0-
Phoebe was folding her clothes by the time Monica materialized in the open doorway. She knocked softly on the frame. "Hey. So you're leaving soon, huh?"
"Divorce awaits," Phoebe said cryptically.
"Well...Ross wants you in the Corvette with him. The rest of us will follow by cab."
"It's only got two seats?"
"Yeah."
"Alright," Phoebe said hesitantly.
"We'll meet you at Ross and Rachel's place."
Phoebe nodded and Monica ducked from the room. All by herself, Phoebe mechanically continued to pack, and in her mind she visualized the ideal concatenation of her revenge. The irony that her revenge did not touch Mike was not lost on her. While it pained her to think of deliberately hurting an old friend, she knew settling the score would feel undeniably good. The friends didn't know this, but time had changed Phoebe, and she was now a strong advocate of getting even.
She had been planning and preparing for days. Tonight, she would finally get the monkey off her back. She would feel guilty, she knew, but it had to be done.
Phoebe closed her suitcase and pulled it off the bed, letting herself out of Room 17.
The friends didn't notice she had arrived until she dropped the keys on the surface of the front desk. Ross swept her into the conversation as if she had been beside him all along. "You're going to love my Corvette, Pheebs, it's so smooth." He rambled in full boast mode while she nodded and tried to look attentive. Inside, her mind was a turbulent vortex of tumult. Mike cheated - her friends all knew - and at least two of them were spoiled and vain. And she had to sit in a luxury car? How hypocritical, she told herself; and she told herself this even when the modern efficiency of the sleek car impressed her.
And she enjoyed every moment of that ride.
Walking after Ross into the elegant mansion, she was left breathless by its beauty. The crystal chandeliers reflected the interior lights and sparkled colorfully. The floors were laminated. The carpets were pristine. The windows were huge. And the plants were so beautiful and so...alive. Neither ripped, nor shortened. The sweet scent of their blossoms pleased her senses.
"Rachel?" Ross called, and she came walking down the hall.
"Hey, guys..." Her voice trailed off when she noticed Phoebe, who was suddenly walking past Chandler, past Ross. She kept walking, stopping in front of Rachel.
"I need to tell you something," Phoebe said emotionlessly. "But you might want to sit down."
Rachel looked curious, but nodded. "Okay," she murmured, and led her friends (and Phoebe) into the kitchen. She sat, curling her hand around a tall glass of water. Expectantly, she looked at Phoebe. "Is something wrong?"
"Yes! Yes, something is very wrong."
"Oh, God, what is it?"
"Um, you remember my husband Mike?"
Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you know, it does ring a little sort of bell."
"'Kay, well, um, there's no easy way to tell you, but - he got Amy pregnant."
"Amy?" Rachel demanded. "My Amy?"
"Yes."
Rachel let out a long breath she didn't know she was holding, her free hand pressed to her heart. "Wha-Why wouldn't she tell me? Oh, she is so dead!"
"Well, I thought you should know," Phoebe said sweetly. "I mean, seeing as how the rest of us did already."
All the friends all jerked in response, staring at Phoebe in horror.
"What?" Rachel finally snapped.
"Doesn't feel good, does it?" Phoebe responded.
Rachel was silent for so long Phoebe thought she wouldn't answer. Her cheeks were red and she wouldn't meet her eyes. Phoebe watched her slyly; feeling guilty, sad, and totally, completely triumphant.
Finally Rachel lifted her head and said impassively, "Okay, I had that coming."
Phoebe couldn't help but smile. "So? You want to kick his ass with me?"
Rachel slowly nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Pheebs, let's go to New York."