A/N: You guys! Oh my gosh! I am stunned. Thank you for all the kind words and appreciation for this. I can't wait to take you to all the places this journey is planned to go.
Nice to meet you, where you been?
I could show you incredible things
Magic, madness, heaven, sin
Saw you there, and I thought
"Oh my God, look at that face…"
- Blank Space / 1989 Era / Taylor Swift
"Is it too late to change my vote? "
"Yes." Angela nodded as she stepped past Jonathan and headed up to her room with a cacophony of emotions and thoughts swirling in her head like an uncontrollable hurricane. She made it to her room and shut the door, leaning her back against it and hugging the towel to her chest. As her brown hazel eyes closed and she filled her lungs with a deep inhale, she silently counted backward from 100. What had her mother been thinking? A male housekeeper? Angela's long fingers came up to massage her temple in slow, deep circles. She'd agreed at the insistence of her son, but knew that there would inevitably be a long process of background research and calls to verify the facts that her mother had acquired. Her mother was a good woman most of the time, but Mona was not known for attention to detail when it came to men other than their physical attributes which this Tony wasn't lacking in. He wasn't the typical type of man that caught Angela's eye when she would be out with her single friends, but the simple, undeniable fact was that any woman would see the desirability of him with those dark eyes, that wide smile, broad shoulders, large hands with thick digits. She'd deny it if she was ever asked but for a brief second, when her mother had mentioned Samantha, Angela had been disappointed at the idea of him having a wife, and then had been soothed by the knowledge that the female in question was his daughter. She wasn't sure what to make of that.
Not that she was opposed to Samantha. The girl seemed sweet enough, if a little rougher around the edges than Angela would've liked. What concerned her the most was the fact that she had been bothered by the mere idea that this attractive man who was vying for a position working in her home had been married. She wasn't looking to date the man, wasn't planning to even have a brief, meaningless affair with him, so why of all the things that she could've learned was that the one that she couldn't let go of? Why had the immediate relief of knowing he was single impacted her so much?
She shook her head, cursing herself for wasting time on this frivolous wondering and locked her door. She had to finish getting dressed for work and had to leave for the train. If her mother and this Tony wanted to take the kids to school, then she'd let them. She needed the time to be able to get to the train before it left. She pulled a black business suit from her closet, removed her robe and pulled on the matching black bra to the panties she was already wearing. Black sheer pantyhose, black pumps, and a white button-down all completed the outfit and after pulling her hair up into an upsweep with combs and pins, she was ready to go. She applied a light face of makeup, then gave one final spray of Aqua Net to her hair before she was opening the door and heading down the stairs. She could hear her mother giving Tony the rundown of things in the kitchen and she strode into the room with purposeful struts, the sharp click of her heels announcing her impending arrival. She pushed open the door and forced a tight smile as he turned around and braced himself on the sink next to her mother who was gesturing to the cabinetry. "Well, I'm off. I'll grab coffee at the office. Mother, please make sure Jonathan gets to school on time. Mr., uh, Micelli?"
The man nodded and grinned, "Yeah, yeah. Um, call me Tony. Mr. Micelli was my pops."
She nodded once then licked her lips. "Right, Tony. You may want to take Samantha to the school. They can properly enroll her since it appears you'll be…" she waved her hand back and forth in a nondescript arc of indifference, "Uh… staying for a while."
"Angela?" Her mother's voice pulled her attention away from him and she turned to look at her ginger haired parent, doing her best not to clench her jaw too tight. "I'm going to give Tony a tour of the house, maybe help him clean out the sewing room for Samantha. Where can we put the stuff that's in there?"
Angela pursed her lips, took a deep sigh and ran her palms down the front of her skirt, willing herself to not get flustered at the idea of not being present when her items and house would be gone through and packed up. She liked to maintain control. This was her home, these were her things, and to have someone who wasn't herself moving them around and rearranging was a little further outside her comfort zone than she would've liked. "The garage will be fine. I can sort through it all later. Goodbye, Mother." She leaned down and pressed a kiss to her son's forehead. "Have a good day at school, sweetheart."
Tony stayed silent through their family interactions, observing each and every moment and, at sensing Angela's discomfort with the idea of them doing all the work without her, resolved to be extra mindful and careful of the belongings and spaces they'd be handling. He'd already assured Mon that the tour of the home could wait for after Jonathan was at school, one less child to be in their way while moving whatever needed to be moved and while rearranging the rooms to fit their needs. He grinned as Angela pressed an affectionate kiss to her son's head. It was evident that he was the center of her universe. She adored him. On the other hand, seemed to be more reserved and separated from his mother. Mona had once mentioned that Jonathan needed a male role model in the house and her son seemed keen on the idea that he be that figure.
"Well, Mr. Mi- Tony…." Mona grinned and purred his name at him and rubbed her hands together. It was evident that Mona would be a handful. She might even be worse than the Benedetti twins. Tony nodded at her, his lips parting in a slow smile as she tilted her head, "Shall I show you upstairs?" He chuckled and gestured to the kids with a smirk, "Aye oh, not in front of the kids, Mone." She giggled as she slapped his chest then nodded to Jonathan, "Come on, kiddo. We best get you to school. Angela is right though, Tony. We should get the information to enroll Samantha." He tugged on the lapels of his blazer and nodded to his daughter. "Great time to get a shiner, Sam. This will be fun to explain to the new school." Their voices echoed out of the kitchen and to the front door and the ragtag group headed out to the blue van parked in the street.
Angela glanced down at the simple gold Bulgari watch on her wrist as she walked up the front walkway, turned her key and entered the front door. She paused at the silence and narrowed her eyes. Jonathan should be home from school by now and her mother would be following the new housekeeper around like some lost, little pup if she wasn't at her own college courses. Angela had been skeptical at best when she had left the house that morning. After a few well placed phone calls and research on her lunch hour, Angela felt mildly more at ease with the idea. She had followed up on the calls her mother had made, even going so far as to call in a favor with the HR head at Wallace and McQuade to have them look into him. Everything, every heartbreaking detail, that her mother had shared with her was true. He'd lost his wife in May of 1980, leaving him widowed with his daughter and still on the road playing baseball with the St. Louis Cardinals. The head of Y in Brooklyn had said glowing things about him and even referred her back to the head of his church who had backed everything that everybody else had said.
It appeared she owed him an apology for being so doubtful about him, even if it had just been out of caution for both her son and herself. She hung her briefcase and purse on the coat tree in the foyer, and hung her jacket on top of the purse strap as she strode toward the kitchen and froze as she opened the door. She blinked in stunned silence as Jonathan looked up from the table and smiled at her, with his school books spread in front of him and a notebook open. "Hi Mom!" Angela opened then closed her mouth once, twice, three times before being able to speak. "H-hi, sweetheart." She stepped in and ran her hand in a gentle caress over the top of his head. "What's all this?" She gestured toward the books.
"My homework. Tony has been busy moving stuff upstairs and he told me I'd be safer working in here."
Angela nodded in a dazed stupor. She had tried for years to get Jonathan to sit down and do his homework in the kitchen instead of at the living room coffee table or in his room. She headed up the stairs and toward the sewing room, poking her head in and smiling at Samantha. The girl looked up from her Babysitter's Club book and waved.
"Hi, Mrs. Bowers."
Angela chose to ignore that the little girl kept adding an 's' to end of her name. That would fix itself sooner or later on its own. "Hello, Samantha.. And please, it's Angela." She stepped further into the room, looking around the space to track the changes that had been made. Once again, she was finding herself floored. Minimal changes had been done to the room, aside from rearranging the furniture. The sewing room had always been a sort of make-shift guest room; one that she'd often used when things with Michael were tense after an argument. She sat on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap as she shrugged awkwardly. "Are you getting comfortable in here?"
"Oh yeah! It's real nice! Dad already helped me unpack and I start school tomorrow. I'm real excited. The baseball field looks so big."
Angela's smile was immediate and genuine as the girl gushed about her new school. Her energy was infectious and it wasn't long until Angela was feeling the same exuberance. "Well, if there's anything I can do to help you or anything…" She licked her lips and glanced at the door then looked back to her. "Where's your father? Or my mother?"
"Mona said she had to go to some class or something. Dad's, uh… I think in his room unpacking?"
Angela cleared her throat and stood up, fixing her skirt and fidgeting with her nails. She turned and headed out of the room, heading to Tony's room and gave a knock on the door frame, waiting for his consent before she opened the door. He was hanging various flannels and button downs into the closet. His smile was warm and inviting as he turned with his hands on his hips, the white t-shirt clinging to his arms and chest doing very little to hide his masculine form, though his denim was looser which she silently thanked every deity in the heavens for. The last thing she needed to see was more of his body than she already could. She cleared her throat as she lifted her eyes to his face, and returned his grin. "I'm just… checking in." An awkward giggle slipped her lips as she chewed on the corner of her lower lip then sighed. "Do you need anything?"
Tony scoffed and gestured at the room, the dressers, the closet and shook his head. "Are you kidding? This is a palace compared to the pullout I've been sleeping on. I uh, didn't need to move much to get Sam settled in so there's no boxes in the garage. Do…" he stepped toward her and pointed at her, "Do you need me for something?"
"Oh no! No. No no." She held her hands up and took a step back, her neck flushing as she clasped her hands in front of her. "I should… I have dinner with a client and my boss so I should go change." She glanced at her watch, her eyes widening at how little time she had before Grant would arrive. "I really have to go. If you do have something you need, my mother can make sure she gets it for you." She slipped from his room, closing the door behind her and rushed into her room, refreshing her hair with some heated curlers and Aqua Net, and reviewed her wardrobe, opting for a black dress with a revealing back. She removed her suit and bra, then slipped into the black velvet dress with sequins in strategic spots, giving her a little sparkle. She hadn't worn her wedding ring in months, but experience had been a brutal bitch in more than one scenario where she'd been propositioned by a client when she'd been without it, and she had made her mind up that she'd never go into a meeting bare handed again.
She slipped the two rings onto her left finger, studying them momentarily and sighing. In every aspect, except on paper, she and Michael Bower were over. She'd sent the papers to the last address she had for him, even had a spare copy in her home study if he ever showed up at the house again. She'd signed both copies. She just needed his signature and she could wash her hands of the man. She finished getting ready, taking her curls down, teasing the root a bit then fluffing them with her fingers and combing through them to soften them. She sprayed her hair again, then applied a light coat of lipstick and headed out. After pressing a quick kiss to Jonathan's sandy brown hair, Angela headed out the door and out to Grant's waiting Mercedes.
She could count on one hand the number of times she'd been as mad as she was at this very second with her hands trembling as she gripped them into tight fists. "I'm going to kill him. Oh my God." She wasn't planning on anything more than a few heated kisses, maybe a little heavy petting in her study or the kitchen, but nothing that would've embarrassed her or Grant or anyone else who might've walked in; at least, not until Tony had barged in completely shirtless with that ridiculous baseball bat. She had ended things as quickly as she could, separating the men and sending them to their own spaces to cool down. Disappointment washed over her like a tsunami wave as she thought about Grant's comment as he had left. She'd worked damn hard to catch Grant Paxton's eye and now that she'd just started to taste the nectar of her rewards, it was ruined by a rogue Brooklyn Italian with a chiseled chest and tight sweatpants that had done nothing to hide his toned body. She hated herself for even noticing it after everything.
"No, I can't kill him. Even if I wanted to, I hate myself in orange so I can't."
She stomped her foot in frustration, damn near breaking the heel on her shoe completely off. "Perfect. Just what I needed." She scoffed and set them aside, making a mental note to take them to the cobbler in town to repair them. She began to strip herself free of her clothing in quick, harsh tugs and shoves, even punching through her pantyhose with her short nails, leaving a large run as she pulled them off. "Son of a bitch." She muttered softly and dropped them into the garbage pail carelessly. What the hell else could go wrong tonight? She tossed her panties and bra into the hamper and slipped into her navy blue silk nightgown then crawled into bed, leaving her matching robe at the bottom of her bed. She fluffed her hair out on the pillow and huffed as she stared at the ceiling, hands crossed on her chest, and attempted to will herself to sleep.
It was slow to come. She tried everything she could that didn't involve leaving the cocoon of her bed: counting sheep, deep breathing, meditation, counting all the ways she could engineer revenge upon Tony and how difficult it would be to hide the body afterward. Nothing seemed to work for her. At 2 am, sleep finally having pulled her into its grasp, she was awoken with a sharp knock on her door. She let out a petulant sob and whine then climbed out of bed and pulled her robe on. She stumbled to her bedroom door and opened it, while sighing in a sleepy, low tone. "Did you have a bad dream, sweetie?"
"No, I didn't even get to sleep."
It was like a bucket of ice water being dumped onto her head. God damn him. Didn't he know she was trying to force herself to sleep? She clenched her jaw for a moment as she closed her robe and pushed her hand through her hair. "It's you. I thought it was Jonathan."
"Well, don't take this like an apology or anything but I guess I screwed up a little tonight."
She was too tired and in too foul a mood that had been caused by the man standing in front of her to have this conversation. The last thing she needed was for a complete stranger to start offering her free unsolicited advice on how to manage her life and personal affairs. Barely restrained frustration began to fill her veins as this man, who had no experience in the job he was now doing in her home, was offering her guidance on how to proceed in her career that she'd been successfully navigating on her own for the last 11 years. Who does he think he is? This guy is an absolute pain in my ass. I'm going to maim mother for even recommending him for this job. She resisted the urge to massage her temples and instead fixed him with her best board room stare. She was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions and doing whatever she wanted. She'd fought long and hard to have the ability to call the shots in her own life. She'd sacrificed her marriage, which hadn't ended up being that painful of a sacrifice, and time with her son, which had been painful. Irritating, insufferable man. "Tony, I'm gonna say this very slowly. My weekend has nothing to do with my promotion."
"You'll never know unless you don't go." Tony grinned smugly as he braced one hand on the door frame and leaned toward her. He hadn't even been here a full 24 hours yet, and already the woman was driving him crazy. This Grant bozo had been all over her on the floor and instead of appreciating that he was stepping up to protect her and her son, and her reputation, he'd been sent to his room like he was some punky teenager. He hadn't slept once he'd gotten to his room. He'd laid there, tossing and turning, had paced the floor, all of it for naught. He had finally gathered enough confidence to approach her and once again, was met with the Ice Queen, as her mother had called her while giving him the tour. She hadn't seemed frigid that morning, but now, in her revealing blue night gown, he couldn't help but see that element of her.
"Who are you anyway, Jiminy Cricket?"
Her almond eyes met his as she took a deep breath to restrain herself. He carried on with the speech he'd been cobbling together in his room. It was the whole reason he'd even bothered waking her up and he wanted to get it out, even if she smothered him in his sleep for it later. By the time his head returned to his pillow, he felt at peace, comforted at the knowledge that he'd said what he wanted to say as eloquently as he could. He maybe didn't have the lofty words and education she had, but he knew what he was talking about. He drifted off to sleep as the words to the familiar Sinatra tune played through his mind like a timeless Brooklyn lullaby.
Across the hall, the sleepless night continued.
Once she'd closed the door and sat back down on her bed, she took a deep breath and looked up to the lacy edging on the canopy of her four poster bed. Her fingers knit together in her lap as she fluttered her lashes and fought against the tears that were rimming the edges of her eyes. The big jerk was right. She hated to admit it but he had a point. She'd maintained her integrity, had maybe flirted occasionally but had never compromised herself before, and she'd managed to build a successful career based on her skills and experience. That was something she could say as fact now. Would it still be if she went away with Grant to his house upstate?
Her eyes slipped shut as one lone tear slipped free and tracked down her temple, dropping free from her skin and falling to the blue silk below. Her hands came up to cover her face as she crumpled to the pillow, muffling the sounds of her whimpers and cries behind her palms. Things had changed since Michael had left and she supposed that this was yet another example of how desperately she wanted to prove that she'd made the right choice by standing firm on her decision to choose her career over her marriage. Even with the choice made and Michael gone, it appeared to still be something she'd continue to wrestle with. Minutes felt like hours and by the time she pressed a cold compress to her bloodshot eyes, she had to admit that she still wasn't sure what she was going to do about going upstate. She hated to admit it but for the first time, in a very long time, Angela had no idea what her next move was going to be.
The next morning and early afternoon hadn't gone much better for her and she loathed herself for reciting the damn lyrics to Grant in a mirrored performance of the one Tony had given her in her upstairs hallway. She knew she'd been difficult with him at the breakfast table. The lack of sleep and still raw emotion hadn't given her much capacity to handle him needling her about it at the table in front of their children. It had been easier to fight with him than to admit he was right. She'd insisted that what she wanted was to go away with Grant. He'd called her on it and the vicious cycle would start all over. She'd sat silent and brooding on the way to the train station and then hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to him. She'd simply rushed to catch her departure, cursing him the entire way under her breath for aggravating her to the point of an impending headache.
Much later after several cups of coffee, three extra-strength Tylenol, and a brief cat nap in her locked office on her lunch break, she felt better and guilty once again. For once in her life, she actually had someone who seemed to want to offer advice and insight; helpful, constructive advice and insight at that. She didn't know why it was so hard for her to accept his help, advice, all of it. She scoffed as she glanced at her watch in the cab on her way home and rolled her eyes at herself. That wasn't true. She did, in fact, know why it was so hard for her. He didn't fit into the nice, neat box that she needed him to. He was messy in all the ways she didn't need him to be. It would've been so much easier if he was just a housekeeper and not an attractive, well-meaning, genuine nice guy that seemed to want to actively support the people around him. Her mother would've encouraged her running away with Grant that night in the kitchen. She bobbed her head to the side and raised her eyebrows. Hell, she would've told me to do the deed in the living room if it would help the promotion. Tony had insisted, in his own way, that she needed to respect herself more than that, and that had made her conversation with Grant more uncomfortable than she had wanted it to be.
Still, she'd held her ground and when Grant called the emergency meeting for the board, she'd been both exhilarated and terrified that by the end of the day, she'd know the answer on what her future at Wallace and McQuade would be. She paid her taxi fare and headed up to door, entering in time to watch Tony do a few repetitions lifting the sofa while vacuuming. She had to admit it was a first for her to catch the housekeeper using her furniture as exercise weights. A small part of her mind, one that sounded suspiciously like her mother, encouraged her to stand and watch for a few moments longer. He glanced up at her. Caught. Damn it. After she'd explained her early return, and had finally admitted that he was right and that she wasn't going away with Grant. Less than 10 minutes later, changed into a pink leotard and her matching sweatsuit, she'd leapt into his arms as he told her she'd gotten the job.
It hadn't been something she expected, but the minute his hands closed around her, holding her securely to him, she'd felt an electric jolt down her spine strong enough to rip her out of his arms. She'd never felt anything like that before. She reached for Jonathan as he ran towards her and deemed it was time to celebrate. "How about some hoops?"
Tony's voice cut through the din of excitement and she looked at him with a skeptical grin. "Is that your answer for everything?" It appeared that his outlet was the polar opposite of hers. While she chose to unwind and relax with candles, bubbles, and a soothing bath, it was evident he preferred physical outlets like exercise, sports, and, well, she doubted that his social life was lacking with those muscles and bright smile. There would have to be some ground rules established. That was the big takeaway that she had from the last 24 hours. It wouldn't be all bad though. Maybe her mother was right. Having a hunk for a housekeeper could be a lot of fun. She spoke to him without breaking eye contact, "Well, mine is a hot bath and a cold glass of champagne." She didn't even look back as she and her son left to begin their own type of celebrations, leaving Tony and Samantha behind. She couldn't help but hope that the idea of her in the tub would linger in his mind.
I got a little thing I call self control
'Cause I get a little crazy
When I let too much go
Love's a little messy and you are too
- Welcome Distraction / Unreleased /Taylor Swift