A/N: Happy Belated Valentine's Day! Which of our couples are going to have sexytime in this chapter?
Chapter Twenty: Horizontal Mambo
Friday, February 13, 1987
"Where are we?" Mona asked, peeling one eye halfway open to search for clues in the nondescript guestroom of a national motel chain.
"What day is it?" Ricky asked in response, failing to lift his head from the lumpy pillow.
"Are we there yet?" Mona whined. She hadn't been prepared for how physically demanding it would be to pack up their home and drive for days on end. The trip was nearly thirty hours, and if they had pushed their pace, they could be waking up in Marietta by now. Not that her body would feel any better; it would probably be worse. They were on their last day, she realized. "We're in Jackson, Mississippi! It's Friday!" she informed her sleepy fiancé.
"That's right," he agreed. "At least we're not still in Texas." They had stayed in El Paso and near Fort Worth on their journey, and at times, it had felt like they were stuck in The Twilight Zone.
"Hey, you're talking to a Texan, bucky," she said sharply. "Well, not really. But I was born there."
"I still believe you fell from Heaven," he said sweetly. He made an attempt to scoot closer and was foiled by Libby using his stomach as a trampoline to get to Mona. "Oof!" he cried in surprise.
"I'll get dressed and take her for a walk," she volunteered. "You try to sleep a little longer."
It was a pleasant sixty degrees, and grassy areas surrounded their motel and its small, kidney-shaped pool. A pedestrian trail was worn next to the road, which lacked sidewalks. Libby sniffed the air and previously marked signposts before deciding where to do her business.
Angela put her hand on Wendy's arm to quash the incessant thanks and apologies. "It's no problem. Seriously. Jenny even has her own room here for the time being."
Tony had all three of the kids in the kitchen making sugar cookies to decorate after dinner. Jonathan's arm was still in the sling but he could use it for short periods. The following week, he would start physical therapy.
"My daughter is much too young to appreciate landing in Tony's bed," Wendy complained. "And you…you're living out my fantasy! Except for the pregnancy. I would never intentionally go through that again!"
Angela redirected her friend to the reason Jenny was staying with them. "You are about to go off for a romantic weekend with a great guy whom you really like."
"I know, I know. I should be thinking about Geoff. Tony is just a safe target for my unmet desires because I know he would never succumb to a married woman's advances or jeopardize his relationship with you."
"Oh? That's very insightful," Angela teased.
"I talked to Mona," Wendy explained. "It's been so long since I got laid. I'm afraid it won't go well. Is that stupid?"
"You have nothing to worry about! Just let him know you're nervous and need to take it slow," Angela suggested. Geoffrey really did seem like a good guy who genuinely wanted a relationship with Wendy. Her self-esteem had simply been worn down by years of Herb's neglect. It was a story Angela could relate to.
Wendy didn't agree but couldn't bear to reveal her fear that her boyfriend would be disappointed by her appearance or performance. "Would you look at the time? I really must be going. See you Sunday!"
A server came around with a tray of candles, setting one on each of the bistro tables as the dusk deepened. They had been able to snag seats by the window, where the people-watching was best. A small bowl of rosemary roasted Marcona almonds was rapidly dwindling between them.
"How was your workday?" Frankie asked, sipping her wine after sharing a flurry of complaints about the opposing counsel she'd just faced in court.
Michael swirled his cocktail thoughtfully. "Boring. So many phone calls and meetings. The best part of my day was AV Club." His mood lifted at the thought of the curious children with their imaginative questions.
"Oh, that's right!" she said, grasping his forearm across the table. "How did the lighting demo go this morning?"
"Honestly, some of the kids grasped the concepts as well as guys I worked with in the field. We were done early and I did a shadow puppet show for them while they ate." He turned his hand over and slid it back until they were holding hands loosely.
Frankie slapped her other hand against the table, causing her wine to slosh back and forth inside the glass. "You did? My mom used to make shadow puppets for me all the time when I was little."
Michael nodded. "I don't remember ever doing that with Jonathan. Maybe I can teach him, though. He could entertain his baby sister."
"That is such a sweet idea, babe. I love how you always consider your son's sisters." Hearing her own voice as foreign, she took a quick, nervous gulp. It was too early. She needed to evaluate a potential boyfriend in different settings over time before she could trust her feelings enough to say those three little words.
"Well, Tony covered for me with Jonathan for years. I kind of owe him. And Sam is a really great kid. I'm sure the baby will be, too." His mouth twitched with repressed emotion.
"What was that?" she asked, watching him bite his lip. "Are you jealous?"
"Not exactly. It's just that Angela and I always talked about having two kids, but I was such a lousy husband that it never happened."
"She cut you off?" she asked in disbelief. It was hard for her to imagine a woman rejecting him.
"No," Michael said with a chuckle, "she didn't cut me off, even after we separated. We just never tried to conceive again. It's for the best, though." If they had another child, there wouldn't have been room for both Tony and Samantha in the house. And without them, he wouldn't have met Frankie.
"Do you still want another?" She inhaled harshly under the heat of his gaze.
"Only with the right woman," he said, holding eye contact.
"Yeah, it's important to find the right person before you start a family," she agreed, feigning a casual attitude while her pulse raced.
"Hi Kelly, it's Dad. We made it to the rental. We'll probably go out later, so you want to give me a call back in the morning? We're looking forward to spending some time with the boys tomorrow night. Love you."
"My turn," Mona said, picking up the receiver, still warm from Ricky's touch.
"Micelli residence, who's calling, please?" a young girl answered.
"Mona Robinson. Is this the new housekeeper? How much work experience do you have?" she teased.
"It's Jenny Wittner!" the girl said seriously.
"Did they leave you alone?" Mona asked without concern.
Jenny didn't want the authorities to be called, so she set the record straight. "No, they're all here, but they're busy trying to feel Mrs. Micelli's baby kicking."
"If they had an ounce of patience, they could wait for her to come out and give them a roundhouse."
Jenny finally laughed. "Here's Mr. Micelli."
"Hey Mone. Did you make it?" Tony asked.
"All three of us are safe and sound in Marietta, Georgia."
Angela ripped the phone from Tony's hand. "Mother! I'm so glad you called."
"Why?" Mona asked flatly.
"I've been worried," Angela said. "About Ricky. Four days is a lot. I was expecting some kind of murder-suicide situation," she continued dryly.
"Believe it or not, we enjoyed the time together." It was mostly true. Mona hadn't felt so comfortable being around someone for long stretches since Robert.
"Good to hear," Angela said sincerely.
Geoffrey unlocked the guest suite, opened his suitcase, and started hanging his clothes. Wendy felt neglected. He'd barely looked at her since they got out of the Saab. "Isn't there something else you'd rather be doing?" she asked, sauntering over to the sole queen-sized bed. She struck an awkward pose, leaning away with one elbow holding her up and her fist under her chin.
"The sooner I hang these up, the fewer wrinkles they'll have. Would you like me to do yours?"
"No, I want you to do me," she whined.
"Oh, I thought we would unpack and change, have dinner, and see how the night goes." He was unsettled, but intrigued, by her forwardness. "The plan isn't set in stone," he said, turning his full attention to her.
Wendy considered Angela's advice. Maybe with another man, she would request sensitivity, but Geoffrey was burdened by too much of it. "I've been thinking about getting it on with you for the last forty-four days," she said bluntly. "After a very long dry spell," she added.
"I'm nervous," he admitted, sitting down on the bed. "I think—"
"You think too much," she finished, unzipping his pants and reaching in to cup him through his tighty-whities. He let a startled cry escape as she ran her thumb over the fabric.
"Wait! Can we just kiss for a minute? I'm not ready," he begged.
"Oh, I already figured out you're a grower," Wendy said nonchalantly, redirecting her efforts to his shirt collar. Once a couple of buttons were undone, she affixed her lips to his Adam's apple.
"Let me close the drapes!" he said in a high, strangled voice that made Wendy's lips buzz. "It's so bright." He re-fastened his pants as he stood up.
While he fiddled with the window coverings, she stripped to her bra and panties and got into bed. "I need your weight on top of me," she purred, throwing back the covers to reveal her lacy, red lingerie.
He looked over with a deep furrow in his brow. "Oh boy," he said under his breath, re-focusing on the dress and slip strewn across the floor.
"You should teach a class in giving head!" Frankie panted. Michael was in no position to respond at that moment, but his laugh caused her to gasp and arch in surprise. He pinned her hips with his forearm for the duration. A few minutes later, he took a well-deserved rest against the pillows and admired her as she pressed the back of her hands against her dewy forehead and rosy cheeks.
"You're gorgeous, Frankie," Michael said sincerely. "You know you always look extra beautiful when you're satisfied?"
"Smug son of a bitch," she said, turning on her side and smacking him on the shoulder. He playfully caught her bottom lip between his teeth and leaned further in to deepen the kiss. "Ah, but you have a right to be smug with a tongue like that," she sighed.
"You said I should teach. There are classes, actually. In California, at least. Mine was taught by this lesbian in a house in Topanga Canyon." He would share the story of the demonstration he'd watched another time.
"You went to a lesbian to learn how to please a woman? That's pretty smart."
"Thanks. It turns out women tend to ask for directions and men would rather not make it to their destination than admit they're lost."
"Oh, I figured you had a natural sense of direction," she said, nuzzling against his jaw.
"So did I, until about a year and a half ago. Heather refused to fake it like I'm assuming all my other girlfriends did."
"'All' your other girlfriends?" she mocked. "About how many are we talking here?"
He decided to be vulnerable and honest. If she couldn't accept his past, it was better to find out early on. "Um, three," he admitted sheepishly, "including my first wife."
"I meant all of the women you've gone to bed with, not just serious relationships."
"Frankie, you're the fifth woman I've slept with," he reiterated.
She covered her face in embarrassment. "Oh God, Michael. I wish I had known that. You must think I'm terrible for trying to take you home on our first date."
"I don't. Why would I? It was nice to be asked," he insisted, gently prying one hand free and threading his fingers between hers. She looked him in the eye, keeping the other hand on her reddened cheek.
"Well, now I understand why you wanted to go out for a while first. At the time, I thought you weren't attracted to me."
"Not attracted? To the one and only Frankie Candino?" he asked facetiously. "I was very attracted to you," he said, rolling her into his arms and kissing her.
She pushed herself up and hovered her face over his. "So, where is the one and only Michael Bower taking me tomorrow?"
"The Garden," he told her with a smirk.
She sat up on her knees holding the covers to her chest for warmth. "No way! You got Knicks tickets?"
"In the section where my dad used to sit. The Bulls are in town. It should be a good game."
She kissed him on the mouth and quickly made her way down his torso. "I'm so glad you aren't one of those guys with the flowers and the chocolate and the jewelry," she said, smooching randomly to emphasize each example. "It's so boring," she said, before licking a line from his navel downward.
"I'm glad you appreciate my gifts," he said, pulling a condom from the nightstand. He clutched the package as she worked him over and handed it to her wordlessly when he was ready to couple.
"Yes, please," she said, ripping it open.
At the white tablecloth restaurant next door to the B and B, Wendy kept hearing a familiar laugh. She didn't say anything and tried to ignore it, even giving herself a little peptalk when Geoffrey excused himself, "Get your shit together. You're hallucinating," she said to herself, chalking it up to extreme sexual frustration after her failed seduction attempt.
When Geoffrey came back from the restroom, he leaned over and whispered, "Is that your husband?" He recognized the man from a few family pictures that hadn't yet been removed from the house for Jenny's sake.
"What?" Wendy shrieked, turning around and facing Herb.
"Wendy?"
"Herb?"
"Um, this is my friend Sylvia."
"This is my lover, Geoffrey," Wendy announced loudly. She hoped it wouldn't be a lie much longer.
"With a G," he added.
"Sylvia, this is my ex-wife and her 'lover,' I guess," Herb said.
"Geoffrey, this is Herb and his 'friend,' I guess," Wendy said. "So, you're not staying at the Bellflower Inn, are you?" she joked.
Herb and Sylvia shared a worried look, and Wendy just knew.
"Sam? Are you ok, honey?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" the teen sniffled. "Just because Todd has a date with Trudy Gunther tomorrow? That cow!"
"I'm sorry, baby," Angela said, sitting on Sam's bed. "I know how rotten you must be feeling."
"I thought I meant something to that jerk!" she railed.
"Did he tell you he wasn't going to see anyone else?" she probed.
"No, we weren't going steady. But he said he had feelings for me! He must have lied so I wouldn't be so uptight."
Angela bristled at the implication. "About what?" she asked, trying to stay calm.
Sam sighed. "He wanted to feel me up. I only let him touch me over the shirt, though," she confessed.
"Oh, Samantha," Angela said with pity.
Tears began to flow again. "Are you mad at me?"
"No, honey." Angela reached for Sam's shoulder, and the girl shook off her touch.
"Are you disappointed in me?" she asked, looking down at her lap.
"No, and this is nothing to be ashamed of," she reassured her.
Sam looked up briefly and then back down. "Do you regret adopting me?" The family had appeared in court for all of ten minutes the day before, easily winning the approval of a kindly Family Court judge.
"No! Sweetheart, I could never regret that." Angela took Sam's narrow face between her palms and insisted she make eye contact. "I love you, no matter what, and I'm overjoyed that you're officially my daughter. I just wish you didn't have to deal with dumb boys trying to take advantage of you."
"Are you gonna tell Dad?"
"No," she promised, "but you're not going to let anything like that happen again until after you've had a talk with him."
"What?!" Sam cried. She wondered if she had said too much to her new mom. It was too soon to know how the legal endorsement would affect their relationship.
"If you feel mature enough to get physical with a boy, then you can certainly handle having a discussion with your father," Angela insisted.
"He's gonna send me to a convent!" she yelped. "Will you be there when we talk? As a witness?"
"Of course, honey. I won't let him do anything crazy."
Wendy and Geoffrey changed into pajamas and brushed their teeth before laying together in bed. He leaned over to kiss her goodnight and closed his eyes, beginning to drift off to sleep when the voices began. Then they got louder.
"Oh, God! You're so sensuous!"
"I'm really turned on!"
"So am I."
"You're an extremely competent lover!"
"Not as competent as you!"
"I can't believe your husband got the room next door!" Geoffrey complained, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling. "It sounds like they're having a really good time."
"She's faking it!" Wendy hissed. "So is he." Sleep was remote. She hadn't even closed her eyes.
"Are you sure you're not just jealous? I would understand if you were."
Wendy turned toward him. "Have you ever been with someone that loud?"
He turned on his side to mirror her. "Yes, I have," he said with a hint of pride.
"Well, I hate to break it to you, but she was faking it, too."
"How do you know?"
"I was married to Herb for twelve years. I'm an expert."
"So, he didn't satisfy you?" Geoffrey asked. "It's important that you know I'm very competitive and eager to learn."
"Really?" she asked excitedly.
"I'm even willing to pay damage charges," he half-joked.
"Yeah? Then get over here!" She stood on the bed and offered her hands to him. He stood up with a sly grin. "Uh…uh…uh!" she grunted, crossing her arms over her chest as she bounced on her toes. She shot him a gleeful glance.
"Oh, Wendy!" he cried, catching a bit of air. "You're astonishing," he yelled.
"Oh, Geoffrey! It's huge. I've never taken one this big!" she huffed.
Jumping on the bed was surprisingly tiring, and before long, they were kneeling on the mattress, coordinating their efforts to bump the headboard against the wall they shared with Herb and Sylvia. Their moans of faux pleasure intensified in the direction of their rivals. Then there was a rapid knock at the door. Geoffrey and Wendy both approached, still in their modest pajamas, but flushed, sweaty, and disheveled.
The night manager was wearing a cozy sweatsuit. Clearly, he hadn't expected to be called to duty. "We've had a noise complaint. Quiet hours are from eleven to seven each night."
"Oh, they are? Thank you for letting us know. We'll be mindful," Geoffrey apologized.
"Good night," Wendy said to the annoyed employee.
"Night," Geoffrey echoed. The night manager just shook his head like a disappointed father and shuffled away.
"We'll have to be extra careful the rest of our stay," he said, locking the door.
"I'm tired anyway," she bluffed. Worn out from the exertion? Yes. Sleepy? No, adrenaline still flowed through her veins.
Saturday, February 14, 1987
"Belgian waffles with whipped cream," Tony announced, pushing the bedroom door open with his foot and setting a tray over Angela's lap. She met his lips in a quick kiss. "For my two favorite girls."
"Two?" she asked. "I think you miscounted, Tony."
"Three!" he corrected, going around to Sam's side of the bed to serve her. "How was the slumber party?" he asked.
"Just what I needed," she answered. "Don't worry, I didn't keep Mom awake too late."
"You didn't, but your sister did," Angela informed her. "I might need a nap later."
"Jenny and Jonathan are together in the kitchen," Tony said. "I should get back there. In case they need anything."
"Happy Valentine's Day, Dad," Sam said.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Samantha."
Libby snored steadily in her little bed on the floor of the furnished rental, easily feeling at home wherever her people were. There was a small fenced yard where she could be let out to do her business instead of waiting to be leashed for a walk.
"Mornin', sugar," Ricky said, inviting Mona to lean into him. "I forget. Do you prefer diamonds or pearls?"
"That's a dumb question. I like both," she said.
"Oh, good. Because I got you these," he said, handing her a small velvet box.
She popped it open to find two pearls hanging from diamond-encrusted hoops by gold chains. "They're lovely. Thank you."
"You're welcome. Happy Valentine's Day."
"Same to you. How are you feeling?" she asked.
He rolled his shoulders and arched his back to test for stiffness. "Not fully recovered, but much better. Why?"
She kissed him on the cheek and whispered into his ear. "It's been a week since we did the horizontal mambo."
He reciprocated, digging his hand into her hair and pressing their cheeks together. "That it has. I'd love to put my name on your dance card."
"No need for advance planning," she murmured. "You're my favorite partner."
Madison Square Garden was buzzing with excitement. The concession lines were long, populated by thirsty men buying beers and women seeking out popcorn and sweets. They bypassed the opportunity and went into the arena, approaching the court. Finally, Michael pulled Frankie into a row. For a moment, she was confused. They couldn't possibly be sitting here.
"These are really good seats!" she said in surprise. "They must have cost a fortune!"
"I know they won't be wasted on you," he replied.
"Well, I'll take you to see the Mets. Now that my firm is representing the team, I can get box seats almost any time I want."
"So, you are planning to keep seeing me, at least until opening day," he teased.
"Maybe even until Arbor Day," she shot back. They took their seats in the fifth row and continued chatting, holding hands, and giving each other little kisses. It was Valentine's Day, after all.
Producers scanned the crowd for pairs to put on the Kiss Cam, which would be repeated each quarter instead of only once during the game. Many couples were in attendance, but they needed twenty or so presentable, sober, and courteous men. Nearly all women would clear the bar. The preference was for same-race duos of similar ages, who were clearly in a solid relationship, or at least in a good phase of their relationship. Nobody wanted to watch a couple fight, or worse, see an embarrassed father and daughter or brother and sister frantically signaling "no" at the camera.
"I haven't been to a game in years," Michael said. "It'll be great to see Patrick Ewing play."
"And Michael Jordan. He's actually from Brooklyn," Frankie informed him.
"Oh, I didn't know that."
"He's going to be a huge star," she predicted.
Angela, true to her word, did need a nap. She retreated to her bedroom and arranged a pillow behind her back, falling asleep within minutes and dreaming of Arizona.
Jonathan turned on the Knicks game. "My dad is at the game. Maybe we'll see him on TV," he told Jenny.
"Do you know how many people Madison Square Garden holds?" Sam asked rhetorically, while Tony tried to get her to pipe down so he could watch the game.
"Twenty thousand," Jonathan answered earnestly. "Look!"
Sure enough, Michael and Frankie were identifiable in the background of many plays. "They're practically courtside!" Tony said in awe. He wished he could splurge on Angela that way. Not for a basketball game, but for something she'd enjoy, like the ballet.
Sam was kind enough to explain the plays to the younger children, while Tony became deeply invested in the game. He wasn't a diehard fan, but it was an even matchup between the teams.
In the fourth quarter, Angela came downstairs feeling energized by her long nap. She would have to eat lighter and earlier in the evenings to avoid heartburn going forward. "Hello again, everyone!" she sang.
"Not now, Angela!" Tony snapped on behalf of himself and the kids. All four were on the edge of their seats watching Jordan's layup. She joined them on the couch.
"Who's that?" she asked, pointing unhelpfully at the screen.
"Michael Jordan," Sam replied.
Angela didn't know the name. "Is he on our team?"
"He's a Chicago Bull, Mrs. Micelli," Jenny said helpfully.
"Oh, that's too bad. He seems quite athletic," she said, not aware of the magnitude of her understatement.
"There's Daddy again," Jonathan said, bringing his mother up to speed.
"What?" Angela asked, snapping her head toward her son. Was "Daddy" a player's nickname?
"Michael took Frankie to the game," Tony explained.
"For Valentine's Day? That's not very romantic," she scoffed. "I thought he was becoming more considerate."
"She looks happy," he pointed out. From what he knew of her, she was probably thrilled.
A heart-shaped graphic frame appeared as the shot changed to the crowd.
"Oh, not the kiss cam again!" Jonathan whined. "Anyone need anything from the kitchen?"
"Could I have some milk?" Jennie asked.
The big overhead screens at The Garden showed Michael and Frankie leaning slowly toward each other and meeting in a sweet kiss. "Awww," Sam and Jennie said, along with thousands of fans. The couple broke apart beaming with joy.
"They both look happy," Angela observed. There was a familiar aura about her ex-husband. "He's in love," she said quietly.
"He told us that," Tony reminded her. He knew Michael was warming them up for the inevitable introduction of Frankie as his girlfriend.
"Yeah, but he also thought he was in love with Heather," she pointed out. "This is the real thing." Her son was going to develop a connection to another stepmother, she realized. Only this time, it would stick. Suddenly, she had a whole new appreciation for what Tony had been through with Jonathan.
"You're the cutest little guy I've met in a long time," Mona told Baldwin, as he sucked down his bottle. She could hear Ricky in the kitchen teaching Cory how to make béchamel for macaroni and cheese.
"When my grandson Jonathan was born, I didn't want to be a grandmother. I was young then. Even younger than I am now." Baldwin finished the last of his meal, and she set the bottle aside. "Do you think you can burp for me without spitting up?" she asked him, throwing a cloth over her shoulder.
"Jonathan didn't have a grandpa like you do. He barely had a father back then. And he didn't have a big brother like Cory, either."
The baby released a little air bubble. "That was perfect," she said, sitting him back on her lap. The boy was milk-drunk and content to gaze into her eyes and listen.
"Well, I got used to being a grandma, but I couldn't let go of the grandpa that Jonathan never knew."
Baldwin scrunched up his face and she stood rubbing his back in soft circles until another burp surfaced, along with something smellier from the other end. She sighed and laid him on the changing table.
"Jonathan got a new dad, and a big sister, and then his first dad came back," she continued, unsnapping the onesie. "Do you think you could share your grandpa with him, too?"
She held his ankles in one hand and cleaned him with a wipe. "I think it would only be fair, since Jonathan is sharing his grandma with you," she said, finishing the diaper change.
Cory looked in the doorway at his contented brother. "Could you sit here and hold him while I wash my hands," Mona asked. "It would be a big help."
"OK," he agreed.
When she returned, the boys were gazing lovingly at each other. She tiptoed past the nursery and found Ricky in the kitchen. "Quiet," she said, pulling him into the hallway. "Look."
"Grandpa, he fell asleep," Cory whispered in panic. "What do I do?"
Ricky took Baldwin and put him down in the crib. "Good job," he said, patting Cory on the back as they left the baby to slumber.
"Is your dad going to get married?" Jenny asked, poking at her ice cream sundae, special made by her "date" for the evening.
"I don't know," Jonathan shrugged, looking into the fire.
"If he does, can I come?" she asked.
He squinted in suspicion. "Why?"
"Weddings are beautiful, and you get to eat cake," she told him.
"Oh yeah," he said. Cake made any party worthwhile. "Well, you can come to my dad's wedding if I can come to your mom's."
"My mom and dad aren't going to get divorced."
"That's what I used to think when I was a kid."
Each of the children dug into their desserts, rather than continue the awkward conversation.