I began posting this somewhere else, but never got much of a response to it. I'm gonna give it a try over here and see what comes of it this time. I admit it- I'm a feedback slut! The more I get the happier I am. :angel2: So please comment- whether it be good or bad. How can a writer ever improve without a little criticism?

First all the formal stuff- I do not own any of the guys in this story... well, except Jason, Craig, Ryan, etc. But any of the four essential men are not my creation- the blame for that goes to their parents, I guess. All other characters- Micheala, Nikki, and Monica- are the product of my own twisted mind.... or entirely too often are based on their real life counterparts.

For the record, Orlando, Elijah, Dom, and Billy are not factually accurate in relation to their real life counterparts- because this is FICTION and I can make them do whatever the heck I like. There was never a filming of LOTR in New Zealand and they know each other from other things.

My judgement tells me that if this were a movie, it would probably receive an "R" rating because of the language. This is the way people talk to each other (well, at least my friends and I) and I'm going for realism here, no cutsie mushy stuff. Aside from that though, if you're looking for any hot and steamy sex scenes, you won't find them here. It's not really my forte as far as writing style (AKA- I suck at it, no pun intended) and I don't think it's essential to the story.

I'll post the first few chapters for now and see how it goes. Enjoy- I hope!

Through Nikki’s Eyes

I look up briefly as I hear the jingle of keys in the front door. My roommate’s smallest cat excitedly runs towards the front door as I go back to browning ground beef for the gourmet Hamburger Helper I decided to make for dinner, since I decided against making lasagna.

Sure enough little Strider is right as his owner bursts through the front door like Jack out of his box. Her purse flies across the loft’s spacious living room. “If I ever set foot back in that place again,“ keys fly in another direction, “I may just kill someone.”

A small meow from the floor does not stop the short redhead’s tirade as she plops down on the armchair near the door. “Someone forgot to tell those jackasses… get off you damn shoe,” one chunky heeled boot flies at the front door. Strider scampers for cover under the chair “… that I am one person and not ten.” The other boot sails towards the entertainment stand, narrowly missing the corner. “And if one more god damn request shows up on my desk from the morning show, I will pull the plug on their shitty show myself.”

Out of steam, she slumps over in the chair sideways. Strider bravely pokes his head out and climbs into her lap.

I turn down the stove, set down my wooden spoon, and step away from the kitchen island. “Gee, Micheala so glad to finally see you home. Wow Nikki nice to see you, too. How was your day? Oh, mine was wonderful! That’s great! And look, Strider is so happy to see his mama even though she tried to behead him.” I sit down slowly on the side of the couch nearest my roommate.

Micheala looks sideways at me, “Was I that bad?”

Our third roommate, Monica thunder downs the staircase next to the kitchen. “Who the hell is tearing down the house?”

Micheala lazily waves her left hand at Monica. “Sorry Mon, that was me.”

Monica opens the refrigerator for a berry Cosmopolitan wine cooler. “That bad, chicasita?”

“Oh, the server connection to the ad provider went down at ten o’clock and I couldn’t get any spots I needed for drive time until it came back up after two. Dave stayed on-air until almost eleven and then had a list of 18 new promo spots that he wanted for tomorrow’s show- half of which needed material from today’s show. The fucker had the nerve to call at four to ask if they were ready yet. I had to leave five of them for Jake to do tonight.” Strider climbs Micheala’s side to give her kisses before lying down to purr himself to sleep. “Hey Bubba,” she begins petting the kitten.

I stand back up to check on dinner. “It’s just a job Cheala… leave it at the office. You don’t see me bringing my work home.”

Monica surveys the living room furnished and decorated with objects from the furniture store I work in. “No, Nik, We just sit and sleep on products from your job.”

I shake a greasy wooden spoon at the 5’3” black girl at the kitchen counter. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Too bad. I have the other five spots for tomorrow in my bag to finish tonight and send over to Jake on the server- if it’s still working. And hell followed me home,” concludes Micheala.

“I thought home was hell,” I snicker.

“No, home has been perfect ever since I told Patrick to hit the road… and then he had to call while I was driving home.”

Monica’s bottle clinks on the counter as she sets it down. “What did horny boy want?”

Micheala shifts Strider to her lap and sits up to see us in the kitchen. “The same and only thing he wanted for ten months- sex. And ‘Mike, we had such a good thing going, why did you suddenly change your mind?’” She impersonated her ex-boyfriend. “It took him four months to come up with that original line and try to get me back?”

I cannot help but laugh again. “That’s Patrick thinking with his penis. I never was sure which brain was in control there.”

“There’s only one brain period and it hides behind a zipper,” Monica adds.

That brings a small smile to Micheala’s face. “Ooh, look the white girl is trying to be funny.”

Micheala earns herself a double middle finger salute from Monica for that jab. “You little cow.”

“Mooooo…” Monica and I proclaim in unison.

She stands and sets the kitten back in the chair. “Please say there’s still some wine in the fridge.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s like asking if there are three psycho girls in this house. Lambrusco and White Zin.”

Micheala pours herself a glass of Lambrusco and sit down at the counter with Monica. “Is it too much to ask for one day that doesn’t suck and that ends before seven o’clock.”

“For you yes.” I retrieve milk and cheese from the fridge. “Mon, can you hand me the cheese grater?”

“Cheala why don’t you find a new job?” Monica passes me the grater.

“And give up my dream job?” I just need one more of me and one ex-boyfriend that will leave me the hell alone.” Micheala gulped down some wine. “I want a new life. I’m so tired of this same old bullshit. I’m tired of being alone. Maybe it’s time to move again.”

Monica moans. “No thank you! We already followed you from Dallas to L.A. Don’t make us pack up and do it again.

“Who said you were invited? Maybe I want to get away from you too,” Micheala sticks her tongue out at the older girl.

“You need a break, hun,” I say over my shoulder. “How about an official girls’ night out on Friday?”

“But that’s two days away.”

“So use some of your obscenely overabundant vacation time on Friday and it will only feel like one day.”

“And you know I’m starting to get a sore throat,” Monica coughs. “I think I’m gonna be way too sick to work on Friday, too. Aren’t you off Nikki?”

“Yep. We can have an all girl day. How’s that sound, Mike?” I tease.

“Stop calling me that. You know Patrick is the only one that did it and I hate it.” Micheala lays her head on the counter. “God, what was I thinking when I dated him. I soooo need to find myself a decent man.”

“Then it’s official… Friday we take you out to find some incredible party clothes…” I begin.

Micheala raises her head to interrupt. “I have great clubbin’ clothes.”

I give her my ‘Don’t-even-try-that-shit-with-me’ look before continuing, “we go out Friday night, get Cheala nice and drunk in her sexy new clothes and find her a new hottie.”

Micheala raises her glass. “I’ll toast to that evil scheme.”

I turn off the stove. “Good, now get your ass up and get some plates out for dinner.”

Through Monica’s Eyes

“Okay, I’m ready,” I proclaim, flouncing into Micheala’s room with my skirt swishing.

Still wearing a black silk robe Micheala turns from her closet. “Makeup? Hair?”

With a wave of my hand, I answer her questions, “Oh pooh! Lipstick is all I need. We’re going man hunting for you tonight not me.”

Micheala rolls her eyes. “Oh great. I’m gonna catch me some man. Do I have to skin him and cook him, too?”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Cheala are you ready yet?” Nikki calls from her room next door.

With an impish grin, Micheala cries, “Yes, of course.”

“In other words, not even close,” Nikki replies.

I giggle, “She’s just going in her lin-ger-ee.”

“That might not be such a bad idea. We are man hunting.”

“What is with the man hunting? Micheala cries. “They’re not pieces of meat.”

I stare at her, knowing that I do not need to say a word- Micheala knows what I am thinking. Nikki pops her head in the door with the same expression on her face. “Well, some parts might be considered…”

“Okay, stop right there. I already know what you’re gonna say,” Micheala points to both of us.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“I’m not even looking for a big tube steak. I just need a nice rump,” Micheala turns back to her closet. “What to wear, what to wear…” she mutters.

Nikki parades over to Micheala’s closet and surveys the contents. She tosses a black wrap skirt, white sparkly tank top, and black lace shirt at Micheala. “Here.”

Micheala looks over the clothes. “Do you want me to look like Monica?”

"No, I still look better," I model my black pleated mini-skirt, purple v-necked cashmere sweater, and black knee high boots.

Nikki ignores me. “Black is classy.”

Micheala pauses before asking her, “Have you not met me?”

“Clubs are all about first impressions, they learn the bad stuff later. We just want them to think you have class.”

“That’s okay, because Micheala only thinks she has class, too,” I smirk, ducking the armful of clothing she throws at me.

“Well, you can’t look as good as me,” Nikki deadpans. She checks herself in the full-length mirror surveying her black pinstripe pants, off shoulder top and strappy black five-inch heels.

“I don’t wanna look like you. I wanna look single,” Micheala sticks her tongue out.

“They maybe you should go in your lin-ger-ee,” I suggest, reexamining the discarded outfits on her bed. Something here has to scream, I’m hot, I’m single, and I’m horny.

“I said single not desperate,” Micheala argues, shooting my theory full of holes.

"Well, you are, aren't you?"

"No, I'm looking for a new guy because I'm tired of being lonely. I want someone besides you two and two cats to talk to or go out with. A date with the remote control and a bag of popcorn isn't that great."

“That depends on what you’re watching!” I point out. Sometimes, I would rather watch a good movie alone than be in the company of some pawing putz.

Nikki holds up a red top with a low cut back and v-neck that ties behind the neck. "What do you think?"

"I might as well wear lingerie," Micheala whines. "Where are we going?"

“I thought we might hit the Dubliner tonight. Shoot some pool, have a few drinks, check out a few guys.” Nikki holds up a purple sparkly long-sleeved shirt.

“For the Dubliner? When was the last time you were there?” Micheala bounces over to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room, plucking her other cat Mocha from the top of it. “ Go on baby. You don’t need to be up there. Billiards calls for jeans.”

“Oh, would you dress up for once,” I groan.

“Despite popular belief, I’m not classy, prissy, or girly. Might as well not give out false advertising.” Micheala drops jeans and a blue suede bustier on her black and white bedspread and bounces to the closet.

“Who put speed in your Coke?”

Micheala changes direction before she reaches the closet and picks up a half-empty bottle of hard lemonade from her vanity. “This is number two.”

“Ah-hah!” Nikki points to the bottle. “Starting early.”

Micheala return to the closet and bends down to pick up some white leather boots. “It’s cheaper to get drunk that way.”

"And the boots complete the classy ensemble," I roll my eyes.

"That's right. Now can I put my clothes on so Nikki can do my make-up?" Micheala enters her bathroom.

From our side of the closed door, Nikki examines her own flawlessly made-up face. She has chosen sable eye shadow to accent her dark, deep-set eyes, and minx eyeliner and mascara draw out the full effect of their almond shape. Her upturned mouth is painted vixen. It all goes with her bronzy skin, bringing out a glow. In the millisecond it takes her to take in every detail, she asks, "Who said I was doing your make-up?"

"Because you will get impatient with my choice of colors or the fact that I don't have enough eye make-up and make me let you do it. So you might as well do it from the beginning." Micheala exits the bathroom holding the bustier against her front. "Will someone please zip me up?"

I step up to fasten the back of Micheala’s top. “And who’s going to unzip it and let you back out?”

“Well, depends on what handsome lads we find at the bar.”

I sit on the side of Micheala’s bed while she and Nikki step up to the mirror. “And what kind of buff babe are we looking for tonight?”

“Hmmm… if we can find Justin Timberlake or Elijah Wood, I wouldn’t complain,” Micheala grins evilly.

“You cradle robber,” I gasp.

“Well, if it was Nikki, we’d be looking for Sean Connery,” smarts Micheala.

Nikki defends herself, “At least he looks good.”

"Oh whatever," Micheala tries to roll her eyes. Nikki grabs her face to hold it in one spot.

"Any-hoo, is there a certain type of guy we should be looking for tonight?” I ask, getting up off Micheala’s bed and looking over myself again. This purple brings out the yellow undertone of my skin, and my plum lipstick makes my lips look luscious. I’m adorable! What kind of guy will I find tonight? We’re not focusing on me… this is for Cheala. “Do you want tall, dark, and handsome? Short, fat and ugly? Blonde? Brunette? Redhead with freckles…"

"Short and fat," Micheala laughs. "We're looking for a man, not a dwarf."

"Where is your blue sparkle eye shadow?" Nikki interrupts.

"In the blue makeup bag," Micheala points out. "Mon, I don't want some preppy boy… They're higher maintenance than Nik."

"Hey, watch it!" Nikki argues while I laugh. "I'm about to use a small pointy pencil near your eyes."

Micheala ignores her and continues. "It's all in the eyes. If he smiles and his eyes smile, too, then that's a good guy. I've always liked eyes."

"I thought you were an ass girl," Nikki points out. She rummages across the vanity for the silver-blue eyeliner.

"Well, she is an ass," I agree. "A smartass"

Micheala continues yet again. "A nice ass is a big perk, but, for some reason, I like good shoulders and arms. And a tight six pack. But smile and eyes are key points."

"Can you be quiet for one second so I can do your lip liner?" Nikki stands poised with the pencil.

While Micheala purses her lips for Nikki to apply a berry colored base, I say, "So eyes, smile, shoulders and abs. The abs part is half the male population of L.A. What about hair or eye color?” I wait for a few moments before Micheala can reply.

"I don't know. I usually don't care as long as they don't have green or blue hair."

"Well, that rules out another percentage of the men in L.A." Nikki comments, smoothing on a sheer, glossy pink lip balm. After a final once-over, she decides she is pleased with her work. "Finish your hair so we can get going, Mike. It's already nine-thirty.” Nikki flips her black-and-red-striped “dyslexic tiger” hair and sits on the corner of the bed.

"Okay." Micheala runs a brush through her long red hair before pulling a small section away from the left side of her face and begins to braid it. As she finishes the first braid and puts a barrette in it, she speaks again. "You know, I want someone that can be a friend and a boyfriend. Nik, you and Jason did it right. Patrick and I found out that we had great sex, but there was nothing else. I need someone that I can talk to, hang out with, have food fights with…" Micheala giggles.

"Would there be whipped cream and chocolate sauce in those food fights," I use my fingers to make quotation marks around the words food fights. Nikki doubles over with laughter.

"Oh shut up, you pervert." Micheala pulls the two braids from the front of her face and clips them together at the back of her head. "Do you at least see what I'm saying?" She digs her hair mascara from a drawer to paint the bottom of her braids and add a few ran Dom streaks in the rest of her hair.

“Yes, you need a hottie who’s a nice guy and fun to be around. And of course, he has to be a smartass to hold his own against you,” I sum up.

“Well, duh! Subjecting anyone else to me would be torture.”

“Yes, for them. That isn’t an impossible order or anything.”

“Hey! I never said I was easy to please. Maybe that is why I’m single,” Micheala returns to her closet for a white motorcycle jacket. “Are we ready?”

Nikki stands gracefully. “About damn time. Where’s your keys Cheala?”

“I’m not driving,” Micheala proclaims. “I’m drunking.”

“You mean drinking?” I point out, spinning a final time in front of the mirror as we exit Micheala’s room and troop down the stairs.

“No. Drunking. As in drunk as a fish.”

Nikki interrupts as she puts on her matching pinstripe jacket. “No, I’m driving. But your Tahoe is bigger than my Sebring and Mon’s car is still in the shop. You’re drunking tonight.”

As we all climb into the silver Tahoe, Micheala puts in the “party” CD that I had burned earlier today. As Nikki pulls away from our house, we all “sing” along loudly to Nelly’s ‘Hott in Herre.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Elijah’s Eyes

*Pound* *Pound* *Pound* *Pound*

“Jesus, dude… I can hear you! I’m coming!” An accented voice yells from the other side of the door. A pair of bare feet slap against the wood floor, drawing closer to us.

“Ten bucks says he isn’t ready,” groans Dom to my right.

Behind us, Billy snorts, “My ten says we have to make him change clothes.”

A blond man flings open the apartment’s door. “Do you have to wake the dead every time you arrive?”

“I win!” cries Dom on seeing his friend wearing only dark blue jeans.

Orlando rolls his eyes as we file into the room. “What was the wager this time?”

As Billy pulls out his wallet, I explain,” The geek says you weren’t ready yet, pretty boy. And the nerd said you would be wearing one of your typically ugly shirts.”

“Hey!” Both men exclaim as Orlando turns to head back down the hall.

“My clothes are not ugly and I’m almost ready,” Orlando calls back.

Dom and Billy search the fridge for beer and the cabinets for chips, and I follow Orlando to the bathroom where he is already smearing his head with hair gel. Leaning against the doorway, I ask “Man, did you have dark hair last week?”

“I have an audition this week – thought it might help.” Orlando begins sculpting his hair.

“Elijah, make sure his hair doesn’t look like shit again,” Dom shouts to me.

My blue eyes twinkle as I call back. “I’ll make sure pretty boy is presentable.”

“I’m a pretty boy,” The blonde cries. “Here- use this mirror to look at yourself.”

I glance down at my black slacks, blue shirt, and black leather motorcycle jacket. “I look damn good. I bet I score more numbers than you tonight.”

“I bet you won’t have the balls to call any of them even if you are so lucky. You talk more about getting action than Billy.” Orlando strolls through the other doorway into his bedroom.

“I see my fair share of action.”

Laughter erupts from the living room.

“Shut up,” I cry as I walk towards the kitchen for my own beer.

“And when was the last time you got any nookie, Lij?” Dom continues laughing.

“Last weekend.”

“Man, having a girl throw her drink in your lap does not count as getting lucky.”

“It does in your book,” I retort.

“Where are we going anyway,” Orlando shouts from his room. “I gotta know what to wear.”

“Doesn’t matter… it will still be tacky,” Billy murmurs.

I shake my head, “The Dubliner.”

“Fuck! If I wanted to go to a pub, I could do that back home,” Orlando moans as he enters the living room buttoning his shirt. “Can’t we do something that is more L.A.”?

Billy starts gagging, “Elijah, we told you to make him presentable!”

Dom covers his eyes without a word.

“What?” Orlando holds up his arms to display the red and white striped shirt. “This shirt is great!”

“That shirt is ugly. And we said no mohawk.”

Orlando surveys Billy’s red shirt and blue vest and Dom’s white wife beater under a purple shirt. “You guys are just boring old fucks.” He runs his fingers through his hair to make it stick up straighter.

“Man, do something about the hair and the shirt or stay home,” Dom comments.

Billy snickers, “Or you can just stay home anyway.”

“Or we could let him go with the shirt and just pretend we don’t know him.”

“We’ll pretend he’s our rich eccentric friend who only came along to pay for the drinks.”

Dom jumps up excitedly. “Hey! I had an uncle like that once. Are you my uncle?”

Orlando steps up to Dom and towers over him by a few inches, threatening, “You bloody bastard. I wouldn’t curse my worst enemy to be related to you.”

“’Orli, are you going to change or what,” I interject.

“Or what.” I like what I’m wearing and you fuckers will have to deal with it.”

“I’ll gladly pick out another shirt for you,” Billy volunteers.

“And I’ll show you where to put it, too.” Orlando sits on the side of the couch to put on his boots.

“And then we add the damn boots,” I mutter.

“What is this- make jokes at me day?” whines Orlando.

“No,” Dom answers innocently.

“Every day is pick on Orlando day.” Billy adds, sweetly.

I toss my beer bottle in the trash. “Can we get going already? Who’s the designated driver?”

All three of my friends point at me. “You!”

“Oh hell no!” I laugh running for the door. “I got stuck with it last weekend. Dom, I think you just volunteered.”

“Why?” What did I do wrong,” moaned Dom.

Orlando smacks the back of his head. “Made fun of my clothes.”

“Billy did, too!”

“Yea, but you still lose. Move!” Orlando elbows Billy aside to lock the front door. “Go start the car.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Monica’s Eyes

As Micheala and Nikki dance around the pool table, brandishing their crude, phallic pool cues, I stand back, drink in hand, keeping lookout for Micheala’s possible victim. There are quite a few choice cuts in the place tonight. There is an impish grin on my face – just enough to intrigue anyone who may be looking. I sip my drink and glance back at my friends. We really need to find Cheala a man. It was a great suggestion by Nikki to go out tonight and give up her usual Friday night date with her boyfriend. With as well as things are going for her right now, Cheala and I may be looking for a new roommate soon. Now is the time to focus on the task at hand- discovering Micheala’s new interest… someone to help make her happy again.

As luck would have it, that might be him on the balcony, laughing with a couple of friends. Looks like a fun guy. He and his friends appear to be having a really good time. Interesting… a blonde with an edge. He doesn’t look like a pretty boy, which is a good thing. But he is very cute – even has the kind of eyes Cheala described. Terrible dresser, though – not that it would matter to Cheala (silly girl). But isn't her ultimate goal to get him out of them? That would be an act of charity. He's the one.

I glance back at my friends at the pool table. Right now Nik is ruling the table, but that changes in a split second.

I stifle a giggle as she comes stomping over, spewing a streak of profanity. “I can’t fucking believe I missed that fucking shot!” She glances at my cosmopolitan, and takes a gulp. “Thanks.”

“No prob. Hey, I found something that might brighten your mood.” I coyly tilt my head in the direction of the balcony. “Blondie in the striped shirt.”

Nikki glances up, and a smile to match mine paints her Cupid’s bow mouth. “Fu-uck me.”

“Well, not you,” I joke, watching her face and seeing the wheels turning behind her dark eyes.

“Well, no, not me. I don’t think Jason would approve. He’s not my type, anyway… too skinny and no ass. What the hell is with the hair?”

“Yeah. And the fabulous clothes,” I add. “But we’re shopping for Cheala and you know he’d be just her type.” We study him for a few moments with his friends. “Well… what do you think? Is he the one?”

“He looks like who did it and what the hell fuck for, but his hair isn’t blue or green and there’s might be some abs under that shirt,” Nikki says warily, but excitedly. We look at each other, knowing that we are about to create some chaos.

“So, what’s the plan? I know you’re already plotting something.”

“Of course, I am.” She whispers to me how she plans to lure Romeo to Juliet.

Micheala looks up to see us talking and knows that can only mean trouble. “What are you two plotting?” she asks.

“Nothing!” Nikki and I claim in unison. Oh, that was so inconspicuous.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” I say.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” Nikki announces.

We part ways, and slyly work our way back to our table, which is conveniently at Micheala’s back. She resumes shooting pool.

“Okay,” I ask, “what drink do we get him? Nothing too strong, or too wussy, and nothing too suggestive.”

“Well, that rules out Sex on the Beach,” Nikki pouts. “What about vodka tonic?”

“That might be good. Margaritas are too frou-frou- definitely not manly. That could explain why I love them. 7&7?”

“That’s good, too. We can’t go wrong with whiskey- unless he doesn’t like it. What’s he drinking now?”

I glance up and spot a familiar bottle. “It’s a Heine! No mistaking that green.”

“His taste in beer sucks, too.”

“Goes with the shirt. You know what you’re gonna say to him?”

“Nothing. I’ll let the paper do the talking. Just persuade Cheala to come back and sit down.”

I clap my hands. “Can do. I love this stuff!” I run off to the pool table to reclaim my friend.

When I arrive, I see that Micheala is not alone- that was fast. A short, skinny man in a red shirt and blue vest is standing there with her, holding his stomach, as if he’s in pain. I get a sinking feeling, knowing that Micheala is not always the most graceful person in the world. Here comes Monica, to the rescue… of some poor fool with the misfortune of meeting a drunken Micheala with a dangerous object. “Mike, what’s going on here?”

The little man looks shocked. “Mike?” he asks, glancing down at the front of her jeans in confusion.

“I’ve told you to stop calling me that!” She cries. She turns back to the injured man and says, “My name is Micheala. And I’m so sorry for trying to kill you!”

“Trying to kill him!” I yell. “What the hell have you done?”

“Well, I won’t die any time soon, probably, but your friend is a bit lethal with a pool cue. That might come in handy some time, but not today,” he explains, with a thick Irish accent. He glances back and forth between the two of us. “Oh, I’m Billy.”

“Billy, nice to meet you,” Micheala extends her hand.

“Yeah. I figured you’d like to know the name of your intended victim for later bragging rights.”

“It wasn’t intended. I’m so sorry. I’ve been drunking all night.”

“Drunking?”

I step in before these two could turn this into a comedy routine. “Billy, nice to meet you and I’m sure she’s really sorry for trying to end your life. What’s that sports term- no harm no foul? Right? I don’t know sports.”

“Yeah, Monica’s too girlie for sports.”

“Whatever- there is no such thing. On that note, missy, you need to come with me,” I grab her arm and to lead her away. Over my shoulder I add, “Billy, I promise to keep her away from you with any other dangerous objects.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Billy’s Eyes

I stand in the same spot and watch the two girls, I think, ‘Unbelievable! If that’s what they mean by a woman that takes your breath away, I don’t want any part of that.’ Still holding my stomach, I slowly weave my way through the crowd and back upstairs to my friends.

As I approach the group, Dom slaps my arm, “Dude, what took you so long. Since when does it take ten minutes to take a piss?”

“I ran into this little redhead girl named Mike who took my breath away- literally”

That got Dom’s attention. “Literally? Was she that good looking?”

“Well, when he says literally,” Elijah explains, “that means it really happened. She rendered him breathless.”

“Well yes, but that’s not what I mean. She tried to kill me,” I say.

That attracts Orlando’s attention from someone he was ogling downstairs. “A little girl tried to kill you? So you’re getting your ass kicked by girls now?”

I sigh, “No, by girls with dangerous weapons. She pegged me in the stomach with a pool cue.”

That brings laughter from all three of my friends.

“A pool cue is a dangerous weapon now? ‘ Billy with you around a paper clip is a dangerous weapon,” Dom says. “I once knew a guy who lost an eye to a paperclip. It was a horrible sight,” he pauses. “Sight? Get it?”

We all groan.

I shake my head. “No, this little midget of a girl… I’m telling you she was like an elf…”

Elijah corrects me, “Dude, elves are tall and graceful and hobbits are… well, not.”

“Whatever… and she’s wielding a pool cue that’s like a hundred times bigger than she is, spins around, and just clocks me with it. I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

Dom says, “And then did the pool balls attack you too?”

“No, I haven’t been attacked by any balls.”

“What? You have no balls you say,” asks Dom.

Orlando’s eyes nearly fall out of his head. “Whoa! This conversation is going way too far. The last thing I wanna hear about tonight is ‘Billy’s balls or lack thereof.”

“Hey!” I cry.

Elijah changes the subject quickly. “So, uh… We need more drinks. Who’s buying the next round?”

“Not me, I’m still recovering from my near death experience. But maybe another beer will help ease the pain.” I lead the way to the stairs and back to the bar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Nikki’s Eyes

I watch Monica and Micheala as they talk to a colorfully attired man at the pool table and then return to the round corner booth. Monica dutifully makes sure Micheala is seated in the middle of the booth. I flag a waitress over, “Sweetheart, can I borrow your pen and paper?” She quickly hands me a purple pen and her notepad. A stroke of brilliance hits me and I scribble the perfect message. I call the waitress back over, returning her pen and say, “Do you see the blonde guy in the awful red and white shirt?”

The waitress looks to where I’m pointing and nods. “Could you please give him this and a Heineken and put it on our tab?”

The waitress nods. “Hey! Joey! Heineken and this message to the red and white shirt at the other end of the bar. Put it on 4’s tab!” she yells to the bartender.

I slip a couple one’s onto her tray before returning to our table. I slide in on Micheala’s other side, trapping her in the booth. With a sly smile and a nod, I let Monica know that plot has begun. “So what’s going on? Are we having fun?”

“No, Micheala’s trying to kill people,” Monica announces.

Micheala argues, “I wasn’t trying to kill him. He just got in the way of my next shot.”

“Explain?” I ask, still watching the plot unfold before my eyes. ‘Blondie’s got the note.’ Micheala lights a cigarette and begins to explain as I watch him unfold the paper. I nod as if I am listening to her story. “Uh-huh. Really?”

As Micheala is still speaking, the blonde glances over at our table. He turns to his friends, note still in hand and begins speaking. I recite the note verbatim for my friends. “Corner booth… Red hair… blue bustier… with a blush to match my hair as you read this note… Next round is on us if you join us.” Monica and Micheala look at me confused – Micheala sincerely so and Monica feigning innocence. “Girls, things are about to get interesting.”

Slowly, Micheala turns beet red and faces me, yelling over the music, “Nicole, what the fuck have you done?”

Monica giggles her conspiratorial laugh. “What have we done? Micheala meet the man of your dreams.”

Micheala elbows me in the side. “Let me out of here. I wasn’t serious about finding a man.”

“Yea, but we were,” Monica grins.

I agree, “Yea, and we just did. He’s headed this way and you can’t get out.” With a little shove from a brunette with spiky hair, the blonde in the red and white shirt begins walking towards our table as his three friends look on just as curiously.

“I hate you both!” Micheala shouts, still looking around for an escape.

“Too late!” I tease. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”

“Action,” Monica ends the countdown.

The blonde grabs a chair from nearby, turns it backwards to the front of our table, and sits down on it facing us, leaning on the back, and staring directly at Micheala. “So… a round of what?” He says in a perfect British accent that I know will drive her nuts.

For the first time in her life, Micheala is utterly speechless. “Um… uh… yeah… okay…” She freezes with her cigarette in mid-air.

I’m dying to hear a smartass comeback from her, but get stuttering and more blushing instead. I place my head in my right hand and stare expectantly, with one raised eyebrow, at my small friend. Monica glances back and forth between the two excitedly, barely containing an “Oh my gosh!” exclamation, but waiting just as anxiously as I am to see what unfolds next from our little plot. This is always the best kind. Always a calculated beginning but who knows what the end will bring.

He reaches one long arm across the table and covers Micheala’s fingers as she fumbles with her baby blue cigarette lighter. “Can I bum one? And are you going to ash before it’s all over the table?”

Micheala taps her cigarette on the ashtray and slides him the pack with her free hand. She seems to remember she has a tongue. “Those things will kill ya, you know.”

“Some things are always worth taking a chance on.” He slides a cigarette from the pack. With his thumb, he pops the lighter from under Micheala’s hand and slides it into his own to flick it on.

“Whatever you like,” Micheala finally answers his initial question.

As he exhales his first drag, it’s his turn to be thrown off guard. “What?”

“To drink,” Monica adds, winking at him.

“Well, I like sex on the beach,” he answers. Having recovered, he slides Micheala’s lighter back to her and sets his hand on hers again.

I turn from Micheala to the stranger, “the drink?”

“Well, yea I like that, too.” He laughs.

“Well, I personally prefer a royal fuck or a blowjob.” Micheala shoots back.

“I could handle both of those.”

“After too many of those you’re going to be weak in the knees,” Micheala takes another drag.

“Don’t worry, I have a high tolerance,” he replies quickly.

‘This one is already a match for her smart mouth,’ I think.

Monica is the first to interrupt the two. “Okay kids, time to end all the double entendres.” She switches to her game show hostess voice. “Micheala… ran Dom stranger… random stranger… Micheala.”

“Yea, do you come with a name or do you always just walk up to girls and ask for a free drink?” asks Micheala.

“Orlando,” he replies.

Monica exclaims, “Wasn't there a Saint Orlando."

"I doubt it." I roll my eyes.

“Well, I’ve never been called a saint before.”

I grin, “And what have you been called?”

“Usually a bloody bastard or a wanker,” he laughs.

His blue-eyed, spiky haired friend steps up behind him. “So which one of you ladies is offering the free round of drinks?”

Orlando glances over his shoulder. “They still haven’t decided. Can’t even decide what kind of bloody drinks we want.” He looks back at Micheala, “You ever had a screaming orgasm?”

“The drink or the other one?” Micheala grins wickedly.

“Either.”

“Both.”

Monica can no longer control herself. Her “Oh my gosh!” finally escapes her lips and covers her mouth in her hands.

I chuckle, “I love this girl! She’s nuts!”

Micheala sticks her tongue out at me. “No, I’m not. I’ve been drunking!”

Orlando shakes his head as if that will help him understand her. “You’ve been what?”

“Drunking? It’s when you drink with the intention of getting completely fucked up.”

“Oh we do that every weekend, right Elijah.”

His friend slides into the booth beside Monica. “No ‘Orli you do that every weekend. And I get stuck babysitting you.” He introduces himself to us. “And here comes trouble.”

Orlando and Elijah’s other two friends approach the booth. As the guy in the red shirt reaches my side, he and Micheala point at each other and exclaim “You!”

“Guys, this is the little girl that tried to kill me!” he cries.

Orlando turns his eyes back to Micheala. “You tried to kill him? Say it’s not true.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill him. He just needs to learn not to walk behind a girl holding a pool cue.” Micheala explains. “And not to call women little girls.”

“Or, you could just learn to avoid women all together. You never have any luck anyway,” Orlando offers over his shoulder to the shorter man.

The red-shirted man rolls his eyes. “Oh and you’ve been so lucky tonight. You aren’t doing any better than the rest of us.”

Orlando winks at Micheala. “I was just introduced to the most beautiful lady in the place- sor’of. She refuses to tell me her name.”

The compliment makes Micheala blush again.

“That’s Mike! Just make sure you’re on her team when playing pool and she may not hurt you,” Billy teases.

Micheala points her cigarette at him again. “You already called me a little girl. Calling me Mike is a sure way to sign your own death certificate. It’s Micheala or Cheala- nothing else.”

“Well, Micheala or Cheala- nothing else. You’re still the prettiest girl here,” Orlando flatters her again.

“See he got it right. He can stay. Billy has to leave.”

I speak up. “Billy I like you. You put Mike in her place. You can stay.”

“See,” he smirks. “Someone likes me.” He slides in next to me.

“One in a million ain’t bad,” Dom comments. “Since no one else will introduce me, I’m Dom.”

Monica introduces us. “Rob, you can stay too.”

Dom elbows Elijah to slide over and takes a seat. “I thought I was gonna be the only one not allowed to sit tonight.”

The waitress approaches our table with a smile. “I see the love letters worked. Can I get you folks anything?”

“Tuaca Lemondrops,” Micheala cries as Orlando requests, “Kamakazis.”

“Both,” I order, “One round of each.”

“That’s one two three…” Micheala begins counting heads.

“Seven!” Billy cries.

“…Eight nine ten!” Micheala finishes. The table roars with laughter.

“She’s been drunking forgive her,” Monica pardons our friend. “Seven shots of each.” The waitress departs our table to place the order.

“I think it’s time Micheala stopped drunking,” Orlando suggests.

“It is never time for Micheala to stop drunking. I’ve only had this many,” she holds up three fingers. “No wait! This many!” She holds up four.

Orlando holds up two fingers and moves his hand quickly back and forth. “Now how many am I holding up?”

Micheala giggles. “That’s not fair! I can’t count that high!”

Monica grins. “She’s telling the truth.”

Orlando pulls a small slip of paper from his pocket and slides it to Micheala. “So who do we have to blame or thank for this introduction?”

Micheala reads the paper covered with my curving handwriting. “That would be Matchmaker Number One- AKA Nikki. And Matchmaker Number Two was responsible for manhandling me back to the table and helping to trap me so that I couldn’t run away.”

Orlando mimics a bow from his seat to first Monica and then me. “Well, matchmakers one and two thank you very much.” Orlando accepts the paper from Micheala and slides it back in his pocket.

“Shots!” Billy cries as the waitress approaches. As she sets each one on the table, Elijah distributes them. “Tuaca first!”

Monica countdowns for us, “3…2…1…” Everyone throws back his or her shots. “Whoa! I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those before.”

"Kamikazis!” cries Micheala. This time she provides the countdown.

Micheala, Orlando, and I light up another cigarette. “Oh fine! Just suck your butts and make us all sick,” Monica moans.

“See ‘Orli… someone else has sense,” Elijah agrees.

“It’s a bar! Everyone else is smoking!” Orlando argues.

“Thank you!” I concur. “Mon, we don’t smoke in the house. At least allow us one pleasure if we have to spend time with you.”

“Spending time with me should be a pleasure.” Monica argues.

“Yea, it should be.”

“Champagne!” Micheala randomly exclaims. “C’mon guys lemme out. I wanna go to the bar.”

Billy and I slide out of Micheala’s way.

“May, I accompany you mademoiselle,” Orlando asks. Micheala nods. As the pair departs for the bar, we all notice as he slides his arm loosely around her waist to steady her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Elijah’s Eyes

I turn to the two ladies. “That was the most original pick up I’ve ever seen. Did she lose a bet?”

Monica giggles. “No, she wanted to go out and look for a new guy. We just took it upon ourselves to find one for her.”

Billy glances at the bar. “And you picked that fucker? Have you not looked at him?”

“Cheala only specified no blue or green hair and that they be of the male persuasion. She said nothing about mohawks or bad clothes.”

This time Dom joins into their usual comedy act. “He’s just putting on a good first impression. The clothes and hair are much more indicative of the geek he really is.”

“Takes one to know one man.” Billy jabs at his friend. He turns his attention back to the girls. “Do you do this to her often?”

Nikki shakes her head. “No. Usually we let her make her own choices. We just have better taste.”

Monica observes the two at the bar as Orlando tries to get the bartender’s attention. “They’re so cute together.”

“You are such a sap. They’ve been talking for five minutes and you already have them walking down the aisle,” sighs Nikki.

Monica shrugs, “What? I just think they look good together. Is that so wrong? Would it really be so bad if Micheala meets a nice guy for once?”

Dom and Billy laugh. “A nice guy? He really is putting on the charm tonight,’ snorts Dom. “What did he do to give you that impression?”

I slap Dom on the back of the head. “Shut up! You know he’s a good guy. Is it so wrong that a girl might want something other than to get into his pants for once?”

“Yea, ‘cause she doesn’t want to get in mine.”

That sends Monica and Nikki into giggles. “I don’t know,” Nikki adds, “she has had plenty to drink so far and the night is still young. Heaven only knows what she might want by the end of the night.” She turns to observe them at the bar. “Or what she might want now.”

We all turn our attention the bar. Micheala is sitting sideways on a tall stool as Orlando stands in front of her leaning against the bar. His hand still covers hers and there are bright smiles on their faces as they chat.

“See,” Monica cries. “I told you they are cute together! That is so sweet.” She turns to me. “How do you all know each other?”

I answer for everyone. “Rob, Billy and I have known each other for a few years since we all came to L.A. And I did some uh… work with Orli. He was really cool and started hanging out with us once he moved here full-time.”

“So you aren’t from here?”

“No, I was born and raised mostly in Iowa. Dom grew up here in California and if you can’t tell Billy’s a damn leprechaun.”

Billy growled at me. “I will kick your ass Elijah.”

Nikki slapped the tabletop as she laughed. “I see he likes that about as much as Cheala likes being called Mike.”

“And yet you do it anyway?”

“Hell yea. We have to live with her. If we can’t annoy her a little what’s the fun?”

“I may have to call her that from now on.”

“And who says we might ever want to see you after this night?”

“If those two keep getting along as well as it looks from here, we won’t have much choice.” Dom points back to the pair at the bar.

Micheala was showing all the signs of steady flirting that I had ever seen from any woman- touching the arm, laughing, eye contact. Well, eye contact is a very good thing. Most girls that I meet and talk to find everything but me to look at. Maybe that isn’t just flirting.

Conversation at the table continues for about forty minutes with frequent checks that we haven’t lost track of the two drinkers at the bar. Monica and Nikki explain how they had come to live in L.A. and what the three girls do for work. Billy is very interested in Micheala’s job and notes that he’ll have to hear more about it from her, while I am intrigued by Monica’s work at a nearby museum.

Finally, Nikki mentions that she is going to check on the pair but as we turn to look, Orlando helps the small girl slide off the stool- almost picks her up and lifts her off it. They now both have their arms around each other’s waists as they stroll back to the table, each with a glass of champagne.

They approach the table but do not sit down. Micheala is smiling from ear to ear. Her friends may know better, but I would take that as a good sign for Orli. His face is trying to stay serious, but I see a small smile trying to escape. He keeps glancing down at his new friend with a look of interest.

“Who has my cigarettes,” Micheala demands. “I’ve had to go a whole hour without a smoke.”

“And the world may just end without a nicotine fix.” Orlando adds.

“Oh great! They can be addicts together,” Monica moans. “And it’s only been like forty minutes. It’s not gonna kill you.”

“Hon, you finished them all before you went to the bar,” Nikki reminds her. “You can have one of mine if you want.”

“Ewwww… there’s a reason I don’t smoke yours. I might as well smoke the air,” Micheala whines.

“Well, you must not have lived in L.A. for long. You practically can,” Dom points out. Monica giggles at that one.

“Uh-huh!” Micheala tries to pull Orlando towards the door. “Let’s go get some more smokes.” She downs the rest of her glass.

Orlando shrugs, “I didn’t drive. Gotta talk to Dom on that note.”

“Nope, Elijah agreed to be the DD again. You know I’m not good with that responsibility,” Dom explains. “There is no such word as no when I’m at a bar.”

“Except from the girls,” teases Billy. Nikki and Monica laugh again.

“Fine. Who’s got my keys?” Micheala sets down her now empty champagne flute and holds out her hand.

“I do,” Nikki answers. “Safe and sound in my bag where you can’t get them. Seven drinks means no more driving for you. Guess you’re stuck with my cigs.”

“Noooo…” Micheala whines. “And it’s been eight drinks. I wanna go get more cigs. Orlando, you can drive my car.”

With a hug, Orlando denies her request. “I’ve had just as much as you have sweetie. Looks like we’re at Nikki’s mercy.” He raises an eyebrow at Nikki, “Please?”

“No. Plan ahead next time Mike.” Nikki picks up her bag and nudges Billy to let her out of the booth. “I promised Jason I would call around midnight. I’ll be right back.”

Micheala tries her puppy dogface and baby voice on me. “Elijah, since you are the only one with keys can you pleeeeeeeaase run us down the road for some more smokes. I will love you forever and ever and ever.”

Orlando frowns. “What about me?”

Micheala smiles even bigger at him. “Forever and ever and ever and ever and ever?”

“Okay. How about it, dude? We’ll be back in a minute so you can continue your futile attempts as scoring phone numbers.”

I roll my eyes. Yet again, I have been persuaded to lead others into temptation… or drive them. “Fine. I’ll take the spoiled brats for their cancer sticks. You owe me so big man.” Dom moves so I can stand up.

“I’m going with,” Monica announces, springing out of her seat, too. “I’ll not leave you to your own devices in a vehicle with two guys… they may never recover,” she teases.

However, I think it’s her way of being protective without flat out saying she doesn’t trust us. “Fair enough.”

As we head for the door, Orlando whispers to me. “You have no idea how much I owe you. Thank you for telling me to go talk to her. Tonight is gonna be a very good night.”

In the car, after Monica and I have made sure they’re both buckled in, I glance back at them in the rearview mirror. They’re prattling on like wide-eyed children. I feel as if I should be driving a minivan instead. I’m not really irritated. I just wonder how many times he’s going to do this. This girl isn’t the first one who seemed great in the beginning. I just hope she doesn’t turn out as the others have. I don’t know why I’m more wary of this than Orlando is.

I must have a serious expression on my face because Orlando says from the back, “Oh, why don’t you act like it’s the end of the world, Elijah? There’s a gas station right around the corner. We’ll just go there and head right back.”

Micheala leans over the back of Monica’s seat. “Thank you Elijah. I promise to love you forever.”

“Yea, just because you two can’t live without your nicotine,” I sigh.

“Well, we could but why should we have to.”

“Because it’s not good for you.”

“Yeah,” Monica agrees. It’s the first time she’s spoken since we’ve left the table. “You suck asses.”

“Aw Elijah, I’ve only known you like an hour and you’re already lecturing me?” Micheala whines. “I thought one Monica was enough.”

Orlando glances over at Monica. “You mean you’re a Elijah too. I’m sorry.” Monica offers him a suffering smile.

“Monica is my live in mom. Lectures and all.”

“That’s right. While Jill is in West Virginia, I am your mother. Don’t we look so much alike?” Monica says, like a proud mother.

“Well, you’re about the same height,” I point out. I earn a slap on the arm for that.

“Elijah is my fill-in father. I left my mum in London and still have a parent over here to rule my life,” explains Orlando.

“And yet I would be willing to bet that Elijah is younger than you?”

“A measly twenty-one to my 26. And yet he still acts like an old man.”

I defend myself. “Someone has to be responsible. What would happen if you, Dom, and Billy were left to your own devices?”

“Pure unadulterated fun,” Orlando laughs.

“And speaking of responsibility, young lady,” Monica points over her shoulder at Micheala. “Do you always just hop in a car with two men you don’t know?”

“Not usually, but I trust these two,” Micheala answers. “And you’re here, too.”

“Silly fool of a girl you are,” Orlando says. “I wouldn’t trust Elijah any further than I could throw him.”

“I trust Elijah,” Monica says, as if that should be explanation enough.

“Well, I trust Elijah. It’s you I’m not so sure about,” she teases, squeezing his shoulder.

Monica laughs aloud with me. “She is smarter than I gave her credit for.” I pull up to the gas station. I turn to Monica and ask, “Do you want anything?”

“I don’t know. I’ll know once I get inside,” she says, getting out of the car.

Orlando jumps out quickly, runs around the car, and opens Micheala’s door for her. “Oooh, a gentleman,” she croons. “I didn’t think those existed any more.” He extends an arm gracefully to escort her into the station. If I didn’t know Orlando so well, I would swear he is actually infatuated with this girl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whoa love the conversations between these people, big riot heh! More?

Peiyu, I'm gonna post the next few chapters in a little bit. Hopefully, I can catch up to where I was on EWFN quickly and then continue from there.

I am so honored to see that you are reading this! *Bows humbly to Peiyu* I've loved your stories even if I wasn't always faithful at replying like I should. Are you going to continue "When the Girls Scare the Men" over there or should I read over here?

Through Orlando’s Eyes

“What kind do you want?� I ask her.

“Marlboro Light 100’s hard pack,� she replies, pulling her ID and cash out of her pocket.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it. It’s just a few bucks.�

“I really can pay for my own bad habits,� she argues.

“Sweetie, stop the independent woman bullshit and just let me pay.� I toss a 20-dollar bill on the counter before she can argue any further. “Two boxes of Marlboro Light 100s please.�

A bell rings behind us as Elijah enters and walks towards the restrooms. Monica heads to the back of the store where the sodas are stored. The clerk hands me my change and we step back outside. I pass one pack of cigarettes to Micheala to pack and smack the other against my thigh. After unwrapping the pack, she turns one upside down and puts it back in the pack then pulls out another.

“What the hell are you doing?� I ask.

“That’s my lucky fuck cigarette. It’s always the last one in the pack that I smoke,’ she explains.

“And after that one do you get lucky?�

She shrugs. “No, but I can keep wishing.�

I start to light my cigarette. Micheala grabs my arm. “I don’t know about England but here they kind of frown on you smoking at a gas station. Rumor has it that gas explodes.�

“Okay fine.� I grab her hand and drag her out closer to the road. “Happy your highness? Now nothing will explode.�

“We’ll see about that. The night is still young.� She waits for me to light my cigarette and allows me light hers. “So what is a charming British man doing in a place like L.A?�

“I came over here for work. Elijah told me it was a great place.�

“And was he right?�

“I guess. So far. Haven’t really had much to complain about. You?�

“In the past couple years, not really. Nikki and Monica moved here with me so that made it easier.�

“Aww… Too afraid to move here alone.�

“Not really. I got a good job offer and we were all sick of Dallas, so here we are. Found a house for the three of us and now I can’t get rid of them.� She waves a hand at the store where Monica is still perusing the aisles. “They can’t even leave my social life alone.�

I chuckle. “I can see that. At least it gave me an excuse to come over and talk to you. Sometimes all it takes is a little push from friends.�

“Oh, is that your excuse, too?� Micheala cocks her head to one side. “Admit it, you never would have come over to our table.�

Now is my turn to blush for the first time. “Can you keep a secret?�

“Oooh I love secrets.�

“I had kind of been checking you out from upstairs. But when I got Nikki’s note I was a little thrown off. I almost didn’t come over there. Elijah all but walked me over there himself.�

“Orlando! Micheala! Get your asses over here!� Elijah storms across the parking lot towards us, Monica in tow with her heels clicking loudly on the pavement.

“Well, I don’t know whether to be flattered or not,� Micheala ignores Elijah. “Does that mean you were scared of me?�

“Yea, but in a good way.�

“Would you two get your asses back in the car,� Elijah points behind him. “I’m never taking you children anywhere again.�

“Yea, What the hell are you doing all the way out there, anyway? There are crazy people out there,� Monica chides.

“Mon, we are the crazy people out here!� Micheala throws back. As she prances back towards the car, she cries, “Please Dad can’t we go to the zoo, too?�

“No, sweetie,� I yell back. “We’re going home.�

Elijah arches one eyebrow at me. “Already?�

“Shut up!�
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Billy’s Eyes

“About time you guys came back,� I cry as the two nicotine fiends, their chauffeur, and chaperone return to the bar and join us at the pool table. “Did Orlando find a secluded place to sneak Mike off to or something?�

“Billy, don’t make me kill you within hours of meeting you,� Micheala threatens.

“You already tried and failed. Would you like to take another shot, little girl?�

“Billy, you really don’t want to ask that question,� Nikki warns me. “She may be little but she can still kick your ass. She is a former hockey goalie.�

Elijah grins. “Well, now I’m impressed.�

“Thank you thank you,� Micheala attempts a bow, but stumbles forward.

“Whoa there! Remember you’ve been drunking,� Orlando catches her.

Micheala just giggles. “Yea, and it’s been a half hour since I’ve had anything to drink. Time to head back to the bar.�

“I’d say you need a round of coffee,� I speculate.

“I’d say you need someone to teach you how to play pool.�

“Bring it on, Mike. I’ll leave you crying in your beer.�

“Eww… beer. That shit is just nasty! You might as well give me a bottle of cold piss.�

“I’ll toast to that,� Monica, who has already managed to get a drink from the bartender, raises her Cosmopolitan.

Nikki giggles. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?�

“Because I never miss an opportunity to drink,� Monica agrees with her friend.

“How’d you manage to get that drink so fast?� Elijah asks, impressed. “For us it takes at least 5 minutes to place a drink order, let alone actually get it.�

Monica shrugs and grins. “I have my ways.�

“Maybe we ought to keep you around.�

“Maybe,� she repeats with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey Mike! Are you ready to lose,� I rerack the balls on the pool table.

“Just for calling me Mike, I’m gonna beat you senseless again,� she spats.

Nikki laughs. “Billy, that’s what we refer to here in the States as an Irish temper.�

“That’s what we call it in Ireland, too.�

Micheala steps up to the table with pool cue in hand. “Let’s go Billy. I’m about to teach you about ass-kicking.�

“I want Micheala on my team,� Orlando requests.

“I’m gonna play all alone?� I whine.

“You play with yourself all the time,� Dom smarts much to everyone else’s amusement.

Nikki stands and offers, “Billy, I’ll be your partner.�

“Orlando, you can break while I get another drink,� instructs Micheala.

“I’ll break while you watch,� Orlando argues. “You can wait a little longer before you have another drink, sweetie. I know you have the willpower.�

Monica snorts. “You obviously aren’t a very good judge of character. Look at her little temper tantrum over cigarettes earlier.�

Micheala crosses her arms and pouts. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum. I just wanted a smoke.�

Orlando mocks her and imitates her facial expression. “It wasn’t a temper tantrum, I just wanted a smoke.�

“You are so mean!� Micheala crosses the few steps between them and begins tickling him.

“No! Please! No tickling,� he gasps out between laughter.

“Do you promise to stop? You won’t make fun of me anymore?�

“Yes, I swear.�

Micheala releases Orlando.

“But how will you know if I like you if I don’t tease you?�

“I don’t know if you like me or if you’re just scared of me.�

Orlando blushes. “I didn’t say I was scared of you.�

“Are we back in grade school?� Monica asks rhetorically. Nikki rolls her eyes at her friends.

Elijah defends our friend. “Believe it or not, Orlando isn’t the ladies man he thinks he is.�

Micheala saunters over and flings an arm around Elijah’s shoulder. “Oh do tell all his deep dark secrets.�

“I would never tell a friend’s secrets. Let’s just say that he gets a little intimidated by beautiful women.�

“Well, when you find one let me know,� Micheala grabs the blue chalk from the side of the table. “Orlando, are you ready to break?�

Orlando glances at her puzzled, but leans down to shoot.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ]

Through Nikki’s Eyes

Wow! Micheala actually seems smitten with this guy. I thought we had chosen well, but not this well. Who would have thought that tonight of all nights she might actually find someone she is attracted to. Orlando’s turn to shoot comes up as Billy scratches. Micheala finishes what she is saying as he steps away and follows his every move. When he sinks one of their balls, she applauds and cries, “Go ‘Orli. Eat that, Billy!”

“Hey, stay away from me woman,” he backs away from her.

Micheala puts on her pouty face and baby voice. “Aren’t you ever going to forgive me?

Orlando steps up behind her and puts his right hand on her shoulder. “How can you resist that, man?”

As I reach the side of the table for my turn, Billy answers him. “Easy, she assaulted me and thinks you’re cute. There must be many things wrong with her.”

I can’t wait to hear the response to that, so I rest my cue stick on the edge of the table.

Micheala looks over her shoulder. “Was that supposed to be a shot at you or me?”

“I think it was both. Who should kill him?” Orlando answers.

“He doesn’t know me nearly well enough to know just how nuts I am. I say we let him live at least until the end of the night,” Micheala suggests.

“Oh yeah, fine because you don’t have to go home with him in the end.”

Monica speaks up. “I don’t think Billy is the one she wants to go home with.”

That peaks Orlando’s interest. “And who might she like to go home with?”

“The way she’s drinking- the bartender.”

Micheala sticks her tongue out at Monica. “I’m not that desperate.”

“So Mike, are you saying you’re just desperate tonight?” Dom asks from the table he shares with Elijah and Monica.

“That explains why she finds pretty boy attractive,” Billy pipes in, as I line up my shot. “This is a classic case of beer goggles.”

That sends me into a burst of giggles and I lose control of the pool cue, sending the cue ball across the table.

“That counts,” Orlando yells.

“I had nothing to do with the selection process,” Micheala defends herself.

Before she can finish, I pipe in. “Her standards were only that he have a nice smile, eyes, and normal hair.”

“You call that normal,” questions Dom.

“But I’m not complaining about the selection,” Micheala finishes. “He comes with a few of my other requirements, too.”

“Must not be the hair or the clothes,” comments Dom.

Orlando exclaims, “Guys, I’m standing right here.”

“We know, hon,” Micheala gives him a half-hug before going to the table for her shot. “But if we didn’t tease you how would you know if we liked you.”

“I think I would rather feel unloved.”

“8 Ball far side pocket,” Micheala yells at the same time as “Last call for alcohol,” is announced over a loud speaker.

“Come on Micheala, this will win us the game,” Orlando cheers her on.

“But no pressure, Mike,” adds Billy. “This could be the only game you win.”

With a sly smile, Micheala lines up her shot and cleanly sinks the ball.

Billy shakes his head. “Well, there’s a first time for everything.”

Orlando picks Micheala up in a hug and swings her around.

Monica cries, "Orlando, unless you want that ugly shirt accented with puke, I wouldn't do that to her."

Orlando sets the small girl down and she weaves her way over to the table. "I'm not drunk and I'm not gonna be sick."

"Good because I'm not taking care of you if you are." Monica sticks her tongue out at her friend.

I join the others around the table while Orlando and Billy put the pool cues away. "Are you two ready to go home?" Micheala's face falls. Monica and I notice as she looks sadly at Orlando as he rejoins the crowd.

"I'm kind of hungry, Nik. We didn't have much of a dinner. What do you say we hit IHOP or something? That way Cheala can have some coffee and sober up a little more," suggests Monica, cocking her head to Micheala and the man behind her.

"Hey, that sounds good," Elijah joins in.

“Yeah!” shout Dom and Billy in unison.

I glance at my watch. Well, no late-night visits to Jason. I’ll just see him tomorrow. “Let me call Jason and tell him I can’t come over. Then we can go,” I say.

“Yeah!” Micheala cheers. “Tell Jason I love him!”

“I thought you loved me,” Elijah teases.

“I do. I love Jason, too.”

“But you just like ‘Orli?” Billy says.

“And we know you hate ‘Billy. But, what about me?” Dom says. “Do you have an inkling for me, too?”

“Rob, she doesn’t have an inkling for anybody,” Monica teases.

“You people are fucking insane!” I declare. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, wait,” Elijah says. “You can use my cell phone.” He hands me a small, sleek silver phone.

“Thanks,” I say, turning slightly to make my phone call. I can still hear their conversations as Jason’s phone rings. “Hey, Sexy, it’s me.”

“What? Who is this? You’re not my Grandma!” he teases.

“Shut up, you ass,” I laugh. “Look, I’m not gonna be able to make it over tonight.” I hear him pout on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, love.”

We’re silent for a moment, just listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. Then, out of the blue, Jason asks, “Hey, where are you calling from? My phone says cellular call, but it doesn’t say ‘FoxyLady’ like it’s supposed to.”

I hesitate for a moment, then tell him, “I’ll tell ya later. It’s kind of a story that needs to be told in person, love. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Mm-hmm,” I say with a smile in my voice. With that, I end the call and return Elijah's phone. We all parade out to the parking lot. "We're parked over there," I point to Cheala's Tahoe.

Dom motions to Elijah's black Mercury Cougar, a few cars down the row – mostly for my benefit since Monica and Cheala had already ridden in it. "There's the Mack daddy mobile."

That sends Micheala into a fit of giggles, which Orlando quickly joins. "Elijah? Mack Daddy? That is the biggest oxymoron I've ever heard."

"C'mon! Let's go! I want food!" Orlando starts dragging her towards Elijah's car.

"We took Elijah's car last time," she whines. "I wanna go in my car."

"Nikki won't give up the keys."

"No she won't," I agree.

"And don't even think of asking me," Elijah states. "Pick a car and get in it so we can go.”

"I wanna go in the Tahoe." Orlando starts that direction, pulling Micheala after him. "Bigger backseat."

"Who said you could go with us?" Monica cries after him. "Go with your own friends."

"We don't want him. You can keep him." Billy runs for the Cougar.

"Okay I will," Micheala yells back. "My car, Orli comes with. Hey, chauffeur let's go."

"Oh, she did not." Even in my heels, I can run after Micheala. With the remote entry, I open my door, climb in, and get comfortable, before opening any other doors.

"Nikki, you are never driving my car again. Who do you think you are locking me out?”

"I am the SuperDiva and you are just the drunk horny girl."

Orlando nods, impressed. "This is yours? Who's your sugar daddy?"

"I don't have one, yet. When I do find one, I'll make sure he buys me a BMW." Micheala snuggles up to him.

"No making out back there," Monica warns, climbing in not so gracefully." There will be no shenanigans in this car."

Micheala sticks her tongue out. "Again – my car, my rules."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Monica’s Eyes

When we arrive at the IHOP, there is the inevitable argument about whether we sit in smoking or non-smoking. Fortunately, the non-smokers outnumber the nicotine addicts and we win. Orlando and Micheala follow the hostess to a long table at the back of the restaurant next to the windows. He politely waits for her to slide into the booth before sitting next to her. Billy and then Dom sit across from them with their backs to the window. I awkwardly sit next to Dom and Nikki elegantly seats herself beside me. Elijah takes the remaining spot next to Orlando to keep the two drunks in line.

After we all order, Nikki is explaining details of what she does at the furniture store to Billy, who is interested in desks, and seems to have a thing for ornate wooden boxes… must be an Irish thing. Orlando and Micheala are talking loudly and wildly about everything under the sun. Dom is listening to everyone’s conversations, throwing in his two cents wherever he deems necessary. I am sitting, quietly, across the table from the biggest blue eyes I have ever seen.

“You see,” Nikki is saying, “the details of carved pieces depends more on the wood than anything else. If you have a rich cherry…” She stops herself for a moment and then laughs. “I’m sitting here talking about wood and cherries with you fools!” Dom and Billy burst with laughter.

“I wondered when you’d figure it out!” Dom says. “’Billy just wanted you to talk about wood with him!”

“No, I was really interested in the furniture!” Billy says with a snicker. “Honest.” Nevertheless, he’s falling over on the table laughing.

“And I thought I was bad,” Micheala chimes in.

“You are bad,” I say, glancing across the table at my friend, who is huddled in the corner. She’s so small that she has her legs crossed on the seat, and is leaning against Orlando, who has his arm around her shoulders. "Your mind lives in the gutter."

"Well, that's the first thing all night to make me like you Mike." Billy nods.

"I'm still looking for something to like about you," she shoots back.

Hugging her, Orlando suggests, "Give him a little more time. Once he stops calling you Mike, I'm sure you'll love him."

"We'll see. I'm hard to please."

"She's a spoiled brat is more like it," I point out. "Give her own way or you'll get a temper tantrum."

"I'm not that bad," she whines.

"Sweetie, I saw you throw a temper tantrum over cigarettes within minutes of meeting you." Orlando kisses her on the cheek. The whole table oohs, ahhs, and generally teases Orlando for his kiss while Micheala blushes.

"Okay, stop it you two. People are trying to eat here," Nikki reprimands.

Billy moans, "We can't eat if we don't ever get our damn food."

"That's 'Billy always thinking with his stomach," points out Elijah.

I smile, "Better than 'Orli over there thinking with a lower part of his anatomy."

"Shut up, Mon," Micheala defends him. "It's not like he's trying to kiss on you."

"Thank god! He's not my type anyway."

Elijah grins. "And Mon, just what is your type?"

"Lenny Kravitz," Nikki and Micheala shout at the same time. Unfortunately, my friends know me better than I wish they did.

"What can I say," I shrug. "I have an eye for fine men."

Micheala coughs, but it sounds vaguely like "Bullshit!"

"Oh, you little cow!"

"Mooooo…." Micheala giggles. The men all stare at her in shock. "What?"

"Mike, you just moo'd!" Billy shakes his head.

"Stop calling me that!"

Nikki holds up her hands. "Okay, will someone tell me in detail why Mike and Billy hate each other after having just met."

They both try to speak at once, but Micheala yields the floor to Billy and scoots closer to Orlando, resting her head on his shoulder.

"She hurt me! Swinging a pool cue around like a mad woman and whacked me right in the stomach! Woman, at least look at what you're doing when you play pool," explains Billy.

"I was! I was watching the ball I was shooting for."

Nikki looks across Dom and me at Billy. "A little lower and she could have been shooting for your balls."

"Then I would really have had to kill her. Monica would have been picking up little elf pieces off the floor by the time she came back to rescue me," he replies.

Elijah sighs. "Man, for the last time… she is too short to be an elf."

"Yeah," I correct him. "She's a gnome."

Micheala looks up to Orlando for help. "Help me, please. Save me from these crazy fuckers."

“Save her from herself,” I say. Then to Micheala, I add, “Anyway, you chose us.

“I didn’t choose you – you were forced upon me!”

“She forced herself upon you!” Billy shouts.

“Why can’t we ever be around for the good stuff?” Dom bemoans.

“No kidding. I’d love to have seen that.” A far-off glaze overtakes Billy’s eyes, and a silly grin is on his face.

“You two are just foul,” I shriek.

“Yeah, you two. Knock it off,” Elijah reprimands. “There are ladies present.”

“Ladies?” Micheala and Nikki question in unison. Nikki glances under the table as Micheala looks all around her. “I don’t see any ladies here,” Nikki reports.

“Whatever,” I moan. “Nikki’s no lady… she’s Satan. And Cheala’s just a gnome. But I am most definitely a lady,” I say, flipping my hair.

“Stop calling me that! I am not a gnome” Micheala cries.

“Whatever, gnome!”

“See what I have to live with? Again- please save me from these fuckers?”

Orlando grins at my nickname for her, but sympathizes. "Why don't we go for a smoke before the food gets here?"

I spy the waitress over their heads, approaching with a very large tray. "Too late, you butt suckers. Here comes our food!" Dom and Billy cheer very loudly as she sets the tray down beside our table.

The waitress smiles. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy to see their food."

Billy smiles back, "Because you've never seen anyone as hungry as we are. Bring it on."

"I don't know if I want to be sitting across from him when he digs into his trough," Micheala observes.

"You may not. But I'll protect you from any flying food." Orlando accepts her plate from the waitress and sets her strawberry crepes, cinnamon-apple pancakes, and bacon in front of her.

As we all dig into our respective plates, conversation breaks down into several small groups.

Micheala and Orlando are staying very quiet in their corner, still cuddled together and occasionally stealing food from each other's plates. I chat with Billy and Dom about interesting places to spend time. Even though we have lived in L.A. for over a year, there is still a lot of territory that we have not explored. Elijah and Nikki begin talking about hockey and eventually veer off to talking about Minnesota and Philadelphia – their respective places of birth. When they begin discussing music, I join their conversation with my seemingly unending knowledge of any genre of music in the world. It turns out Elijah and I like a lot of the same bands.

Once Micheala has finished her crepes and a pancake, Orlando begins stealing her remaining bacon from her plate – his being already polished off. "'Orli, make her eat her own food. She never finishes it," I switch into motherly mode.

"Because my eyes are always bigger than my stomach," she groans. "I'm stuffed, tired, and need a nic fix."

"Then go get a smoke, and stop whining about it, hon," suggests Nikki.

"I'll go with you and protect you from all the nuts out there at," Orlando glances at his watch. "Oh damn, three-thirty, already!"

Elijah lets them out of the booth.

As the pair walks away, Dom comments, "Yeah, I'm sure he's really going with her to protect her."

Nikki mutters, “Yeah, but who’s gonna protect him from her.”

When they’re out of earshot, I just have to say, “Dude, what’s the deal with the shirt? I mean, it’s hideous! I’ve been wanting to order a hot dog from him all night. All he needs is the paper hat.” Nikki slaps the table and laughs out loud, as does everyone else.

“Oh, really?” Nikki croons. “Has Orlando’s hot dog been on your mind all night, Monica?” Billy and Dom burst into fits of laughter.

“EW!” I exclaim in disgust. “Orlando can keep his wiener to himself. I certainly don’t want it.” Nikki, Dom, and Billy are hysterical. Even Elijah is laughing at this gross conversation. He rests his forehead in his hand and looks up at me with laughing eyes. He’s adorable. When he grows up, he’s going to be fighting ‘em off with a stick.

“But, what about the buns?” Dom asks between sputters of laughter.

“What buns?” Nikki answers. “He has no ass. I’m sorry, folks, but that boy would put Mrs. Baird’s out of business.”

“Who’s Mrs. Baird?” Billy asks.

Nikki looks at him like he’s crazy. “The bread lady…” She then looks around the table to see that all the guys are confused. She looks at me and I glance around the table at the guys, too. Nikki shakes her head. “I lived in Dallas waaaay too long.”

“Mrs. Baird is the biggest bread brand in Texas. Their motto is `Texas Born. Texas Bread’. Just a little F.Y.I.,” I say.

“Interesting,” Billy says. Dom elbows him in the side. They start laughing again. Nikki and I glance at each other and roll our eyes.

“So, what else interesting can you tell us about Dallas?” Elijah asks with a grin.

“There’s really not anything interesting about Dallas,” Nikki says. “The best thing about Dallas left it a year ago,” she says kind of quietly, with a slight smile.

Elijah looks at her intensely, waiting for her explanation. I can tell by looking at his face that Nikki doesn’t need to say a word… he already understands what she’s not saying. “That’s where you met Jason,” he says.

Nikki’s face breaks into a glorious smile. “Yes. That’s where I met him. But he lives here, now.”

“He moved all the way to L. A. to be with you? He must have some very strong feelings for you.”

“No, I’m just that damn good, babe,” Nikki says, resting her chin in her hand.

Billy laughs. “And how did you meet him?”

“A friend of his… did some work for me,” she answers coyly.

“Mexican gardener?” Dom says.

“No,” Nikki says. “Cabana boy. He was wonderful.”

“What, exactly, does a cabana boy do?” Billy wonders.

“Anything you tell him to.”

“And are there benefits?” Dom asks.

“Oh, I’d say there are,” Nikki teases.

“So, what does Jason do?” Elijah asks before Mutt and Jeff can run this conversation even further through the muck.

“He designs video games. He started his own company in Dallas. Then, he moved out here and joined with a bigger company. So, the move was a good thing for him, on all ends.” Nikki flips her hair. “So, what do you guys do?”

Before Elijah can answer, Billy says, “I want to be a cabana boy.” The table erupts with laughter.

After several minutes of talking loudly and laughing louder, Dom, in typical Dom charm, blurts, “I’ve got to have a piss!” He motions us to let him out of the booth.

Nikki and I shake our heads. “I’m gonna go, too,” I say. “Be right back.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I :love: the way you describe people's interaction! I never got through to catch up with what you had written, I think this time I'll try to do my best, because I love your writing.

Keep it up!

:yay:

Indeed, love the interactions! Orlando and Mike are so pissed heh, and love the 'hatred' between Mike and Billeh!




p/s: I'm not going back to EWFN anymore. I'm extremely flattered you liked that :blush:

*Doing the happy dance* *Doing the happy dance* *Doing the happy dance*

I have Ursi and Peiyu reading my story. I have to admit that you are/were two of my favorite authors from previous forums and stories. [Geez, that sounded like such a teenybopper and I haven't been a teenager for quite a few years.] But sometimes some of the best compliments are when they come from peers or other writers that you respect. Thanks so much guys! Much hugs!

I'm gonna post a few more "chapters" (it feels so weird to call them chapters since all I'm really doing is changing the Point of view to help give some flavor to the narrative) tonight to finish off this first night. It's essential to the story but since it's stuff that I wrote almost a year ago and have proofread and edited again and again and again, it's not my fave part. I like it better as we get further into the story.

Anywho..... keep the comments coming girls!

Through Nikki’s Eyes

As Monica and Dom return from the bathroom, Micheala and Orlando are outside the window behind the group making faces at everyone. Now that we've met Orlando and his friends, I'm not sure who's the bigger lunatic- him or Micheala. Dom plops back down beside me and Monica slides back into the booth next to Elijah.

"Did I miss anything besides the two crazy people outside," Dom asks. As he comments on them, they turn away from the window. Micheala wraps her arms around herself as if she's cold. Orlando throws away his cigarette and folds her into his arms to warm her up.

"Nope, they've been our entertainment for the past few minutes," I confirm. "Don't any of you have to be up early tomorrow?"

"I don't really have any projects going on right now," Elijah replies. "We'll probably all crash at Orlando's place tonight so I don't have to drive everyone home."

"No work here until Monday," Dom adds. "Monday through Friday nine to five. It's a nice schedule."

I sigh. "Must be nice. I close tomorrow so I have to be in at three o'clock."

"So you'll be leaving by the time these other two are sober and wake up?"

"Probably. Although Monica will sleep all day just for the hell of it. She's such a slug."

"Aren't they cute?" Monica squeals. We all turn around in time to witness Orlando and Micheala kissing.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Billy comments.

Returning to my last comment, Monica throws her napkin me. "I am not. I am just a master at the fine art of snoozing."

"Is that what you call it?"

"Yes. You're just jealous that I work real hours and you have to go in and slave tomorrow."

"No not really."

Elijah interrupts as he flags the waitress over for our check. "Ladies, seeing as how it's almost sunrise and you have to work, Nikki, I think it's time we all called it a night."

"Not to mention that the children seem to have wandered away," Monica points to the window behind us. "I'm not sure if I'm more concerned for Micheala's safety or his."

I roll my eyes. "Great! At least they can't go anywhere. We still have the keys."

The waitress hands Elijah the check. He looks it over and folds it in half, keeping it in his hand. “We'll have to do this again sometime. Minus the two drunk horny children."

"Things are always so much quieter without Micheala around. How much do we owe, Elijah?" asks Monica.

"I've got it; don't worry about it. Someone else can pick it up next time." He slides it into his shirt pocket.

I search through my purse for a pen and paper. "Give us a call next weekend and maybe we can do something." I take the pen that Monica has slipped from her purse – she knows I never have one on me – and scribble our home phone number as well as my cell and Micheala's. "You may need to give that to Orlando in the morning. I don't think Micheala would even remember her number right now."

Elijah borrows the pen to scribble down their numbers for us as well.

We all progress to the front and wait as Elijah pays the cashier. As we step outside, Monica asks, "Did anyone see where Frick and Frack went?"

"Is there a motel nearby?" jokes Billy. "There may be something going on that we don't want to interrupt."

I spy the two near Elijah's car. Micheala is sitting on the trunk. Orlando is standing between her legs and they are making out like mad fiends. "I don't care. I'll interrupt." I yell across the parking lot, "Hey Mike, let's get going."

Elijah laughs at me. "I don't think they're gonna hear you."

"Oh, ye of little faith – I'll make them hear me." In my no-nonsense mood, I stroll across the parking lot. When I get closer to them, I yell again. "Mike, let's go. I gotta get some sleep." That still draws no response from either of them. I finally tap Orlando on the shoulder. "Sorry to ruin your game, playa, but this young lady needs to go home." I glance over to see four others watching the exchange with much amusement. Neither he nor Micheala move except for separating their lips and looking at me.

Micheala rolls her eyes. "Yes, ma'am. We're going as soon as Elijah gets out here with the keys."

"Hon, Elijah's keys won't do you any good. I think you're a little confused. Your car is over there and you need to go with me."

"Nope, sorry don't think so. I'll get a cab back home in the morning."

I blatantly laugh in her face. “Okay what part of we’re leaving don’t you get, hon? You haven’t had that much alcohol.”

Orlando flashes a deer in the headlights look not sure if he should run or stand perfectly still as if he isn’t there.

“Fine. Leave. Go. I’ll see you in the morning.” Smarts Micheala.

I clap my hands in fake amusement. “Okay, this has been really fun, but I’m tired so either you walk your little gnome ass over there and get in the car or I will drag you over there. Your choice. A or B?”

Micheala ponders this for a second. “I choose C -none of the above.”

“Let me rephrase this. You have no choice. There will be one end result. The only choice you have is how you get your ass over to that Tahoe. And for one second don’t even think that I won’t move you there myself – your new little boyfriend or not.” I drop the volume of my voice. “I can bet none of these guys will stop me.”

Elijah steps up to his car. “Hey… whoa…. Is there a problem here guys? Orli, as much as ‘Billy and Dom would like to see two women fight it out, I think it’s time for us to head out.”

I shift my wrath to Orlando. “Yes, it is time for us to go. Step away from the gnome.”

Micheala opens her mouth to protest, but when I shoot her the ‘Don’t-even-fuck-with-me’ look, she quickly changes her mind.

Monica joins the fray. “Okay kids, it’s been fun, but we don’t want this to turn ugly.”

I spout, “Oh it already is.”

“Cheala I know you hate us right now, but in the morning you’ll understand…”

“Why it’s not a good idea not to go home with someone you don’t know,” I finish for her. I turn to Orlando. “No offense, hon.”

Orlando takes a small step back. “Umm… yeah… none taken.”

Reluctantly, Micheala slides off the back of the car. “Fine. I’ll go home.” She stomps away to the Tahoe without another word. She stands outside the car with her arms crossed. “Are you gonna open the damn door or what?”

I dangle the keychain from my hand. “I will open the damn door when I am good and ready to open the damn door.”

Monica sighs, “I just love drunks.”

I apologize, “Sorry for the scene- you know how stubborn gnomes can be.”

“Especially drunk ones.”

“I did have a great time. We’ll have to do this again. Maybe next time you can meet Jason.”

“No problem. We understand about drunks,” Elijah nods to Orlando who is now sulking against the side of the car.

“Well, let’s get the kiddies home and tucked into bed.” Monica and I wave over our shoulders as we stroll over to our car. I unlock the doors and order Micheala, “Get your ass in there.”

At our car, Micheala grumpily climbs into the back seat. She folds her arms and pouts, refusing to say a word to either of us. The long ride home is spent in silence, except for the radio blaring to keep me awake.

Once home, Micheala storms into the house while we slowly stroll inside. "Do we wanna face her temper now or in the morning?" Monica asks.

"I'll face her temper now," I reply. "No sense in putting it off."

When we enter the house, Micheala is already plucking a bottle of water out of the fridge. She wastes no time in confronting me. "If you want to interfere in my fucking social life, at least let me do what I want afterwards. I am a big girl and know when I do and don't want to come home and or who I want to go home with."

"Not when you're drunk," I yell back. "You went out there tonight with the intention of getting drunk and finding some guy you wanted to fuck."

"With help from you two. I may have had that on my mind, but it didn't mean I was gonna act on it until you invite some guy over to our table for drinks and the intention of fixing me up with him."

“That’s right! Just fix you up with him- not go home and sleep with him.”

“What I do is my business. If I wanted a mother always interfering in my life, I could go back home. From now on stay the fuck out of my romantic life.”

“Okay, so next time we should let you just go home with a ran Dom stranger and get raped or murdered or whatever. But we’ll be staying out of your fucking romantic life. And how romantic is swapping spit with a stranger with alcohol and cigarette breath in a parking lot.”

Monica coyly quips, “I guess it was something about the moonlight.”

“So if caring about the well being of my friend is so wrong, sue me. If you wanna end up dead in a gutter fine, do it. I don’t care. Fuck this! I’m going to bed. I’m not arguing with a fucking drunk.”

Micheala yells up the stairs after me. “Fine! So long as you leave me do what I want and not your bidding next time.” Her answer is the slam of my bedroom door. I stand by the door, and can still hear the conversation downstairs.

Monica calmly explains. “You know she’s right. You don’t know him from Adam. Getting in a car with four strange men is not a good idea. And you may have had the intention of only having some fun tonight, but what if their idea of fun differs from yours? I don’t really believe that those guys would try to hurt you, but you don’t know them any better than I do. Do you really wanna take a chance with your life like that? We don’t. Taking you out was for your own good and bringing you home was for your own good as well. We knew that you would regret going home with him even if it were of your own bidding.” I hear Monica climb the stairs and close her bedroom door.

I hear the thud of the water bottle hitting the door and then a harsh “Fuck!” as Micheala stomps off to bed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Dom’s Eyes

From the backseat, I observe Orlando brooding, his head leaning on the passenger window. After much consideration and too much silence, I decide to say what we all have been thinking. “Man, you know you should’ve backed off. You should have told her to go home.”

“No fuck,” murmurs Elijah from the drivers seat

“Wow…. Lij actually said the f word! Ohhhhhhhh! I’m telling your mum!” Billy chides.

“I’m serious!” Elijah retorts.

“Yea like a heart attack” Billy chuckles.

Orlando turns in his seat to look at me. “Look Dom, she was into me, and I was into her. What would have been the harm in us both having some fun tonight?”

“Do you really want me to break this down for you?”

“Yea, as a matter of fact I would. Please be so kind as to tell me why you think I should have told a girl who was hot for me to go home. Cause I can’t think of any reasons right now!”

“That might be because you’re not thinking with your head.” Elijah added.

“Oh he is, just not the one his neck.” Billy quips.

“Reason number one…you’re not thinking the way they are. I mean you didn’t have to worry about your safety when you got in the car with them.”

“Well, neither did she. We all know none of us would have tried anything…”

I cut Orlando off, “Right, WE knew but THEY didn’t. How many times have you read about a women being raped or killed by a man she knew. Or thought she knew. My god man, are you that dense? Did you not notice that Monica went with you guys for cigarettes? She didn’t trust either of you. And Elijah looks as dangerous as a flea.”

“She could have wanted something from the store herself.” Orlando points out. True to form, always looking for excuses to prove his point when he knows he’s losing.

“Riiiiight…. or maybe she just wanted to get closer to the kid.” My comment actually gets laughs from everyone, including Orlando.

“Naw,” Billy puts in his two cents, “she’s WAY out of his league.”

Elijah just smiles and shakes his head, “But seriously, Orli, tell me you’re starting to see our point. These girls are just looking out for one another.”

Reluctantly Orli nods, “I guess…but…”

“No buts man,” I stare at him intently, “These girls traveled across the country for friendship- because one of them got a better job offer and they wanted to look out for her. Don’t put a strain on things.”

Billy and Elijah agree with me and we ride the rest of the way home in silence. When we get to the apartment, Orlando solemnly goes to his room while the rest of us find places to crash. It’s been a long night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Elijah’s Eyes

I am still sitting awake staring at the flickering television screen- an infomercial for some new cooking product of all things. There really is nothing good on at 5 AM. How is it that everyone else passed out and for the first time I can remember, I'm fighting insomnia? From the faint glow of the infomercial, I see a shadow sneak around the edge of the living room and move towards the kitchen. I turn to watch it. When the refrigerator opens, I see Orlando's outline against the bright light searching for something in the fridge. Barefoot, I silently move towards the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. As he pulls a glass from a cupboard, I whisper, "Pour one for me too while you're up."

Orlando jumps. "Jesus! You scared the fuck out of me. I thought I was the only one awake," he says, taking another glass out of the cabinet.

I shake my head. "No, I found this intriguing infomercial for knives that can cut steel and I couldn't resist."

"Sounds positively fascinating.” He pours us each a glass of water.

"Think I might order two or three sets. Maybe save them for Christmas presents," I tease, as I reach for the glass.

"Well, you can count me off that list. The last time I cooked anything I almost burned down my mum's house."

I laugh. "I would believe that. So why can't you sleep?"

"I've just been lying in there thinking since we got home."

"What were you thinking?” I lean my elbows against the counter.

He waves a finger in my face. "Oh no! We aren't playing this game again."

"Okay what were you thinking about? Is that better?"

He answers simply. "Her."

"Well that could be three girls from tonight alone. And then if we add the hundreds of thousands that you have known since I met you…"

"You know exactly which girl I'm talking about. There are so many ‘what ifs’."

"Like what if we hadn't talked some sense into the two of you?" I suggest. "Or what if you were in your room right now shagging her?"

That brings a devilish smile to his face. "A little."

"Then she would just be like one of however many girls you have had in that bedroom after a long night of partying and drinking. I liked her because she didn’t seem like the girls that are usually all over you in a parking lot. And I don't think I would have been able to forgive you. How do you think she would feel about you in the morning?"

"Kind of the way I'm feeling right now."

I’m taken back by that answer. Something that was said tonight did get through to him. "What were you thinking tonight?"

"Maybe I was thinking it would be fun to be with someone nice and sweet for a change. Maybe I was thinking I could have some fun. I just wanted to enjoy myself. Or maybe I wasn't thinking at all. Why do I always have to think of things? Why can't I just do something without having to worry about what's going to happen the next day?"

"Because there are always consequences. You know that as well as I do… and have experienced it far more than I have."

"Yes I have. Maybe I was thinking that for once it could be different… I could be different." He leans against the counter and appears to be deep in thought.

"I didn't ask what you were maybe thinking. I was asking what you were really thinking."

He goes over to the dining room table and sits down. "That I was with someone nice and sweet. I know that I don’t really know her, and I may have been drunk, but I did notice a difference in the way you guys treated her. I noticed a difference in the way I treated her.” He pauses and looks up at me, as if he’s pondering whether to say the thoughts that are in his head. After a moment, he continues, “When I came here, I didn’t know anything – not where I wanted to go, not really what I wanted to do, and certainly not who I wanted to be. Now, I know where I want to go… in a way, and I know what I want to do… in a way. But, more importantly, I know better who I want to be.” He downs half his glass of water and sighs. “I’m sick of the guy who moved here. Maybe it's time that the old Orlando went back to England and the new Orlando moves to the States."

I think of all that he just said, and I don’t think I could be prouder to call him my friend. I am so impressed. But I can’t let him know that… not yet. "And what would the new Orlando be?"

"Like tonight?" he offers.

I laugh and pull a chair up to the table, too. "Tonight wasn't much different than any other night.” I stare at him, looking for signs to tell me the opposite. “I mean, you were drinking, she was drinking. She’s cute. She’s funny. You want her. She wants you… you would have fucked her.” There it is. It’s subtle. The only immediate response I receive is a clenching of his jaw, but at least I know that it got to him. He’s ashamed. Alright. I’ll stop with the Spanish Inquisition. “Or, maybe it really was different?” I offer.

"Yes it was. It had her in it." He grins. I don’t know exactly what he’s thinking about, but I know he is thinking about her.

"And what exactly makes her different than any other girl on any other night?" I cock my head to the side curiously.

"She was just Micheala and I was just Orlando. Two people who could tease each other and laugh and talk. Two people who weren't thrown together by circumstance."

“Well, you kind of were,” I point out, smartly.

“Only because we happened to be in the same place at the same time.”

I laugh, “Then maybe it’s fate.”

“Now you are even stranger than I ever thought Lij if you actually believe in fate and love at first sight and all that shit.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

Orlando shakes his head and takes another drink of his water. “Because it doesn’t happen. You don’t just meet someone and know right then and there that they are the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

“No, you just know that it’s a person you want to spend the rest of the night with.”

He threatens me with what remains in his glass of water. “I will make you wear this.”

I wonder if I should ask him the question that has been plaguing my thoughts for a while. The worst he can do is tell me to shut up. “What did you really think of her?”

“She was just so… wow! That’s all I can think of right now. She was unlike anyone I’ve ever met. She has some girlie qualities to her, but she isn’t like all these girls in L.A. And that mouth!”

Even I can’t help but laugh at that. All three of those girls could outtalk most people I’ve ever met.

“She’s real. She said what she wanted to say and did what she wanted to do and didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who just does what they want to do and everyone else be damned.”

“Oh and the fact that she was drunk and wanted to sleep with you had nothing to do with it?”

“If it did, would I still be laying awake thinking about her?”

I can’t argue with that. Maybe it was something we said to him, or maybe Orlando really is changing. I can only hope it’s for the better. I also can’t stop the yawn that sneaks up on me. “Dude, why don’t you just wait and see.” As I stand to return to the living room, I remember a slip of paper in my pocket. “Maybe this will come in handy for you.” I drop the girls phone numbers on the table beside his glass, tiptoe to the couch and turn off the television.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Man, I love how you write through all those different people's POVs and all. True about Mike (I can't spell the full name sorry :blush: ) not going back with Orlando just for a one-night stand. Love how the girls are looking out for one another, and the guys likewise.

And yes, I still adore the conversations. They flow so easily and so naturally! Gahh, I could imagine the lads saying all those words!




p/s: That was a huge compliment coming from you by the way :blush:

I agree with Peiyu here, I adore the way the story flows, it is really natural, just like a melodic chant, flowing in its beauty... and yes! Dealing with all those povs must be a great work!

:yes:

Through Monica’s Eyes

When I wake up the next day at noon and amble into the kitchen, Nikki is already sitting at the counter dressed for work and eating her Cap’n Crunch cereal. “Any sign on the drunken gnome?”

“Not yet, but the cats have been tearing ass around the house.” Nikki answers. “Maybe I can get out of here before it’s alive.”

I pour myself cranberry juice and settle at the counter across from her. “Oh and leave me here alone with her.”

“You’re just that lucky. At least you won’t kill her. I might.”

“Did you clean up the mess from last night?”

“Yea, the carpet was mostly dry by the time I woke up.”

We’re about twenty minutes into our respective sections of the newspaper when we hear the last door upstairs creak open. One slow set of footsteps is accompanied down the stairs by eight thundering paws. In true Strider grace, the smaller cat does a somersault down the last two steps. “Way to go Bubba,” Cheala mumbles. She shuffles into the kitchen and heads straight for her coffee pot. Without a glance at us, she mutters, “I don’t wanna hear a word.”

Nikki glances around the kitchen as if looking for a person that might say a word to Micheala about last night.

I look up from my newspaper, “And so it begins… the morning after the night that never happened.”

Nikki pauses; spoon halfway to her mouth, shakes her head and says one word. “Dork!”

Micheala shoots me a look that could have knocked me off the stool dead. “It happened and let’s move on. I met an incredible guy, Nikki forced me to come home and now I’m never gonna see him again.”

“You don’t even know him!” I exclaim. “You met him at a bar – a dark bar, when you were half-assed drunk. Maybe he was a nice guy, but don’t make this some drama about us denying you true love.” I toss back the rest of my cranberry juice and go for another. “And, anyway, how do you know he was wonderful? Yeah, you were having fun last night, but maybe that’s because you both were drunk. You at least need to spend some sober time with him to determine if he’s really worth it. And, if he is worth it, would you really have wanted to spend a drunken night with him, would you want him to remember you that way?”

“Shut up,” Micheala mutters.

“Whatever. I know I’m right.”

“Well, I can see where this is heading,” Nikki observes. She gets off her barstool and rinses out her bowl in the sink. “I would love to stay and pick up the bits and pieces after the cat-fight, but I’ve got to go to work.” As she gets to the door, she reaches in her purse and pulls out a tiny slip of paper. “By the way,” she starts, heading back to the counter where I’m sitting. She slides the paper in front of Cheala. “In case you’re interested, thought you might want this.” Nikki turns and continues out the door.

Only after Nikki departs, does Micheala look at the paper on the counter and realize it contains all of the guys’ numbers. “Oh my god!” she whispers.

“Maybe that’s Nikki’s way of giving you a hint,” I suggest. “Why don’t you try going out with him while you’re sober and see if he’s still Mr. Wonderful.” I set my glass in the sink and go to my room for a shower.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through Micheala’s Eyes

I sit at the counter in shock, staring at the paper. When did Nikki get these numbers? I don’t remember this ever happening. Does she really expect me to use them?

No, I can’t be the one that calls him. How do I possibly talk to this guy after last night? Maybe they are right. When you’re drunk every guy that pays attention to you is a god, but what might he think of me today?

Oh, what must they think of me today. I was such a bitch and yet Nikki went out of her way to get his number for me. But I don’t even know if I want to call him. Maybe I would rather just live with the impression from last night that he was the most wonderful guy in the world and the perfect guy for me rather than face the fact that they are right.

I could pick up the phone right now and prove them wrong. It could have always been something more than a beer goggles attraction. Some people believe in love at first sight after all. Why shouldn’t I be one of those people that have that fairy tale come true? Besides, face it Cheala, your friends have been right about your life more times than not and it would kill you to let them do it again.

I pace back and forth across the living room with the paper in hand. Strider and Mocha weave in and out of my legs, almost tripping me. Unconsciously, I reach for the cordless phone on the computer desk at one side of the living room and begin dialing a number from the paper.

“Hello?� a vaguely familiar voice says from the other end of the line.

At this point, I realize what I’ve done. “Umm… hi?� I glance down at the paper to see which number I really dialed. “Elijah?�

“Yea, who’s this?�

“Micheala… umm from last night… at the bar… IHOP.�

“Micheala I know who you are.�

“Well, today I’m not so sure that’s a good thing or not.�

Elijah chuckles. “And why wouldn’t it be?�

I sink into the couch. “Well, a lot of people aren’t too happy with me right now. I’m so sorry for last night.�

“There’s really nothing to be sorry for. How are you feeling?�

“I don’t get hungover.�

“Sure and Dom and ‘Billy aren’t both smartasses.�

“Now who’s being the smartass, Elijah?�

“Me. A couple people come down kind of hard on you last night?�

“I’m not quite sure when Nikki is going to speak to me again, but she did pass on a couple phone numbers to me. I’m just not so sure if anyone else on here would be willing to speak to me anymore.�

“Oh, I think Billy’s finally willing to forgive you. And Dom has liked you all along.�

“Elijah,� I moan as both cats appear on either side of me. “You know what I mean.�

Monica comes back down the stairs saying, “I forgot my towels are all in the dryer.� I try to wave to her to be quiet.

“Tell your mom that I say hi!� exclaims Elijah.

I hold the phone slightly away from my mouth. “Mon, Elijah says hi!�

Monica stops in her tracks and slowly turns to me, eyebrows raised. “What?�

“Elijah- you know your fellow chaperone from last night.� From the other end of the phone, Elijah chuckles.

“When did he call?�

“Hey, can’t you tell I’m on the phone here? How many conversations do you want me to have at one time?�

Monica goes to take a seat in the kitchen, so that she isn’t eavesdropping, but is still close enough to hear every word of my end of the conversation.

Elijah asks, “Listening to every word now isn’t she?�

“Of course. I can’t do anything without Moms one and two knowing. So, we’ve established that three out of six people don’t totally hate me. But umm… �

“What about ‘Orlando? Just say it Micheala. That’s what you want to know.�

“Well, I guess. How is he this morning?�

“Would you love me forever if I told you he’s standing right here?� From the background, I can hear Billy yelling, “Who’s standing right here?�

I shake my head. “I really said that, didn’t I?�

“Yes. Twice. Are you saying you don’t love me now? Were you just playing with me?�

Dom shouts, “Who was playing with you?�

Billy adds, “I thought you always just played with yourself.�

“Shut up,� Elijah cries back.

“Well, I haven’t heard any comments from the fourth musketeer so far. Are you lying to me, Elijah?�

“He’s just in a bad mood because he got a slightly less dramatic talking to last night. But you never said if you loved me or if you were just toying with my emotions.� Elijah sniffs as if he may start crying if I don’t give him the right answer.

“Of course I love you. You took me to get cigarettes.�

“Aw… she does remember some parts of last night.�

I close my eyes and rest my head on the back of the couch. “Unfortunately, I remember every little bit about last night.�

“Well, if you wanna know if someone is mad at you, why not just ask?�

“I did ask. And you’re not answering me.�

“Hold on,� Elijah sighs. There’s a rustling of the phone and I can hear Elijah saying, “Here man, it’s for you.� There’s a thud as if the phone has been dropped and then more crackling as it’s picked back up.

“Hey sweetie.� A new voice says over the phone.

“How did you know it was me?� I ask, surprised.

“Well, not many girls told Elijah they loved him last night… or ever for that matter.�

“Oh, was that me?� I stand to search for my cigarettes and lighter. I slip out into the backyard so that Monica can’t listen in any longer.

“Yea, I do believe that was you. Or are you claiming that you don’t remember stuff about last night?� Orlando queries.

As I light my cigarette, I can see through the window that Monica has returned upstairs. “No, I remember everything about last night… do you?� I ask, half-hoping he’ll say he blacked out, and only vaguely remembers what I look like.

“I remember everything, too. I remember the way you felt,� he whispers, then lets his voice fall away.

My breath catches in my throat, and all my thoughts fly out of my head. I don’t know what to do now.

“So, how do you feel now?�

“I’m okay,� is all I can manage. “I never get hung-over, so that’s really great. I was so drunk last night.� I know he’s not really asking me how I feel physically, but that is the question I choose to answer. I don’t think I could answer his real question.

“Oh, yeah. Me, too,� he says quickly, but I can detect some disappointment. He pauses, and then starts to stumble over words.

By the time he finally expresses a thought, I echo him by suggesting, “Why don’t we get together again – this time without the alcohol– and see what happens?�

“Yeah,� he says. “My thoughts, exactly.�

“Yeah? Is that really what you’re thinking right now?� I hope his response regresses back to his earlier admission.

“Of course, it is. What else would I be thinking right now, silly girl?� he teases.

“I was just hoping that… hoping you had some ideas as to where to go, or what to do,� I stutter.

“Whatever you like.�

“Sex on the Beach?�

He laughs. “We said no more drinking… but… �

We laugh for a moment. That temporarily makes me forget my nervousness. “So, what are your plans for tonight?� I ask shyly.

“Even if I had any, I would find a way to change them if you were available.�

I lean against the side of the house as I exhale. “I may still be grounded. Might have to get permission before I ever leave the house again.�

“Will you be allowed to go anywhere with me or is it only large groups of men that you can’t hang out with?�

“I think that’s only when I’m piss ass drunk and trying to get in the pants of one of them.�

Orlando drawls, “Would that have been me?�

I laugh him off. “Nope Billy. Did you miss the part where I was making out in the parking lot with him?�

“Wow! I was drunker than I thought. So what about it sweetie, could we give this a second try tonight or do I need to ask for permission from your parents?�

“Oh, I think that mom might be cool with it. I don’t think they were as concerned with