Commitment

Okay, kids.  Here is the definitive project list for now....

After The Rain - October 1 - A collaboration with Audra Thomas that is the sequel to Perfect Storm.

Focused on You - October 1 - Not something I anticipated doing, but... well, it happened anyway.  TBJ gets his own story in this one.  I realize this isn't everyone's cup of tea, and those of you who are intrigued by this may kill me if I don't do it well.  LOL!

As of now, I expect the LP sequel to kick off around Christmas-time.  Focused on You should be wrapped up by then, I think.

That's what I've got.  Hope you enjoy what I (we) have in store for you!!  As always, you know where to find me...

♥ blush

Thank you & Upcoming Projects

There are so many of you that played a part in this, however small and however unknowingly.  There are also those of you who played a much larger part.  You know who you are and how much I love and depend on you.  Thanks to all of you, from the very bottom of my heart.  Each and every one of your supportive words got me through another chapter and gave me the gumption to finish this thing out.  It is my fondest wish to know that you all enjoyed the ride as much as I enjoyed having you riding along with me.

You JBJ (and Tony) girls are very vocal.  I like it. A lot. :)

Soooo.... What am I up to next, you might ask?  Well, I'll be unveiling a new project in a few short weeks.  At this juncture I'm unsure as to what exactly that project is going to be, though.

Obviously, this one cries out for a sequel.  Richie will be getting his shot in the next installment of the "Learning" series, whenever that happens.

I've also been talking with another author about a collaborative effort.  Audra Thomas and I believe that maybe my short story, Perfect Storm, wants to get a little bigger.  We'll be revisiting Sheridan in that one.

Then there's another Richie story rattling around in my head, this one a fresh start, independent of any previous stories.

Right now, I'm not making any promises about content, but I expect to have at least one (if not two) new project(s) live by October 1st.

In the meantime, I'll miss you guys.  Take care of yourselves and meet me back here in October???

Much love,
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Epilogue - Don't Dream It's Over

“Whoa, whoa.  Wait a minute.”  Jon’s fingers curled around the upper arm of his new bride, preventing her from entering their penthouse apartment.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Um.  Going inside?”  Befuddlement clouded her slightly smudged eyes.  The long evening of revelry had dimmed her sparkles a little, but she was still beautiful.

“C’mere.”  He waggled his fingers, gesturing for her to come close and, when she complied, he bent to scoop her up.

“Jon!” she squeaked.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m carrying my imp over the threshold.”  The heels of tennis shoes thumped dully against the tile when he set her down in the foyer.  “You got a problem with that?”

Flirtatious dimples came out to play and she bounced onto her toes, her arms climbing around his neck like clinging vines. “No,” she murmured against his mouth.  Impatient little hands shoved at his coat.  “I do have a problem with all those clothes you’re wearing though.”

“Mmm.”  He had the same problem.  He’d wanted her since the moment she appeared in that figure-hugging wedding dress.  The way it hugged her boobs and pushed them up would’ve had every man in the room salivating if they hadn’t been family or ‘family’.  

Too bad he couldn’t appreciate the way they looked now.  She’d told him in no uncertain terms that she couldn’t wear that dress back in the limo, because she would suffocate.   Unwilling to be left alone wearing dress clothing he didn’t like, Jon had changed back into his jeans when she reverted to her daily Petey-wear. 

Tearing his mouth away from hers, he swiped a gentle thumb under her lip to remove the dampness of their kiss.  “You go on upstairs and wait for me.  I’ll be up in a minute, okay?”

“Why aren’t you coming up with me?”  Glittery eyelashes batted up at him and drew an indulgent smile.

“I was thinkin’ you might want a chance to change into something sexy.”

“Oh.”  Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.  She was so damn cute sometimes.  “Okay.”

“I’ll bring you a glass of wine.  Mmk?”

“Mmk.”  Popping up on her toes again, she seared his lips with a clinging kiss that all but incinerated his intentions.  “Don’t be too long, though.”  With that and his heavy pat against her bottom, she sashayed into the heart of the apartment and up the stairs. 

Jon’s feet remained stuck to the floor until she’d vanished completely out of sight.  With a slow shake of his head and an even slower smile, he was quietly thankful for good fortune.

Prodding his boots into motion, he trekked across the foyer and living room toward the bar, pausing briefly to take in the big television against the wall. 

Three months ago, he’d wanted nothing more than to watch a damn football game.  That desire had led to a much more overwhelming desire – to know the woman that made watching that game possible.  Petey and her one word answers, intermingled with the crazy recitations, hiding herself behind a wall of attitude.  She'd been all but irresistible to a problem solver like him.

Diving under the bar, he withdrew a coveted bottle of Pinot Grigio that had been waiting for a special occasion to come out and play.  It didn’t get any more special than his wedding day, he supposed, applying the corkscrew. 

♥ ☠ ♥

“I brought your wine, Mrs. Bongiovi.”  Before he could get fully inside the bedroom, Jon was distracted by the discarded pink tank top that had managed to hook itself over the toe of his boot.  Dislodging it with a light shake, he lifted his head to find a wet dream come to life.  Petey was in the center of the bed, leaned on her left hip, bare legs curled behind her.

“Fuuuuck meeee,” he groaned at seeing the little black imp tail draped over her thigh.

She gave a seductive shake to her loose hair and grinned - impishly - bringing to his attention the pointed black ears that were tucked into the silken strands.  “That was the plan, Mr. Bongiovi.”

Shrugging her shoulders forward showcased the boobs he’d been obsessed with all day.  They spilled over the tiny excuse for a bra she was wearing.  Its leather shoulder straps were almost as big as the strip of supple black leather cradling the weight of each breast.  There wasn’t even enough of the material to hide the pale pink of her aureoles and nipples.

Damn, my wife is hot.

The two fragile stemware glasses clunked dully when he put them on the nightstand with a none-too-gentle hand.  “Tell me the fucking photographer didn’t see you in that bra.”

Devilish dimples dug deeper, and she lithely rolled to her knees walking on them to the side of the mattress.  “No,” she purred, rubbing up against him like a demonic cat before nipping at the underside of his jaw.  “I wasn’t wearing a bra for the photographer.”

“Goddammit Petey…”

Her breath was hot and wet against his ear.  “Nobody’s seen me but you, and nobody will.”  She lapped at his earlobe with a hot, wet tongue while the fingers of her left hand skated down the placket of his zipper…  and lower.

Jon grunted softly when she found the spot where the seams of his jeans converged. 

“Take your clothes off,” the fiendish female rasped against his throat at the same time the stone in her engagement ring rasped over the denim encasing his stones.  He recoiled with instinctive self-preservation.  “Husband.”

“Hey.”  A firm hand angled her face so that he could dispense the necessary dosage of stink-eye.  “Don’t get it in your head that this ring cut off the blood flow to my balls.  Bedroom is my domain, unless I decide otherwise.”  He bruised her lips with a brief, but harsh kiss.  “Got it?”

“But dear…”  The coquettishly innocent blink of her make-up free eyes wasn’t fooling anybody.  Her hand folded over his and she pointedly twirled the heavy black band resting on his ring finger.  Ice blue eyes were nothing more than slits of sparkling mischievousness.  “If you don’t take those damn clothes off, you’re not going to get it.  Got it?”

“You wanna fight about this?” He kept his voice deliberately soft and arched a challenging eyebrow. 

His high-handedness was shot down by the sexy chuckle that went straight to his groin.  “Isn’t that our favorite foreplay?”

“Damn straight.” 

She bounced enticingly against the mattress at his gentle shove, and Jon appreciated the jiggle permitted by her joke of a bra.  He wasted no time stripping away his shirt as her bare, pink toes walked up his thighs and curled into his front pockets.  The metal of his belt buckle clanked about the time she angled her right foot so that the heel was resting in his crotch.  She wasted no time in dragging it over his bulging zipper.

There was a deep scratching sound that echoed in the quiet roomwhen he pulled the wide leather belt through the denim loops and dropped it to the floor. 

“Sugar, I don’t have a foot fetish but, all the same, you’re taunting the beast.”  With no further warning, he clamped unrelenting fingers around her ankle, pulling her dainty foot close enough to place a punishing nip at its arch.  “Now behave.”

Releasing her, he went back to his pants, unbuttoning them and kicking off his boots at the same time.  Petey’s eyes had gone soft, and she was watching him through half-closed eyelids. 

“But Jonny,” she breathed demurely.  “I just want you.  What’s wrong with that?”

Pants hit the floor with a thud, courtesy of Jon’s wallet and keys.  She’d gone from being a little hellion to the sweetest angel in the blink of a kinky eye.  There wasn’t a doubt I his mind that Petey Diehl – Bongiovi – was going to keep him guessing every day of their lives. 

He fully expected to love every minute of it.

And love her.

Heart thudding heavily in his chest, Jon crawled in between her parted legs and planted one palm next to her head, his face hovering in the air above hers.   Eyes glazed with love sought out each of her exquisite features while his other hand tunneled into the raven tresses that were fanned out over the comforter.  The imp ears were tossed aside so that he could cradle her skull without impediment.  “Not a thing, my beautiful imp.  Not a damn thing.”

Their lips connected with a mutual groan that voiced both satisfaction and desire.  Tongues sensually intertwined in an erotic duel as he willingly drowned in the cotton candy that had bewitched him from that very first day.  Her skin was so soft against his.  The ultimate femininity against his masculine form, she molded herself up into his body.

“Jonny?” she breathed, resting her forehead against his.  

Unable to still himself, he pressed his chest into hers and lifted her thigh to his waist.  “What is it, Sugar?”

“Do you know that I love you?”

He let his hips fall against her pelvis.  “Yes.”

Jon snuck a hand between them, intent on shoving the little imp thong aside.  He needed her wet heat sucking him in.  Wanted to be a part of her. 

She inhaled sharply when he glided over the lips that only his lips had touched.  She was his.  In so many ways. 

“Can we have a baby right away?  As soon as the birth control injections wear off?”

His fingers froze.  Not sure that he’d heard her correctly, he drew back enough so that he could search the depths of her eyes.  Eyes that were somber and certain. 

“I want to carry your baby inside me,” she whispered.  “I promise I’ll do my best to be a good mother.”

Jon blinked away the moisture that wanted to prick at his eyes.  Her quietly assertive proclamation sent the blood rushing through his veins.  The noise of it was almost too loud to hear himself think.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to think. 

“You’ll be an amazing mother,” was his soft answer.  He traced a soft finger over the contours of her cheek.  “To our baby.”

“Is that a yes?” 

His fingers resumed their mission, sliding through the hot wet folds of her sex.  She was always so ready for him.  Was there any bigger turn on?

Oh, yeah.  There was.  The woman he loved sweetly begging him to get her pregnant.

His stomach muscles clenched at the thought of a brilliantly blue-eyed baby smiling up at him with her dimples.  

Dragging the tip of his erection through her wetness, he slicked himself enough to push easily inside her waiting womb.

“That’s a yes, Sugar.”

   ~The End~

  

160 - Through My Eyes

Smiling wistfully, Gavin surveyed the guests chatting amongst themselves.  It was a lovely affair, and everyone was playing nice.  Sad, really.  It gave him no excuse to break bad on anyone’s ass for misbehaving. 

A husky laugh caught his attention, pulling his smile wider.  Peteykins and Superass had been posing for photos for... EV... er and their looks were so hot that he figured they were about half a step away from screwing in front of the photographer.  He couldn’t recall the guy’s name.  Another Jewish David, he thought, but couldn’t be sure.  

His trouble-radar went up when spotting the two mamas chatting over some bubbly.  He wasn’t entirely sure about Mom Jovi being on board with this yet.  Snagging his own glass from a passing waiter, he casually strolled by the matriarch mosh pit.

“They’re happy, aren’t they?” Teresa Heinz-Kerry sipped pink champagne and gazed upon her daughter and son-in-law.

Lowering the flute of her own bubbly drink, Carol Bongiovi thoughtfully concurred. “It’s been… years since I’ve seen Jonny so content.” She swirled the remains of her champagne, creating delicate waves of effervescence against the crystal flute. “In all honesty, I wasn’t very nice to Petey when I met her.”

Teresa nodded. “She told me. The engagement announcement came very suddenly, though. In all fairness, I may have been the same way if I hadn’t already known Jon.”

“Thank you.”

“Your opinion has changed now, hasn’t it?” Shrewd brown eyes searched blue ones that were every bit as shrewd, prepared to make Carol ‘see reason’ if necessary.

“Yes, yes, of course. You can’t tell a heart what to feel. As long as my sons are happy, I’m happy for them.” With a genteel shrug, she admitted. “It’s a lesson better learned late than never at all.”

Gavin lifted a proud hand to his chest.  Miss - Missus - Petey was going to be fine with Mom J. 

Turning, he unintentionally bumped into another guest while dodging the two youngest Jovi urchins.  Jasper and Ricardo?  Something like that.

"Hello again, Candace, Queen of the Amazon.  How the hell tall are you anyway?" Gavin hadn't encountered too many women that could meet his eyes without a substantial amount of neck craning.

"Oh." Professionally arched eyebrows slammed down over her eyes. "It's you."

"Yes, darling." Pointing a single finger toward himself, he slowed his words for full effect.  "Gavin. Maid of honor. I would think a man maid would have made more of an impression."

"I try not to remember people who blatantly insult me."

"Oh, ya caught that huh?" He offered a conciliatory pat to her arm.  "I prefer to think of it as an overactive honesty gland.  No offense intended, Stilts. Ya got a date with Richie didn't ya?  Whatever I say shouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.  It's just jealousy talking."

His eyes snaked across the room to its furthest corner, where Richie was talking with his assistant.

"Speaking of jealousy, how ya holdin' up over there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sambora. Assistant Sambora. You don't see the writing on the wall?"

"I don't see anything aside from the fact that I was invited to spend the evening with a nice guy, who happens to be rich, famous and smokin' hot."

"Did someone call me?" David sidled up next to Candace, with an annoyed frown for Gavin. "Are you bothering this lovely lady?"

“Probably.”

Candace’s face lit up with a mega-wattage grin, and she offered her hand.  “Hello, Mr. Bryan.  I believe we met at the holiday party.  I’m Candace.”

“Candace...”  Lifting her hand, he brushed her knuckles with a kiss.  “Of course I remember you.”

Gavin rolled his eyes to the ceiling and edged away.  “Oops...  touchy gag reflex.  Later, children.”

Slambora better watch his date, or she’s going home with the minister, he thought with a shudder.  That was a little too sacrilegious even for his loosely knit ‘beliefs’.

Perhaps he should casually wander by and investigate what was going on with Mr. Bluesman and …

He’d no more had the thought than another couple caught his eye.

Bro Jo and Snarkalicious had their heads bent together a couple of tables over, and Gavin absently wondered how Ghost of Jovi Past was handling the wedded bliss.  Strolling over in that direction, he gave himself kudos for not always being a cold-hearted bitch.

“What made you change your mind?”  Little Brother Number One was asking, threading his fingers through those of his woman.  The rest of the world might as well not be there, the way he was looking into her face. 

The Snarky One was just as engrossed in her man.  “It’s the middle of the tour.  It’s a very short four months away.  Maybe you were right about waiting until August.  Or maybe even next Christmas.  It’ll give the kids more of a chance to get used to it.”

“Babes, I’m sleeping in your bed.  They’re used to it.  Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

She looked over his shoulder to where Jon and Petey were exchanging dirty smiles for the camera.  “No.  I just think we would be better off to wait for a while.  That’s all.”

Yikes!

Could TBJ hear Gavin’s bullshit meter going full-tilt from where he was sitting.  Judging by the dark haired man’s grunt of frustration, Gavin would say yes.  But what was the guy gonna do?  Pick a fight at his brother’s wedding reception?

Wonder what’s got the unflappable Ms. Dorothea backpedaling down the aisle?

Not really his thing to worry about, but he’d kind of developed a fondness for his Snark Sister.  With a sad shake of his head, he resumed his course for the far corner, where the King of Swing and his assistant were involved in an in-depth discussion.

What excuse was he going to manufacture for sticking his nose in the isolated part of the room and invading their privacy?  Oh, yes.  There was a lovely painting on the wall he’d like to get a closer look at.

“Things will be just like they’ve always been,” Tall, Dark and Handsome said and broke away from Madame Assistant with a detached peck on the cheek.  “I’ve gotta go play, Den.  Have a safe trip back.”

He brushed by with a muttered apology.  Looking after him as he wove his way through the assortment of small tables to the front of the room, Gavin silently swore.

Damn.  Those other two made me miss out.  I wonder if The Keeper of the Schedule would cough up any details?

Before Richie had a chance to approach the head table, where Jon and Petey had finally settled themselves, Gavin made his move.  Hand outstretched and his most charming smile in place, he chirped, “Hello darling, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.  I’m the maid of honor, Gavin.”

Dark, hazel eyes were speaking more volumes than the woman herself ever would, but she dredged up a half-smile and allowed him to clasp her hand.  “Denise Salazar.  I’m Richie’s personal assistant.”

“Yes, yes, of course you are.  I see that you were having a very serious conversation with your employer.  I hope nothing is wrong?”  He batted his eyes and smiled encouragingly.  A million secrets had been pried from New York’s society hags with this look.

“No, not at all.”  Her eyes drifted to the aforementioned employer’s back where he had bent to speak to the bride and groom.  “Just making sure I have his travel arrangements set.”

“Oh.”  Damn woman would never make it in New York society circles.  “That’s good.  I hope you enjoyed the ceremony?  They should be serving dinner soon.  I hear the shrimp almandine is to die for.”

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay for dinner.”  Again, her troubled eyes flicked to a laughing Richie.  “I have a flight to catch.”

“Hey!  Could I get everybody’s attention for a minute?”

The guests’ chatter dropped to a dull murmur, only pierced by the youngest Jovi’s plaintive, “I want to sit with Dad!”

Bless Tinkerella’s heart…

Once the boy had climbed into dear old Dad’s lap, Richie went on with this public service announcement.  “The food should be out here in a minute.  While we’re waiting for it, I have a quick song I’d like to do for the happy couple.”

“Oh, come on,”  Gavin urged, curling an arm around Denny’s shoulder and guiding her toward Tony and Dorothea’s table.  “At least stay long enough to hear whatever musical gem your boss has for us.  You can sit with me.  I’m going to cop a squat with Snarky Spice and Tony B. Can we join you love birds?”

Despite their still firmly entwined hands, they were both in separate worlds and staring unseeingly at the front of the room.  Both seemed to be relieved to have company.”

I see they didn’t get any further.

“Of course.”  Dorothea’s went from empty to full of warmth for Gavin’s companion.  “Denny, you’re welcome to sit with us.  The Fairy Gaymother has to promise to behave, though.”

“But, baby, you know I’m better when I’m bad.”  Deciding to play the gentleman since he wanted to be nosy about Denny’s life, he pulled out a chair for her.  “Here you go, lovely lady.”

Bro Jo was busy perfecting his silent snarl, but his woman was feeling her oats. “Denny, what have you done to Gavin?  He’s being nice to you?  Did you threaten to emasculate him?”

“Zip it, Supasnark.  The lady’s paycheck is gonna sing.”

The Bon Jovi guitarist took a moment to comfortably situate his long, sexy frame on the padded stool before settling a guitar in his lap. It had a honeyed, natural wood finish instead of the shiny black of Jon Boy’s guitar from the ceremony.  Dark eyes slid their direction, and his mouth puckered into a hasty frown when he saw Denny.  It wasn’t until his train of sight flicked around the room and found his ditzy date sitting with the little Jew boy that the frown melted into a more easy smile. It was spooky, but at the same time that happened, his eyes went flat and vacant.

Curly-Q, you’re in some trouble for hijacking the man’s date.

The two conflicting expressions dueled for a flash before he gave it up and brought his attention to the couple at the head table. Tucking his tie down into his jacket, he plinked out a couple of random notes and spoke as though there wasn’t a thing in the world wrong.

“There were some tense moments at the beginning of this relationship, and not just between Jon and Petey. Jon, man, you’ve been my best friend for what feels like most of my life.  I’ve never wanted anything for you but happiness. Petey, my pretty dark angel, if anybody deserves happiness, it’s you, Darlin’. It took me awhile, but now I genuinely believe you’re going to find that in each other.”

He picked out a few chords on his instrument, speaking over the sound. “Believe it or not, I’m not going to do some long, drawn-out, bluesy song. This tune is really short and really simple, but the message is exactly what I want to say to the two of you. I know J.B. likes Sam Cooke, and I hope you do, too, Petey. This is called ‘I Wish You Love’.”

“I wish you bluebirds in the spring

to give your heart a song to sing.

And then a kiss oh but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July a lemonade to cool you in some leafy glade.

I wish you health oh and more than wealth. I wish you love.”

He took a breath between phrases and winked one playful eye at Petey.  That same eye found Denny in the next breath, then closed as he continued his song.

“My breaking heart and I agree that you and I will never be.

So with my best my very best I am ‘ setn’ you free

Oh honey.

I wish you shelter from the storm.

A cozy fire to keep you worm.

Oh but most of all I wish you love.

But most of all when snowflakes fall I wish you love.

But most of all when snowflakes fall I wish you love.”

The song took no more than two or three minutes, but the genuine honesty and affection of his delivery would make a nice memory for Petey-poo.  She released Jon’s hand to latch onto Richie’s as he passed by, smiling softly up into his face. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Richie bent to kiss her cheek and received a light thump of gratitude from his friend

Gavin was touched at how thoughtful these tough-ass Jersey boys could be.   Weren’t they supposed to be all ‘sleep-with-da-fishes’ kinda guys?  But even His Royal Hotness had manned up and done the hearts and flowers thing today. 

He surveyed the room with an aloof curiosity. Man and Wife were obviously playing footsie under the table.  Baby Bro Jovi was pouting, clearly pissed at his own wife.  The kids were chattering amongst themselves, except for that littlest one that was squirming loose to run like a gazelle through the house.  TBJ was trying to figure out what was going on in Snarketta’s head, but she was doing her best to avoid looking at him. The senior parental units were all taking it in stride, smiling as though it had been their idea all along.  Petey’s bros and their women were sipping champagne in a world of their own - except for the Sasquatch who walked her down the aisle.  He was watching over little sis, but smiling, so he must have finally got rid of that brick he’d been trying to shit all day. The keyboardist’s fingers were tickling something besides ivory in Candace’s lap under that tablecloth.  The drummer - Tito? - was kicked back, chomping back on an unlit cigar studying everything through narrowed eyes as he pet on the stunning Latina at his side.  And last, but not least… Daddy Long Legs Sambora was quietly putting away his guitar, his trusty assistant having just escaped the room.

Yes.  Very interesting crew indeed. 

Surely they had to have a stylist on this tour.  Gavin grimaced at Petey’s physical fawning over her new hubby.  If not a stylist, then he could at least turn the fire hose on those two when necessary.

His decision was made, and he must talk to Johnny Dangerously about a job right away.  These people clearly needed him.

 Epilogue and final notes will post Friday, September 7

159 - Marry Me

I hope beyond hope that everyone finds something they can like in this chapter.  Without further ado...

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Henry affectionately patted the dainty hand tucked into the crook of his elbow.  He and Petey were paused just outside the doorway through which their mother had just vanished to take her seat.  Anxiously waiting the time for their entrance, Gavin was bouncing on his toes, torso already leaning in to the living room-turned-chapel. 

Swishing the satin fishtail of her skirt, she squeezed Henry’s arm and, with Herculean effort, forced herself to smile up at him.  There was no way in hell she was going to lose it now, not two seconds before she got married. 

“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all”

The quick shot of mental Valium, courtesy of Emily Dickinson, was enough to allow her to form words of her own.  “I’m ready.”

“You were reciting, weren’t you?”  He peered at her with the all-knowing eyes of a wise older brother.  Henry had been witness to her anxiety attacks too many times for her to try and hide it.

Gavin stilled his bouncing long enough to offer a muttered, “Well I see the genius doesn’t fall far from the brain stem.  When hasn’t she been reciting today, Einstein?”

“Be quiet.”  She commanded with a scowl before reassuringly patting her brother’s hand. “Yes, but it’s okay.”

“There’s still time to walk away, you know.  If you’re not sure about this, there’s nothing that says you have to go through with it.  We can be at the airport before anyone realizes you’re gone.” 

He made a half-hearted attempted to pull her toward the front door, but Petey dug in her heels and refused to budge.  “I don’t want to walk away.  I’m scared, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love him and want him to love me.”

He harrumphed and straightened his dark tie, grumbling, “Yeah, well.  He loves you.”

She had only half a second to process Henry’s begrudging acknowledgement before the gentle strains of piano music floated through the air, signaling that it was time to begin. 

Jon, David and Richie had chosen all the music for the ceremony, with Petey’s blessing.  She and her mother had commandeered so many of the wedding plans that she felt compelled to leave this part to Jon.  Although, with David responsible for the musical execution, she was now questioning the wisdom of that decision.  It was possible that he could do anything.

That thought foremost in her mind she stood her ground, unwilling to step out until she had positively identified the song that would usher her down the aisle.    It took about twenty seconds, but she did eventually recognize it.  It was ‘No One’, by Alicia Keys, and the lyrics rushed at her consciousness like a gust of overpowering wind.

“People keep talking

They can say what they like

But all I know is

Everything's gonna be alright”

Did Jon pick this song?  Is he telling me something with those unsung lyrics?  Or had he taken the easy way out and simply asked David to choose something ‘appropriate’? 

Her heart skipped a beat.  Then another.

Stop being a such a GIRL! This is not a reason to panic.  He’s out there waiting for you. 

Isn’t he?

Damn it all.  She was going into an anxiety attack.  Petey commanded forth the rest of Ms. Dickinson’s words, only to find her mind….  blank.  For the first time ever, the words wouldn’t come.  The music in her ears was overriding her natural ability to hide behind a soothing litany of memorized passages.

“If you’re doing this, it’s time to do it.”

Terrified fingers executed a stranglehold on her bouquet and Petey’s lungs seized with trepidation.  It was only with Henry’s gentle nudge that she was able to will her cute black boot to take that first step into the room.

Nervous eyes immediately swept past the sea of faces staring expectantly at her, and sought out the man at the altar.

He was there.  Jon was there.  Waiting for her, and so very handsome, standing tall and proud in his dark suit, hands folded together.  The carelessly tousled mop of his hair was made bright by the winter sun streaming through the over-sized windows. 

The words that had been hiding from Petey came bursting through the mental dam like a tidal wave.

Jesus!  Jon’s breath caught in his throat.  He and Richie had their eyes diligently trained on the back of the room when she made her entrance, clinging to Henry’s arm.  Was it his imagination or was she a little paler than usual? 

It was a fleeting thought as his eyes were stolen by the rest of her…

Peering around Gavin, he could see that the pale pink of the dress matched the roses in her bouquet.  The corset hugged her torso in all the right places, her breasts covered with the same black lace as their cake.  Below that there was a double-bow of pink and black, and below that was nothing but figure-hugging pink satin.  Black boots peeked out from beneath the skirt, and he could see a flash of silver on her right ankle.

Richie’s bracelet.

Forcing the corner of his mouth to cock upward in amusement was her hat.  Only the beautifully eccentric woman he was about to marry would wear a top hat on her wedding day.  He couldn’t see the back, but there was a feathery pink halo peeking out from behind her head.

She came closer, her footsteps in time with the music that was thrumming through his veins.  He wasn’t surprised to see a black choker around her neck, but it was infinitely fussier than any he’d seen her wear before.  Black, shiny beads mimicked the lacy pattern of the corset, and – his eyes slid up to her face as drew within feet of him – her makeup.  The lace around those brilliant blue eyes was ‘tatted’ from black and pink sparkles.

Gavin assumed his position on the opposite side of the aisle while Henry curled his big paw around Petey’s tiny hand and squeezed before releasing her into Jon’s custody.    While David quietly wound down the song Jon had chosen for Petey’s walk, Jon skimmed her features, pale under the elaborate cosmetics.   Cotton candy lip gloss caught the light as her mouth moved silently.

She’s reciting. 

The final notes faded away leaving the room quiet and David scooted back from the piano, ready to join them at the altar. 

With a gentle smile, Jon bent until his lips brushed the shell of her ear.  He folded her gloved fingers into his palm and held them there, allowing the warmth from his hand to penetrate the cool satin.  Very, very softly he whispered, “I.  Am.  Yours.  Do you understand me?”

Petey sucked in an audible breath as though she were breaking the surface of the water after a long dive.  Goose bumps danced a Latin rumba under her gloves.  The velvet sheathed words of steel did it to her every time.

“Nod your head,” he prompted with no more than a ghost of sound resonating against her eardrum. “You can tell me ‘yes, sir’ later.  Loudly.”

This was Jon.   He would boss, she would argue, they would fight, make up and love one another.  Probably every day, several times a day.  They went at it all with everything they had, and would still come out at the end of the day standing side-by-side.  She couldn’t think of anything more perfect, or anyone more perfect for her. 

He was hers and she was his.

Muscles that had been tied in complex Boy Scout’s knots melted away poured out of her neck and shoulders as though they were made of no more than water.  Petey felt the sun rise on her face as she imperceptibly inclined her head, cheeks deeply creasing in a euphoric grin. 

 “Good girl.”  His lips dusted her cheek for the faintest of kisses.  “You look gorgeous.”

“You mind if we interrupt your intimate moment with a wedding?”  David intoned lazily, his hands pushed into the pant pockets of his own dark suit.  “Or should we all go home and come back later?”

That drew a few chuckles from the crowd, but, unaffected, Jon merely straightened and took half a step back, his eyes never leaving Petey’s and not releasing his grasp on her fingers.  There was an undefined emotion swimming in the depths of the bottomless blue irises when he spoke a gruff, “Just get on with it.”

“Alrighty then.”  David rubbed his hands together with what could be perceived as maniacal glee before folding them demurely together in front of him.  “Friends and family, we’ve joined together today to celebrate the unexpected union of Jon and Petey.  I say unexpected because on the surface, there’s no one any more different than these two.  A Goth electronics genius and a musician turned conservative businessman aren’t exactly two halves of the same walnut.”

Petey smothered a grin when Jon’s eyes narrowed into menacing slits.  She could hear the non-verbal warning being issued as though it were blaring through a bullhorn.  David was being told to watch himself. 

“Even though I understand they got off to a rocky start, Jon finally pulled his head out of his a.. – “   David bit off the word with a cough and then cleared his throat.  “Excuse me.  Adjusted his attitude and found that he wanted to look past the combat boots and piercings.  Eventually, Petey let him.”

God, it all seemed so long ago.  All of the relentless questions and the determined charm that had worn down her resistance were a pleasant, but distant memory.  His determined guidance of her sexual awakening was a little more fresh in her mind, but still in another time zone from where they stood today.

“Before we get to the main event, though, there are a couple of other items on the agenda.”  His wide grin was directed toward the room at large.  “What musician is going to get married without a song, right?  We all know Jon can’t pass up a chance to perform.”

Snapping her head around, Petey asked in a quietly incredulous voice, “You’re going to sing?”

“Yeah.  Is that okay?”

“Of course it is, but… “ He’d told her flat out if she was looking for someone to serenade her with love songs, he wasn’t that guy.

“I can try and be a little romantic just this once.  For your wedding day.” 

The look of adoration that lit her eyes justified his feeling of impending humiliation.  You’d think he was about to streak, not sing a simple song, but this wasn’t the kind of personal gesture he was comfortable with in private, much less in front of a room full of people who knew him.  Who knew full-well that he didn’t do this kind of thing.

Releasing her hand with one last gentle squeeze, Jon inhaled through his nose and unobtrusively blew the breath out through his mouth.  He grabbed the neck of the Takamine he’d stowed in the front closet and climbed onto the padded barstool that had been brought up from the Shoe Inn. 

A light strum assured him the strings were still in tune, and his eyes drifted to a vacant spot on the floor even as he addressed the entire room.

“This song isn’t entirely appropriate, in more ways than one, but I heard it a couple weeks back and couldn’t get it out of my head.”  Now he lifted his gaze to find Petey watching him attentively.  Jon let  the left corner of his mouth slip into faint smile.  “I knew then that I was going to end up singing it for you.  I’m not Axl Rose, and I don’t whistle, so bear with me.  It’s called ‘Patience’.”

His eyes slid back to that distant spot on the floor as he began the leisurely and somewhat lengthy introduction.  Occasionally he would concentrate on his fingers and assure himself of their placement on the guitar’s neck, but, for the most part, he stared unseeingly at the rich parquet.

It wasn’t until he began to softly croon the lyrics that his eyes sought human visual contact.  The fingers that had needed such close supervision a moment ago now moved with careless expertise and he sang to, and for, Petey.

“Shed a tear ‘cause I’m missing you

I’m still alright to smile

Girl, I think about you every day now

Was a time when I wasn’t sure

But you set my mind at ease

There is no doubt you’re in my heart now

Said woman take it slow

It’ll work itself out fine

All we need is just a little patience

Said sugar take it slow

And we’ll come together fine

All we need is just a little patience”

Jon was right.  It wasn’t entirely appropriate, because she wasn’t technically Patience and they hadn’t taken anything slow, but it didn’t mean the song and the man singing it touched her heart any less.   She could understand why it had stuck with him.  The lyrics even used his pet name for her – Sugar.   

“I sit here on the stairs

'Cause I'd rather be alone

If I can't have you right now

I'll wait, dear

Sometimes I get so tense

But I can't speed up the time

But you know, love

There's one more thing to consider

Said, woman, take it slow

And things will be just fine

You and I'll just use a little patience

Said sugar take the time

‘Cause the lights they’re shining bright

‘Cause you and I’ve got what it takes to make it

We won’t fake it, ooh never break it

‘Cause I can’t take it”

He went back to studying his fingers through what she remembered as the guitar solo, absently crooning, “Patience,” throughout until he quietly faded the notes away without finishing the last verse. 

She wasn’t a Guns ‘n Roses fan, but she was a Jon fan and his arrangement of the song was perfectly suited for this day, this occasion.  When he reseated the Tak in its stand and returned to her side, Petey pushed up on her tip toes.  Tickling his cheek with a kiss, she whispered in his ear, “Thank you.  It was perfect.”

“I’m glad you liked it, Sugar.”  He bent at the waist, intent upon touching his lips to hers, but David had a different idea.

Shoving a long arm in between the bride and groom, he ran interference like a professional linebacker and used his forearm to restrain Jon just enough to keep them apart.  “Ah, ah.  We’re not there yet, but that does bring us to the heart of today’s program,” he kept the ceremony flowing smoothly.  “If you’ll both face one another and hold hands, Jon can start with his vows.”

The bouquet was passed to Gavin, who immediately stepped forward to accept it and the gloves that Petey peeled down her arms.  Her bare hands came to rest in Jon’s, where they drank in the warmth of his touch.

He inspected the short, glossy pink nails before closing his fingers around them.  Jon had a general idea of what he wanted to say, but hadn’t bothered to make notes.  Now he was wondering if maybe he should have.  There was only one shot to do this right. 

“It’s been a wild couple of months since I first opened the door to my brother’s idea of revenge.”  He tipped his head toward Tony, who sat in the second row of seats with Romeo perched on one thigh and Dottie's hand resting on the other.

"He thought it would be funny to send his demanding older brother, who can barely operate a remote control, an electronics geek named Petey to ‘fix’ his TV.  What he neglected to mention was that Petey was a woman."

"It was funny," was heard clearly throughout the room and he shot Tony a half-hearted stink eye.

“I made her show I.D. and everything,” he reminisced with a rueful grin.  “Then, after she walked into my apartment, I was instantly fascinated with the aloof little imp and her crazy colored contact lenses.  Lemme tell ya, she wasn’t the least bit fascinated with me, though.”

“That’s what you thought,” she murmured.

“Along the way, she finally started to let me in and started answering about one percent of my million questions.  Then it was two percent, five percent, ten percent, until I didn’t have to ask anymore.  I blinked my eyes and she was openly sharing herself with me.”

Jon’s chest tightened.  It was true.  She didn’t hide herself from him anymore.  His Petey was right there with her eyes stripped naked of cloaking contact lenses, showing him any and everything he was willing to see. 

“We haven’t had the most conventional road to the altar, but I can’t imagine it being any more ‘us’.  Petey Diehl, Patience Heinz…”  He offered up a wide, incorrigible grin.  “P.B.J. …  I love all the facets of you – girl genius, angry imp, generous soul, tender and insightful woman.  I stand before you today and promise that, no matter what we go through, I’ll still be standing beside you on the other side of it.  There’s nothing – short of you or death – than can make me walk away.  Sugar, for the rest of my life, I’m yours.  That’s my vow.”

Glittered eyelashes batted as ice-blue eyes melted into the deep-sea of his sincere gaze.  She wouldn’t doubt it again.  He’d made his point.  Repeatedly.  Jon wasn’t a man who made empty promises and it was time to stop second-guessing him.

“Petey has elected to go with the traditional vows,” David segued into her portion of the ceremony.

Keeping it simple had been her original intention, as she didn’t trust herself to speak off-the-cuff in front of this many people.  In light of Jon’s vows though, she couldn’t recite canned, traditional promises.  He deserved something as personal as he’d given her.

“I changed my mind,” she interrupted apologetically.  “Unfortunately, I don’t possess the groom’s eloquent public speaking skills, so I’m going to fall back on what I am good at – recitation.”  Petey offered Jon a shy smile.  “As I was walking down the aisle toward you, I was reminded of a poem I once read.  Maybe it was in the program of a wedding I attended?  I can’t be sure of where I saw it, but it is the perfect expression for this moment, and I’d like to share that poem with you, as my vows.  The title is ‘Why Marriage?’”

The words bubbled up, not from the same place as her rambling this afternoon, but a softer place.  This was no defensive battle of words against anxiety.  This was the gentle swell and outpouring of a much sweeter emotion.

“Because to the depths of me, I long to love one person,

With all my heart, my soul, my mind, my body...

Because I need a forever friend to trust with the intimacies of me,

Who won't hold them against me,

Who loves me when I'm unlikable,

Who sees the small child in me, and

Who looks for the divine potential of me...

Because I need to cuddle in the warmth of the night

With someone who thanks God for me,

With someone I feel blessed to hold...

Because marriage means opportunity

To grow in love in friendship...

Because marriage is a discipline

To be added to a list of achievements...

Because marriages do not fail, people fail

When they enter into marriage

Expecting another to make them whole...

Because, knowing this,

I promise myself to take full responsibility

For my spiritual, mental and physical wholeness

I create me,

I take half of the responsibility for my marriage

Together we create our marriage...

Because with this understanding

The possibilities are limitless.”

Without taking a breath, Petey added a barely audible “I’m yours”, intended for his ears only.  Jon rewarded her with a look of smoldering appreciation that set her heart aflutter.

God, I love him. I love the way he can make me feel with just a look.

She would be surprised to know how similar his thoughts were at that very moment. 

My God, I love her.  She doesn’t even know what she does to me with those soft eyes and sweet words.

“Do you have the rings?”  This question was asked of both Gavin and Richie, who readily produced the jewelry that would symbolize Jon and Petey’s marriage.  “Petey, would you repeat after me?”

Nodding, she took the black wedding band sliding it up to Jon’s first knuckle.  Listening to David’s words and committing them to memory, she solemnly echoed, “Jon, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness.  As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you for today, tomorrow and always.”

The skull-etched band slid into place with the final word, eliciting Jon’s satisfied smile.  After turning to accept her ring from Richie, he slid the pink and black diamond band up to her first knuckle before earnestly delivering the same pledge.  “Petey, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness.  As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you for today, tomorrow and always.”

When the platinum band was snugged against the webbing of her fingers, David requested that they both turn and face forward.   

“Today,” he told them with uncharacteristic seriousness, “you step from two separate, individual paths to walk a new path – a single, unified path.  It may not always be an easy or pleasant one, but it will be your path, the one that you forge together.  Along the way, there will be obstacles to overcome and lessons to learn – tolerance, acceptance, compromise – these are only a few.  You’ve committed to one another today, but will you commit to learning these lessons, too?”

“I will,” Petey acquiesced without pause.

Jon’s reply was a little slower in coming, not because of indecision, but because of contemplation.  “I will.”  He gripped her hands a little too tightly.  He looked into her eyes a little too fiercely.  “More importantly, I will commit the rest of my life to learning Patience.  In every possible sense.”

Next post: Thursday, September 6 

I was asked for rings.  I have Petey's, but Jon's is kind of made up.

Petey's wedding band

Jon's, but you'll have to imagine skulls in place of the etching that's actually there.

The Dress

For those of you who have been asking, it's time to let you see Petey's dress.  I hope you like it as much as she does.

And, as a reminder, the flowers and the cake...

Now who's ready for a wedding???

158 - Final Countdown

“Give me that,” Gavin ordered as Petey grinned foolishly at the screen of her phone.  “Get your cute little tush wiggled into that dress so you can make that damn sappy face at him instead of your phone.  Gawd.  Who knew you two would turn out to be romantic?”

Gavin could have the damn phone.  Those two, simple electronic words had gone a long way toward calming her frayed nerves.  The insecurity bubbled just a bit below the surface, but it wasn't boiling over anymore.

Teresa efficiently unzipped the garment bag that was lying across the sunshine yellow comforter, saying calmly, “Everyone needs a little romance in their lives.  Even geniuses and arrogant rock stars.”

Unzipping her hoodie, she draped it over a chair and pulled a face at her mother.  “Like we’re some uncultured sub-species.  Thanks, Mom.”

“Stop that.  You know what I meant.  Even if it seems you don’t need or want the softer side of love, a little bit of romance is good for the soul.  That’s why I never begrudged your father his little… romantic tryst.”

So as not to disturb Gavin’s hair styling efforts, Petey carefully stripped the tank top over her head and put it with the hoodie. 

“Condiment King had a little fling?”  Gavin trilled as he fluffed at the pink ostrich feather trim that was interwoven with three blushing roses and matching sheer ribbon on the back rim of her hat.  “How did that turn out?”

The rustling satin of the gown quieted abruptly.  Teresa and Petey exchanged a look, and Teresa shrugged a shoulder as though to tell Petey it was up to her.

“It turned out to be a Tinkerhell.”

He gripped the brim of the hat with both hands, jaw going slack with disbelief. “Shut. UP!  You’re a bastard love genius?”

Satin rustled once again as Teresa shook out the gown’s skirt.  “Have you ever had a filter between your brain and your mouth, young man?”

“Once upon a time, in a closet far away.  I left it behind when I came out.”  He shook the black top hat and gave a single nod of approval at the delicate feathery flutter.  “So, Papa was a rolling stone…?”

Petey knew she was going to eventually regret this, but as she kicked her shoes and socks aside, unzipped her jeans and fastened her garter belt to her stockings, she filled Gavin in on the details.  She briefly told him of her father’s indiscretion, her birth mother’s death and Teresa’s commitment to keeping it all in the family – including Petey. 

“Jesus, you really are Mother Teresa,” he drawled, a glimmer of respect lighting his eyes. 

“Hardly, but none of it was any fault of Patience.  Every child deserves to be loved.”

“Oh Gawd, stop with the Hallmark moment.  You two are wreaking havoc on my guy-liner!”

With an affectionate wink for her mother, Petey smirked at Gavin.  “That’s twice today.  Your reputation is going to be in shambles before the day is over.  Accept it.”

“What.  Ever.”  Tossing his head, he sniffled and sassed back with, “Blue lingerie?  Not pink?  He’s not gonna recognize you, girlfriend.”

Embarrassment made her cheeks hot.  Stepping into the skirt, she shimmied it up over her hips and mumbled, “Heterosexual wedding traditions.”

“What?”

Her mother’s laugh tinkled in the air as she pulled up the short zipper.  “Your ‘something blue’?”

Petey nodded and tipped her chin defiantly.  “The bride is supposed to have ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue’.”

“Honey, I know that.  I’m just amazed that you know it, Goth Mistress Geek.”

“Patience…  Your corset.”  Teresa held out the top half of her wedding-dress, and Petey gave Gavin her back so that she could slip out of her bra and step into the stiff garment.  She spun and waited patiently for her mother to complete the tedious process of lacing up the back.  Once cinched around her torso, the corset created an impressive display of cleavage and a fair amount of bust spilling out the top. 

“I’m not totally out of the loop on social conformities.  Most of the time, I just don’t care to adhere to them.”

“Your snobby, educated vocabulary is wasted on me, Dollface.  I ain’t impressed.”  He stretched out his hands and ran them along the garment’s steel boning.  “However, this…?  This impresses me.  Your girls are enough to make a straight man drool in this corset.  Seeing as I bat for the other team, I just have breast envy.”

Her laugh was cut short with an especially sharp tug on the laces.  “Mom!  I need to breathe enough to say I do!”

“When you walk down the aisle and Jon’s eyes are bulging out of his head, you’ll appreciate this.”

“Well, you’re going to have to put my boots on me.  There’s no way I can bend over with it trussed that tight!”

“The dress is new,” Gavin recited, foraging in her duffel for the mid-calf Victorian boots.  “So are these.”  The light shone through the black lace insets as the shoes dangled from his fingers.  “And your hat and choker for that matter.  What about old?”

“Gloves.”

“Ah yes.”  Another trip into the bag produced a pair of black satin opera-length gloves, which he tossed to the side.  “We’ve established that the panties  and garter belt are blue.  What about borrowed?”

“Borrowed is a problem.  I don’t have anything.”  She sucked a breath in through her teeth and glared over her shoulder.  “Are you about finished redesigning my rib cage back there?”

One more series of tugs and her mother said, “Yes, smart mouth, I’m done.  Gavin, help her with the shoes while I go scrounge up something borrowed, find your bouquet and tell Henry it’s almost time.”  Petey’s oldest brother would be walking her down the aisle.

“You don’t have some treasured heirloom to lend your daughter?  I thought we were going to have another Hallmark moment here?”

“Thank you for pointing out my maternal shortcomings, but, really, all I need you to do is put on her shoes.”

“Ooh,” Gavin breathed after the door slammed shut.  “Mama T is a little touchy.”

“And you’re a little bit of a monumental pain in the ass.”

☠ ☢ ☠

Jon took a deep breath, smiled, and stuck a hand out to Henry.  “Hey, man.  I see you’re no worse for wear after getting your ass kicked last night.”  He had already made his rounds of the other guests and made sure his guitar was tuned.  After tuning his own guitar, Richie now practically had his hand in Candace’s lap.  Denny pretended not to notice or care as she talked to Tico’s wife, while Dave conspired with Teek. 

So, he stood near the altar by himself with no further way of avoiding Petey’s oldest brother. 

He didn’t have anything against Henry, except for the big bruiser’s determination to be an overbearing protector of his sister.  The incident with Daniel hadn’t proved to be a bonding experience for them, and he’d been a little bit of an arrogant ass last night.  At least until Richie and Dave had kicked his ass at bowling.  Then he’d paid to cover his wager on the game, grumbled and left with the Senator.

“Jon.”

His attitude hadn’t softened any overnight. 

“Petey said she asked you to be the one to give her away.”

“Yeah.”

Jon felt his mouth go stiff and he knew if Bergman was snapping any candid photos right now, he would see that smile his mother had bitched at him about for years.  “You look like you’re gritting your teeth.  People can tell.  Stop it.”

Well, he was gritting his teeth. 

“Are you gonna give her away or kidnap her so she doesn’t marry me?”

Henry looked down his nose at Jon.  “What do you think I should do?”

“Me, personally?  I think you should get over yourself.”  He kept his tone light and his smile as friendly as he could manage.  “She’s mine.  She wants to be mine.  I’m going to take better care of her than anybody else in her life has, and that includes you.”

Anger radiated from Henry’s body.  “Are you saying I didn’t take good care of my sister?”

“Probably better than anybody else.”

“But not as good as you can?” he scoffed.

Jon lifted a casual shoulder and absently straightened his tie.  Fucking around with his tie was a distraction from both Henry and the fact that it was a quarter ‘til four. 

“Listen, man.  You’ve got a wife.  Think about it.  You don’t love her like I do.  Simple as that.  Can we get over this pissing contest now?”

“Excuse me.”  Teresa’s voice stopped Henry from verbally replying, but he offered Jon a begrudging nod.  If he wasn’t mistaken, that might even be the faintest tinge of respect in the big man’s eyes.  “This is an odd question, but does anyone have a skull of some kind we could borrow for the ceremony?”

“Bossman, I’m not versed in the wedding rituals of the Satanic church,” David called from across the room, his hands thrown up.

“Shut your piehole, Bryan.”

David always had to have a wise ass comment.  Jon wasn’t looking forward to a reception with both him and Gavin.  He had a very real fear that it would end up being a duel to the death, with wit as their weapons.

“Teresa... I’ve got this.”  Richie unglued himself from Candace long enough to stand and pull back his jacket sleeve.  Displayed there was a bracelet Jon knew his friend had owned for years.  He hadn’t seen the heavy, silver bracelet of skulls in a while though.

He must have thought it appropriate for this particular wedding, Jon thought with a silent chuckle. 

“Perfect, Richie.”  She held out a flat palm and wiggled her fingers , silently ordering him to give it up.

“Your big goon arms are twice the size of Tink’s.  She can’t wear your bracelet.”

Teresa flapped her hand at him.  “Then she’ll wear it as an anklet.  She needs something borrowed and I think she’d appreciate skulls, since she’s the only one in the wedding party not wearing them.”  Her fingers curled around the heavy metal he deposited in her palm and she smiled.  “Thank you, Richie.” 

Bending to brush a kiss against the Senator’s cheek, the elegant older woman allowed the guitarist to reclaim his seat before rising and regarding her eldest son.  “Henry, bring Patience’s bouquet and come with me.”

Jon’s gut clenched and he straightened the soft pink rose sitting on his lapel.  It was almost game time. 

“Jon….”  Teresa’s commanding voice captured his attention.  “You’ve got ten minutes.  Are you ready?”

He had a song.  Richie had a song.  They had their monkey suits on, with the accompany boutonnieres.  He sort of knew what he wanted to say.  There was no fighting amongst the guests for the moment.  The kids were being docile.  Bergman was here for pictures, and Lemma was…  Well, Jon thought he had given Lemma enough direction and threats to keep it reasonable. 

All he needed was a bright-eyed imp to make it complete. 

Jon shook out his jacket sleeves a bit nervously and inhaled the scent of all the roses and lilies scattered around the room.    

Jesus.  He was really doing this.

“Yes, ma’am.  I’m ready.”

You are cordially invited to a wedding….

Tuesday, September 4

Twelve noon EDT

157 - I'm Yours

“Tinkerhell,” David greeted as she stepped out of the limo and slung a duffel bag over her shoulder.  “How are you?  You look demonically beautiful, as always.”

Petey smiled and lifted her cheek to receive his kiss. “Hi, David.  Thanks.”  Taking in his long, black coat and dark slacks, she said, “You look quite dapper, yourself.”

“Hello, Goldilocks,” Gavin drawled, materializing from the depths of the vehicle with her dress  bag and a hatbox.

“Hey, Gavin.” 

That was pretty amusing.  David wasn’t giving it back to Gavin like he did everyone else.  He must be unsure as to how far he could push her Fairy Gaymother.

“Ready for your big day, Tink?” 

She readily turned over her duffel when he offered to take it, and tucked chilled hands in the over-sized pocket of her hoodie.  January in Jersey was cold.   Here, on the edge of the Navesink River, it was quite reminiscent of Pittsburgh and the cool, damp air that would blow off of the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers.  Nostalgia aside, it might be nice to spend January in a warm climate for a change, someday. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Aside from the neurotic fit she’d permitted to consume her the entire way?  After she’d quoted the third literary work highlighting a tragic romance, Gavin had threatened to gag her.  He swore he would have, but he’d be damned if would ruin his cosmetic skillfulness by smudging her lip gloss with a sock.

“I don’t know.  That whole ball and chain thing I guess.  It freaks some people out.”

“Oh, not our precious Peteykins.  She’s got the chains and a brass set of balls to go with them, isn’t that right Ms. Bronte?”

Thick eyebrows knit together and David’s eyes darted back and forth between her and Gavin, trying to find the right dose of sarcasm for the moment.  There must not have been a right dose.

“Um, ok.”  He zeroed in on Petey, Gavin clearly putting him out of his element.  “ Tink?  I’ve been meaning to ask.  Did you and Jon write your own vows, or should I stick with the traditional ones?  I have a few words of my own…”

The toe of Petey’s sparkly pink tennis shoe bumped against the first step of the stoop and she didn’t move any further.    She hadn’t thought about vows.  At all. 

You’re an idiot.  The ceremony that seals the rest of your life to another person and you haven’t given the first thought to what you’re going to promise him?

What was significant, yet appropriate to set the foundation for a marriage like theirs?

An excerpt from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?

What vows could possibly outline the depths of her insecurity at this moment?  What if she sucked as a wife?  Was he going to decide to hook up with a mistress in every city?  Someone who understood him better than she did?  And how could she be expected to know him?  They’d only met weeks ago.  Did he feel an obligation because of her haywire life and occasional psychological instability?  What was it going to be like when sex wasn’t the focal point of their relationship?  Would they have anything to talk about?

“I'm not asking you to forgive me. I'll never understand or forgive myself. And if a bullet gets me, so help me, I'll laugh at myself for being an idiot.”

Gavin threw his head back and blew a visible breath straight up into the cold air.  “Christ.  Here we go again….  Where the hell is that man of hers?  Somebody get him.  Now!”

David darted that same befuddled look at Gavin as he had before, but he spoke to Petey.  “What are you talking about, a bullet?”

“She’s reciting some romantic literary tragedy,” Gavin spat, breezing past her to throw open Dorothea’s front door without so much as a perfunctory knock.  “Where the hell is Jon Bon Jovi?”

She heard it all going on around her, but she was helpless to do anything but let her mind drive itself on autopilot.  It was the only thing keeping her from disintegrating into a babbling puddle of nonsense on the front steps of the big house. 

“There's one thing I do know... and that is that I love you, Scarlett. In spite of you and me and the whole silly world going to pieces around us, I love you.”

“Is… Is that Gone With the Wind?”

“How many Scarletts do you know, Curly?” Gavin threw back over his shoulder before drawing up short.  He’d almost barreled his chest into Dorothea’s face. 

“Gavin what are you screaming about?”

“Her,” he huffed.  “She’s been reciting for damn-near two hours.  She’s completely freaked out about this marriage gig.  Jon has to talk to her.”

“I just sent him upstairs and told him he couldn’t see her before the wedding.”

“Patience?”  Her mother sidled through the door, her arm slipping around Petey’s shoulders.  She gently urged, “Come inside, dear.  We’ll find Henry.  You know he always soothes you.”

“Aren’t you listening to me, Mother Teresa?”  Gavin twice snapped his fingers next to her ear.  “Need JBJ.  Stat.”  He whirled on Dorothea, who still stood inside the doorway.  “And you, Snarkalicious…  I think a bridal meltdown trumps your heterosexual wedding traditions.” 

There was going to be a brawl on the stoop and Petey was helpless to referee.  The card-carrying genius that she was could only mutter, “Because we're alike. Bad lots, both of us. Selfish and shrewd. But able to look things in the eyes as we call them by their right names.”

At her mother’s persistent urging, she finally dragged her scuffed shoes up and over the two steps that stood between her and the marble foyer.  The others trooped in behind her, shutting the cold out with a slam of the massive door.  She tentatively permitted her thoughts to stray away from Margaret Mitchell’s saga and back to her own life, but not to Jon.  To her state of attire.

“Dorothea, where can Patience change into her gown?”

“One of the guest rooms upstairs.  I’ll show you the way.”

“Petey?  What’s wrong?  Are you sick?” 

Candace.  The high-pitched, slightly whiny question pushed away any remaining fog and demanded that Petey be lucid. 

I can’t let her see me like this.

She commanded her lips to curve upward and, in the process, reclaimed her customary critical thinking skills.  Easing out from under her mother’s concerned arm, she took a deep breath and called up an affable, “Hi, Candace.  I’m glad you could come.”

“Oh?  So this is Candace?” Gavin gave her a thorough once-over before presenting his hand.  “I’m the maid of honor, but you may call me Gavin.  And you may call me at my salon tomorrow to fix that botched dye-job.”

Candace dropped his hand like a hot potato and drew back.  Her appalled gasp was overshadowed by Dorothea’s outright and David’s choked laughter. 

“Delightful little ensemble you’re wearing, there girlfriend.  Especially those thigh-high boots.  Classy.”  He cocked his head and asked with curious innocence, “So I guess you’re going to work after this?  Couldn’t find anybody to cover your corner tonight?”

“Gavin!” 

Petey needn’t have worried.  Candace didn’t get the viciously pointed barb.  Her face contorted into a bewildered rumple, and she offered a breathy, “Huh?  Tony didn’t tell me anything about working tonight.    I know you’ve been out a while, but you’re not working tonight, are you Petey?  It’s your wedding night.” 

I should let Gavin devour her like the shark he is. Survival of the fittest and all that.

But she just smiled as though Candace had asked the most natural, reasonable question in the world.  “No, I’m not.  But I am going to be late for my own wedding if I don’t get dressed.  I’ll see you after the ceremony Candace.”

“Petey, you can have the yellow guest room,” Dorothea managed while smothering a grin.  “The one you stayed in at New Year’s.  Can you find it okay?”

“Sure.  Thanks, Dorothea.”   With that, she and her wedding party – her mother and Gavin – trouped up the staircase. 

Behind them, Dorothea was doling out instructions for the remaining guests in the foyer.  “David, Tico is in the living room, or Jon and Richie are in the big blue bedroom.  Take your pick.  Candace, you can come with me.  I’ll introduce you to the other guests.”

Dorothea was getting a big thank you gift.  Huge, in fact.  Maybe a car?

☠ ☢ ☠

“Dammit, Jon, don’t lecture me!  I’m not a fuckin’ kid and this is not your concern.”  Richie shrugged angrily into his jacket and glared at Jon. The pink tie with the black skulls was perfectly tied – without Jon or Tony’s assistance.  In fact, Tony, sensing the direction the wind was blowing, had bailed before they ever reached the guest room.  Something about Candace was offered up as a lame excuse.

Having more than had his fill of this whole cockamamie situation, Jon threw his hands into the air. 

“You know what?  That’s cool.  This is my wedding day – which is in the week following Hell freezing over on a calendar – and I’m not going to stress over your damn love life.  Do what you wanna do, but when it’s over, just remember that Denny and I are the ones who will be there to pick up the pieces.  We always are.”

Richie’s mouth flew open to offer a few more choice words, but Lemma’s barreling in the door cut him short. 

He copped a dramatic pose and rattled off, “Okay, I know I heard about it, but that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her do that reciting shit.  It’s  a little bit creepy.”

Jon and Richie both snapped their eyes toward Dave, but Jon found his voice first.  “Petey’s reciting?  Why?  What’s wrong?”

Blond curls shook along with his head and his eyebrows lifted high.  “You got me, man.  Gavin said she’d been doing it for the last couple of hours and was freaked out about getting married.  He was on his way to get you when D stopped him.”

Stopped him?  The one time Petey’s friend had done something Jon wholeheartedly approved of and Dottie had tried to stop him?  To hell with that.

He strode toward the door, his hand wrapped around the knob before David could grab his shoulder and drag him to a halt.  “Wait.  She’s okay now.  I mean, at least, she seemed to be.  She talked to Candace for a minute, yelled at Gavin, and then came upstairs to get dressed.”

Okay.  That was good, but…  Dammit.

This was exactly what he’d been afraid of earlier.  She was thinking too much again, and worrying about shit.    How was he going to convince her of that with Doberman Dottie running the halls? Starting a fight with his ex was not going to create blissful wedding memories.  For anybody.

Scrambling for an answer, last night popped into his head.  The way she’d been so adamantly possessive.  Could that be it? 

Please let it be that simple.

He whipped the phone out of his pocket while his two friends looked on.  Even if it didn’t address every issue going through that overachiever brain of hers, he hoped it would be enough to temporarily stave off the anxiety until he could get to her.  Until he could convince her he truly meant it.

[3:30 PM]JON: I’m yours.

 

 Next post:  Thursday, August 30