89 - Thank You for Loving Me

Jon lifted his face to the ceiling, eyes closed, and counted to ten. This had been the longest six hours of his life. This was why he religiously ran on the treadmill and stayed healthy.  He needed the energy to keep up with his hyperactive sons.

Lord, God almighty.  Dottie must've given them a gallon of coffee before I came by.

Jake and Romeo had been on a wild tear ever since he got them from Dorothea’s, chattering non-stop on the car ride and then racing through the apartment like animals escaped from the zoo.  He wasn't to the end of the driveway before he figured out why Dottie didn’t tell him goodbye, but good luck.  If she hadn't had a genuine look of sympathy on her face, he would think she did it on purpose.

“Romeo!  Get your Optimus Prime out of the kitchen floor!  If I step on it one more time, it’s going in the recycle bin!”

Somewhere beneath the giggles and screams of 'brotherly love', he thought he heard the doorbell.

No way.  Not yet.

Twisting his watch around so that he could see its face, Jon found that it was almost five.  As eager as he was to see Petey, he hadn’t even had the chance to change his shirt since refereeing the food fight between Jake and Romeo at lunch.  Her sweet cotton candy probably wasn't going to mix well with the stench of crusty hot dog sauce.

The only positive note to the whole that was that they only did this shit at home.  They'd been raised well enough - by their mother - that they acted like little angels in public.

Dorothea needs more alimony.

“Steph?  Could you get the door please?”  His eldest was in the living room tinkering with the jukebox that had finally arrived yesterday, and admiring her taste in electronics.  If Petey didn’t run for the hills after an evening with his darling heathens, he hoped she would help him get it up and running.  Anything to get his tenacious daughter off his back.  She’d done nothing but prod him about it since she got here.

I love my kids.  I love my kids.

“Yeah, Dad!” came the voice of his girl-angel.

“I’m gonna run upstairs and change.  Tell Petey I’ll be right down,” he called over his shoulder, shaking his head at the screams of pain that morphed into giggles and banging from the boys’ room.

“Okay!”

Taking the steps two at a time, he paused mid-way and took the chance to yell at Jesse on his way through.  “Jess!  Are you about ready?”

“Yeah!”

What had ever made him think this was a good idea?  The first time she was subjected to the full impact of his brood should not be on the streets of New York, or among a huge crowd of basketball fanatics.

The boys have never made a spectacle of you or themselves in public.  They’re just getting it out of their systems now.  Besides, with those whack jobs who paint their faces and wear colored afros, they'll blend right in.

Dropping his t-shirt in the hamper, he flipped through the hangers until he found a favorite blue Henley shirt that was only slightly worn.  Dorothea probably would’ve hidden it from him if they were still married, because women just didn’t understand the redeeming qualities of a shirt or pair of jeans that had been thoroughly broken in.  He could wear the same two pairs of jeans and three t-shirts for a month.  They got more comfortable the longer he wore them.

He ran a quick brush through his hair and swiped on some deodorant.  Grabbing his jacket, he strode through the study and into the hall before coming up short.  Stephanie was standing as sentry to the stairs, with her arms crossed and a ferocious look contorting her normally pretty features into those of that little kid in The Omen movies.  If he’d been a teenage boy - hell, less of a man, even - his testicles would’ve shriveled.

I’ve got to talk to Dorothea about what she’s teaching this girl.

He crossed his arms similarly, tucking his jacket in the bend, and returned her look with only half the ferocity.  “What?”

“Daddy!” she hissed, just like that demon-possessed kid.  “You’ve turned her into a…”  Her head quivered as she fought for the right word.  “…Democrat!”

“I've done no such-“ Wait.  What the… WHAT? His brows slammed down in complete bewilderment. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

One long, delicate finger pointed down the stairs with all the disapproval and scorn of an old school marm.  “You are such a hypocrite!  Go see for yourself.  Go look at what you’ve done, Mr. White Bread Rock Star.”

“Hey!”  His own finger snapped up with a threatening wag in Stephanie’s face, and he asserted his authoritarianism and paternal rights. “You listen to me, young lady.  I’m still the father here, and you will show a little respect.” 

Fuming blue eyes narrowed into angry slits.  While she refrained from saying anything further, he could swear she was mumbling about his not knowing what respect was.

At this point, he was more than a little curious as to what turned his daughter into a snarky hellcat.  Jon strolled calmly past his simmering offspring with a smugly muttered, “And she was born  a Democrat,” before taking  the steps down two at a time.

Once his boots hit the floor of the lower level, he quietly made his way to the living room where he could see the backs of three heads lined up on the couch.  Petey’s sleek dark head was in the middle, and the smaller ones of Romeo and Jake were on her left and right, respectively.  The boys were enamored with whatever she held in her lap.

Jon slipped up behind the couch and, leaning silently forward over her shoulder, saw that she was manipulating the parts of Optimus Prime so that he looked like a rocket.  Optimus Prime was only supposed to transform into a car.  No wonder the boys’ eyes were as wide as saucers.

“Hey,” he greeted her quietly, putting a hand on the shoulder of her baby pink sweater.  She tried to swivel her head to look at him, but Romeo’s palm on the side of her face prevented it. 

“Da-aad!” he complained with a fierce look that he must have learned from his sister.  “She’s almost finished.  Don’t talk to her!”

The slight shoulder under his hand shook with restrained laughter.  “Sorry.  I’m almost done,” his imp said in a low voice.

Jake took his turn to scowl at Jon before pinning his eyes right back to what Petey was doing.

Jesus.  What happened to kids that loved me to the exclusion of everything else??

It looked like it would be a few minutes, so he gave an exaggerated huff and sidled away from the couch to toss his jacket on the chair.  When he turned back around, Stephanie’s eyebrows were raised and she was jerking her head toward Petey. Apparently whatever indiscretion he'd committed would be revealed by an inspection of Petey.

Sighing, Jon took his first good look at his… girlfriend.  It was as good a label as any.

The inky hair was smooth and shiny, having obviously been flat ironed again.  He couldn’t see her face, but her clothing was disappointingly tame – a soft, pink sweater with a big cowl neck, skinny black jeans and a pair of dress boots that were also black. 

“There you go guys.”  She handed the finished rocket to Romeo, and Jake ran over to get a closer look at the newly converted toy.  Petey unveiled her dimples, smiling up at Jon.  “Who knew an engineering degree would be so useful?”

He smiled back at her, now understanding what Stephanie meant.  If Petey had any makeup on at all, it wasn’t much.  Her eyelashes may have been darkened, and there was a shiny pale tint to her lips, but that was it.  No funky jewelry, no funky boots.  Nothing of her usual eccentricity.  If it hadn’t been for the pink tipped hair, she would have been… plain.  She was still a gorgeous woman, but this wasn’t his imp, it was Patience.

“Glad your fancy degree didn’t go to waste,” he agreed, unsure as to how he felt about her appearance.  Was it good that she wasn’t going to draw any undue attention, other than her slightly offbeat hair?  Or had she sold herself out for his ego and reputation?  He intended to find out, and find out right now.

“Jess,” he acknowledged his son, who had just entered the room.  “Gimme five minutes and we’ll go get Ashley.  Petey…”  Jon held out his hand to help her from the sofa.  “…can I talk to you in the kitchen?”

Pale blue eyes became wary.  Pale blue.  She wasn’t even wearing her crazy contact lenses.  He absolutely loved her blue eyes, but he’d gotten so used to expecting the unexpected with her…

Jon shook his head as they walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen, with Stephanie mumbling ‘I told you so’ as they passed.  Once they rounded the doorway, he casually twirled Petey around to face him.  Bickering was the last thing he wanted to do, so he started with an easy kiss on her cheek.  “Hi, Sugar.  How are ya?”

“I’m okay.”  Both her voice and her body language were wary.  “How are you?”

“I’m good.”  The ebony curtain was satiny soft as he pushed it back to reveal an unadorned eyebrow.  “You look beautiful, but can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah…?”

“What’s Patience doing here?” was his gentle inquiry.  “She doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy a basketball game with a bunch of rowdy kids.”

Guileless eyes blinked up at him in surprise.  “I just thought…”  Her gaze slid beyond his right shoulder and out the kitchen window.  “With your kids and all…”  She blew out a breath and pushed a hand through her hair, causing it to slither into disarray.  “I don’t know.  I was trying not to embarrass you or them.”

“Baby, come here.”  A leisurely tug had her standing within the loose circle of his embrace.  “Three weeks ago – hell, maybe even a week ago – I would have gratefully accepted your thoughtfulness.  But that was before I met Patience.  Don’t get me wrong.  She was a stunning,  well-spoken socialite who gave the appearance of perfection.”  He feathered a kiss across her brow.  “With no imp qualities whatsoever.  I fell in love with an imp.  Petey, not Patience.”

Relief flooded her face, and her little body went from being rigid to melting into his.  “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he chuckled, squeezing her close.  “I've grown up a little lately, and I think you should strive to live up to the message you tattooed on your back..  ‘To thine own self be true’.  Do that, and I promise I’ll never be embarrassed by you.”

She dipped her head with a bashful smile, and her cheeks were rosy as she burrowed into his shoulder.  The bulk of his flesh muffled her voice when asking, “But what about the kids?”

He threw his head back and barked with laughter.  “Do you have any idea what Steph said to me upstairs?  She accused me of being a hypocrite and turning you into a Democrat.  A Democrat, for God’s sake!  Trust me, Sugar, my kids like you as is.  A woman who knows her way around Optimus Prime is as good as a rock star.  Probably better.”

She giggled into his chest, and then eased away from him, flattening her palms lightly against the hard pectoral muscles hiding under his faded shirt.  Standing on tiptoe she went in for a sweet, clinging kiss.  “I already loved you, but that cemented the deal.  I don’t know when or why it happened, but thank you for loving the real me.”

Framing her face, he stole one more smacking kiss before letting his hands slide down to capture hers.  “That goes both ways, Sugar.  Now.  Are you ready to hit the road with the traveling Bongiovi circus?”

“I can’t wait.”