107 - Tell Mama

Jon opened the door without knocking and stepped into the warmly tiled vestibule, holding Petey’s hand.  “Mom?  We’re here!”  In an aside, he muttered, “I can’t believe she wasn’t standing on the porch waiting for us.”

Petey smiled woodenly, her Chucks squeaking on the tile when she turned from closing the door.  Hurried footsteps came from the back of the house along with an overjoyed feminine squeal.  “Oh, Jonny!  It’s been too long!”

Jon had no choice but to release Petey’s hand when his mother enveloped him in a monstrous hug.  Petey’s first thought when Carol Bongiovi peppered Jon’s cheeks with loud, smacking kisses was that she sincerely loved her son.  Her blue eyes sparkled with the excitement and her brightly painted fingernails stood out in stark relief against Jon’s face where she cradled it in her palms.

“Mom, it’s only been two weeks,” he chided, but his eyes were crinkled with affection for the woman he so strongly resembled. 

Releasing his face, she flipped her hands carelessly.  “I don’t care.  I love to see my boys, and I know once you start your tour it will be months before you darken my doorstep again.  Now…”  She squared her shoulders and her demeanor cooled by at least ten degrees.  “Introduce me to your young lady.”

He dipped his chin in acknowledgement and wound a lazy arm around Petey’s shoulders.  “Mom, this is P. T. Diehl, otherwise known as Petey.  Petey this is my mom, Carol.”

Determinedly smiling, Petey stuck out her hand in greeting.  “Hello Mrs. Bongiovi.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh my,” Carol murmured, accepting her hand briefly.  “Your eyes are pink.”

Jon grinned and his hand gave Petey a gentle squeeze.  Better that his mother noticed those than the bruising that Petey had artfully concealed with makeup.  the proof of her recent altercation wasn't even noticeable.  “They’re contact lenses.  Her natural eye color is a very pretty shade of blue.”

“Then why hide them behind those?”  Confusion contorted Carol’s features, as though she couldn’t understand why anyone would want pink eyes.  She probably couldn’t.

Zombie lenses and cat-eyes are definitely out unless I want to piss her off on purpose.

“I enjoy something different occasionally.  I have a variety of colors,” Petey replied mildly.

The older woman’s mouth tightened.  “Well.  Let’s not stand here in the hallway.  John!” she called, taking a few steps further into the home’s interior.  “Jonny’s here!” 

Jon took Petey’s jacket and hung them both in the closet.  Latching onto her hand once again, they followed his mother’s footsteps and he murmured, “I love you.  Remember that.”

She softly chuckled, and returned quietly, “I love you, too.  Remind me of that when this is over.”

The flash of teeth was brief but brilliant as they crossed the threshold into the living room.  Jon’s mother was sitting in an armchair on the far side of the sofa and coffee table, and his father immediately joined them.

“Jonny, my boy!”  The elder John threw up his hands and pulled his son close for a brief, but fierce hug.  “I’ve almost got that sauce down pat.  It won’t be long now.”

“Good!  You let me know when you’re ready and I’ll get the ball rolling with some phone calls.”  He turned to Petey.  “My dad is going to produce his pasta sauce commercially.”

“Well it’s certainly good enough to be in stores.”  She lit up her dimples for the handsome, older gentleman who more strongly resembled Tony and Matt than Jon.  “I was lucky enough to sample it when Jon fixed me dinner.”

“Pop, this is Petey.”

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, skimming over her petite frame and stopping briefly on her glittery tennis shoes, before sweeping back to her face.  In a move just as charming as his eldest ever dreamed of, he picked up Petey’s hand and brought it to his lips.  “Petey,” he greeted.  “Anybody who arrives on the arm of my son and likes my sauce is always welcome here.”

“Jonny, sit down here on the couch.”

Was it Petey’s imagination or had the invitation to sit been more of a barked order?

“Thank you, Mr. Bongiovi.”  She offered him a sincere smile and joined Jon on the sofa, while the senior John took up the armchair on the opposite end of the couch from his wife.

“Tell us about yourself, Petey.  Are you from New Jersey?” Jon’s father inquired with what appeared to be real interest.

“No, sir.  I’m actually from Pittsburgh.  I moved to New York a few years ago, looking for an adventure and found one.  Tony hired me as a video tech, and I’ll be part of the crew that goes on tour with Jon.”

“You work for our Anthony?  That’s convenient.”

At her mocking tone, Jon shot his mother a warning glance.  She was too busy frowning at the skull on the front of Petey’s hoodie to pay him any heed.

At least it has a cute pink bow on it and not blood.  Be thankful for what you can get, lady.

“Yeah, actually, it is.”  Jon cleared his throat, shifting only a slight bit before locking gazes with his mom.  “I would have introduced Petey eventually, anyway, but the reason we’re here today is…”  He picked up Petey’s left hand and Carol’s eyes zeroed in on the ring with laser-like precision.  If her jacket and hoodie sleeves hadn’t been so long, Petey knew that she would’ve spotted it sooner.  “…to invite you to our wedding on Saturday.” 

Jon’s eyes warmed Petey when she smiled up into them, and she clutched at his hand a little more firmly, bracing herself. 

If she thought Carol’s demeanor had cooled by ten degrees in the hallway, it dropped by a good fifteen at that little announcement.

“Wedding?” she inquired with cool disbelief.  “On Saturday?  That’s not funny, Jonny.”

“It’s not supposed to be, Mom.  We’re getting married three o’clock Saturday out at the Navesink house.  We’d like it if you could be there.”

There went another five degrees.  How cold could Carol get before she froze herself solid?

“Is she pregnant?”

Gee, that was a surprise.  Not.

“No, she’s not pregnant,” he sighed in frustration.  “It would be nice if you could get to know her before you pass judgment.”

“It would’ve been nice to know her before you put a ring on her finger.” 

It was easy to see where Jon learned his stubborn belligerence.  Carol Bongiovi was snark on a stick.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out that way, but it didn’t.”

“Yes.  Well, the ring is lovely.”  Carol smoothed her hands down her pant legs, giving her husband an acidic look.  “John, why don’t you show Petey your sauce setup while I talk to Jonny for a minute?  I want to ask about the children.”

“No, Mom.”  Jon wouldn’t be bullied, and his fingers stayed cemented in between Petey’s, silently instructing her to not to go anywhere.  “We can talk about the kids or anything else you wanna talk about with Petey here.”

John shot his wife a cautionary glance, which Carol completely disregarded.

“I want to talk to you about her.” 

Patting Jon’s hand with her free one, Petey leaned forward in her seat, narrowing her eyes at her future mother-in-law.  “Is your problem with me, or the way I dress?”

The platinum haired woman’s attention pivoted from Jon to Petey.  “My problem is that you are a young girl who isn’t exactly an ideal fit into the life my son has built for himself.  He has lofty ambitions and needs a strong, intelligent, capable woman to stand beside him and make them happen.  To support his dreams.  You…”  Carol looked Petey up and down.  “…are not that woman.”

“Dammit, Mom-“ Jon began at the same time his father said, “Carol – “

Petey casually lifted a hand to silence the men, smiling deliberately at the elder John.  “She’s welcome to say whatever she likes.  As long as she realizes it isn’t me she’s hurting with her snide comments.  It’s Jon’s judgment she’s questioning.”  She swung her face back to Carol.  “So why is it that you think I’m not that woman?”

She snorted.  “Why is it that you think you are?  It’s clear that you don’t have the social sense to fit into the Washington, DC crowd, where Jonny has been spending so much of his time.  I’m sure you’re more into your black fingernail polish and sparkly sneakers than you are the inner workings of our country.  If you’re looking for a Sugar Daddy, you can just keep on looking, because I won’t let Jonny do this.”

Petey had to forcibly restrain Jon from leaping toward his mother in anger.  “Jesus, I can’t believe you would say that!”

“Somebody has to,” his mother informed him with no remorse.  “Son, I would think by now you would know the difference between women you screw and women you marry.” 

“Carol, that’s enough!”  John bellowed rising to his feet.  “That you would speak to a guest in our house that way.  Our son’s fiancée no less!  My God…”

Jon was on his feet too, fists clenched at his sides and glaring at his mother.  Petey, however, remained seated on the sofa and shrugged with indifference.  “I hear it’s not much worse than what she says to her own sons, so I guess that means I’m family.”  Ever so casually, she rose to her feet, slipping an arm around Jon’s waist.

His mother was the only one still sitting, and Petey addressed her next comments directly to her.

“I’m sorry you don’t like my wardrobe, but you aren’t the first and won’t be the last.  As for everything else….  I’m thirty-eight, hardly a young girl.  My intelligence…  Well, I normally don’t mention it, but I’m a member of MENSA and a Ph.D.  You can call me doctor if you like,” she invited.  “I’m not crazy about politics, but I’ve picked up enough to fit into the Washington, DC crowd since my father and step-father were both U.S. Senators.  My step-father is currently running for President.”  She bared every tooth in an over bright smile.  “We’d appreciate your vote.”

Jon was coughing discreetly and his father’s face bloomed with admiration.  Whether it was from Petey’s laundry list of demographical information or her cheeky attitude, she couldn’t be sure.

“And by the term Sugar Daddy,” she continued conversationally, noting that Carol’s face had gone a bit pale.  “I assume you think I’m after Jon’s money as well.   If so, you’ll be happy to know I have more money than he does.  Did I mention I’m an heiress on top of everything else?  So yes, I believe it’s my clothes you have a problem with, not me.  When you decide you want to talk instead of looking down your nose at me, I’m more than happy to do that.  In the meantime, I’m done here.”

Touching Jon’s sleeve, she kissed his cheek and said quietly, “I’ll be in the car.  Take your time.”  Petey then turned to Jon’s dad.  “Mr. Bongiovi it was a pleasure meeting you.  I hope to see you at the wedding."”  She drew a concentrated breath and nodded to Carol.  “I hope to see you as well.”

“Petey, don't leave this way.  I don’t want you and my mother to hate each other,” Jon murmured.

“Don't worry about that,” was her dismissive response.  She smiled charmingly.  “We don’t hate each other, we’re just cultivating a relationship of open honesty.  Aren't we, Mrs. Bongiovi?”

With that, she pivoted on her heel and retraced her steps to the living room doorway.  She had just stepped through it when she remembered something else.  “Oh.  There was one thing you were right about though, Mrs. Bongiovi.  Jon does know that there are women you screw and women you marry.  He was pretty happy when he figured out I'm both. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

She waggled her fingers and sauntered out of the house, pausing only to snag her jacket from the hall closet. 

A black wedding dress would be perfect.  With pink skulls all over it.  Maybe I’ll wear a bone in my nose.