110 - Pretty Maids All in a Row

 “So this guy thinks I have a great ass, huh?”  Jon asked warily as they stepped out of the cold, whipping wind and into Petey’s old apartment building. 

Having a driver was quite possibly one of the best perks of money, he mused.  Never having to worry about finding a space, or traffic.  All he had to do was get in and out of the car and let somebody else worry about defensive driving.  One quick text and the driver would swoop in to retrieve them when they were done.

Worth every damn penny after a day like today.  If God has any mercy, Gavin will be happy for Petey.  One more negative reaction to this marriage and I’m going to make her elope with me.   

Following a lengthy discussion and further assurances that Petey wasn’t trying to replace anyone and that Dad would be there just as much as he ever had, the kids had finally reached the stage of acceptance.  Of course, that wasn’t before giving their old man a few more gray hairs and grumbled arguments first.

And after all that, I know Jess is still only paying lip service.  He’s not happy about it for some reason.

Jon resolved to follow up with his man child again tomorrow.  For now, he took enjoyment in Petey’s glee over his mild Gavin anxiety.  She seemed blessedly oblivious that Jesse’s endorsement wasn’t wholehearted.

“Yes, Gavin thinks you have a great ass, but once he finds out it’s attached to my fiancé, I’m sure he’ll be very mannerly and not grope it.”

He grimaced, and it only served to feed her humor.  She was almost giggling when they hit the second floor landing.  Jon pulled her to a stop and spun her around until they were chest to chest.

“You’re finding this way too entertaining,” he growled against her lips before claiming her mouth with a blistering possession.  There would be no doubt in her mind about his unwavering sexuality.  He would leave this meeting just as anxious to get in her panties as he was right now.  He held her firmly in his grip, plundering the recesses of her mouth until it was let her go or walk into her friend’s apartment with a blatantly obvious zipper bulge.

“Come on,” Petey tugged playfully on his hand, even though her eyes were glazed with the same desire he felt in his.  “Only one more flight and you get to meet my Fairy Gaymother.”

“Your fairy what?” he choked out, heavy boots reluctantly scuffing against each step as he followed in her wake.  The distraction her pronouncement was enough to coerce his erection back into a semi-soft state.

Her grin lit up the dim hallway on the third floor.  “My Fairy Gaymother was the one who helped me get ready for the New Year’s Eve party.  I’d told him about my Tinkerhell nickname, so Gavin called me Tinkerella and said he was my Fairy Gaymother.”

“Lord, God,” he muttered trailing along behind her.  “You tell me this guy turned you into a sexpot so that you could go out with Richie and expect me to like him?  This should be something to remember.”

Her carefree laughter couldn’t help but make him smile.  He was well aware that he bitched just for the sake of bitching sometimes, and she seemed to know it too.  Another example of how she spoke his language.

“With Gavin it always is,” she said with confidence.  Once she had knocked lightly, Petey reached behind her to where Jon stood, silently beseeching him to put his hand in hers.  As his reward for co=mingling their fingers and locking them intimately together, she tossed a sweet smile over her shoulder. 

“Dollface!  How the hell-“  Jon knew the instant that the spiky headed, rail-thin man spotted him.  Gavin’s eyes leisurely crawled up to the top of his head and slowly worked their way down over every inch of his body that wasn’t obscured by Petey’s petite form. 

He could easily see how the guy could be somebody’s fairy “gaymother”.  His features were fine boned in his long face, and his platinum hair boasted a jagged cut emphasized by some type of stiff goo that had been worked through it.  A form-fitting red sweater hugged his body along with the skinniest legged pants he’d seen on a man since Richie quit wearing them in the nineties.

Other than that, he’s just one of the guys.

He stood his ground and met the younger man’s eyes even when he really wanted to squirm at the in-depth inspection.  Fortunately the guy was just looking, not leering. 

“Well, well, well.  Here I thought Christmas had already passed.   And who knew Santa was really a little Goth kewpie doll?  Obviously, though, I’ve been a very good boy.”

Jon forced himself not to flinch at the blatant words, but Petey was completely unaffected by her friend’s outrageousness.  “Gavin, be nice,” she chastised before turning her face to Jon.  “Honey, this is my friend Gavin.”  She reverted her attention back to the man standing in the doorway.  “Gavin this is Jon.  My fiancé.”

Jon started to reach out to shake, but gave up when Gavin’s hands flew up excitedly and he squealed, “Shut up, you little hussy!  I thought you were dating Richie Sambora?”  He smacked Petey’s shoulder lightly and speculative eyes tried to devour Jon once again.  “Although I can totally see the appeal.”

Gavin is going to take some getting used to.

“Now who’s being the hussy,” she chastised.  “I told you Richie and I were only friends.  Invite us in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Mm-hmm,” he grunted with disbelief, stepping back to allow them entry.  “And you also told me you don’t do relationships, yet you’re sporting a…” He snatched up her left hand as she passed by, inspecting it closely before allowing it to drop from his fingers with disdain.  “…fucking gorgeous pink diamond, obviously chosen by someone who has known you more than a hot second.”  The door slammed and he waggled his finger at her.  “Liar, liar pants on fire, Miss Thang.”

I am all about live and let live, but after this I’m gonna need beer, football and a good ball scratch.  Or at the very least, a hot imp clinging to me like poison ivy while I make her scream with pleasure.

“Yeah, well…”  Soft pink eyes locked with his and Jon forgot about his discomfort.  “Somebody changed my mind.”

“Awww!”  Two long, bony hands folded and clasped over his heart as he sniffed melodramatically.  “You’re gonna make me cry!  Tell me all about it, Romeo and Juliet”

Jon grinned when Petey lifted her eyes to the ceiling with feigned exasperation.  “Gavin, you’re such a girl.”

He waved an impatient hand toward the sofa, “Only on the weekends, darling.  Now, Romeo and Juliet, park your cute little asses and tell me all about it.”  He skirted the coffee table and folded himself into a funky black armchair that was overstuffed, but one arm sat higher than the other and the back slanted accordingly.  It was just as eclectic as Gavin, in Jon’s opinion.

“Not exactly a great analogy, considering we’re older than thirteen and still alive.”  Perching on the edge of the mocha microsuede cushions, Petey patted Jon’s thigh as he reclined against the sofa’s back. 

“Must you always be so damn literal?” her friend huffed.  “Do you not have a romantic bone in that dark little body of yours?”

How ironic, Jon thought, appreciating that he wasn’t the only one who’d been stuck with the label of unromantic.  He was finding himself leaning that way more though.  Maybe she wasn’t an imp, but a sorceress.  He lifted an ankle to rest on the opposite knee and cracked his knuckles as Petey told the abbreviated story of what had happened since New Year’s Eve. 

“New Year’s Eve wasn’t so great,” she confessed to Gavin.  “I got threatened-“

“Attacked.”  Gaymother needed to know the severity of the situation if they would be out together this week.

“Attacked,” she reluctantly amended, with a cross look at Jon.  “By the man who was here looking for me.” 

Gavin’s face pinched up into a snitty thundercloud and he spat, “That Tweedy Bird bastard!” 

“What did you just call him?” Jon choked out on a laugh.  “Tweety Bird?”  He couldn’t remember but he thought Tony had called him Big Bird.  What was with the bird references.

I’d jump on the band wagon with jail bird, though.

“Twee-Dee,” Gavin enunciated.  “As in nasty, outdated Harris tweed.  The asshole has no taste in clothing whatsoever and a nose like a beak.  Hence, Tweedy Bird.”

“Anyway,” Petey pressed on before Jon could do much more than nod his understanding.  “He’s trying to track me down, so I disappeared for a while, but Jon found me.”  She shrugged and reached for Jon’s hand.  “Turns out we love each other.” 

Jon noticed how she’d left out the blackmail, abuse, her family, her research and pretty much everything that had nothing to do with a ‘happily ever after’.

Either she doesn’t trust Gavin that much or she’s decided to buy into the fairytale like every other woman.

He acknowledged that there was a third possibility – she was tired of thinking about it and would rather focus on happiness instead. She was entitled.

“We’re getting married Saturday, in New Jersey.”

“Saturday?!”  Gavin’s perfectly groomed eyebrows winged upward.  “Jesus, Dollface, what’s the hurry?  Are you pregnant?”

She turned to Jon with a wry twist of her lips.  “Could you knock me up so that we have a different answer to this question?  Our current one is getting boring in its repetitiveness.”

The muscles in his lower abdomen tightened.  He knew she was kidding, but….

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”  He turned to Gavin.  “Could you give us a minute?  We’re just gonna conceive here on your couch and then we can all finish our chat.”

Laughter tumbled out of Jon’s mouth at Gavin’s slack jawed expression.  Petey was poking at his ribs in annoyance, but Jon didn’t care.  It was worth it to see the flamboyant man speechless, even for a minute.  “Well shut my mouth and call me a venus flytrap,” Gavin purred once he’d recovered his wits.  “The man’s hot and has a smart mouth.  Perfection, thy name is Jon Bon Jovi.”

“Back off, Gavin,” Petey warned teasingly before turning to her fiancé.  “And when did you become incorrigible?”

“Since I’m trying to keep up with the two of your smart asses.  Just treadin’ water here, Sugar.”

She resolutely turned her head away from him, but he could see her biting back a grin before steering the conversation back down the right road.  “Soooo…  Gavin.  As I was saying, we’re getting married on Saturday and I could really use some help picking out a wedding dress.  I wondered if you would be up for the challenge?”

“Oh my God!  I’m your maid of honor!”  He fanned himself, hands fluttering as rapidly as a hummingbird’s wings while his eyes blinked somewhere around half that speed.  Jon wasn’t sure but he thought the guy might be getting weepy.

Petey chuckled delightedly.  “I guess you are.”  She turned to Jon.  “Gavin’s going to be my maid of honor.  That okay with you?”

Jon felt his smile slip a notch.  “As long as he doesn’t show too much cleavage in the dress, sure.”  He wouldn’t have a best man, but he supposed that didn’t matter. 

He listened with no more than half an ear as the two of them chattered about black wedding dresses, skulls and hair color, thinking that it was nice that someone shared her excitement.  Everybody needed a friend.