115 - Lay It on the Line

“So that’s it,” Richie concluded, huddled over the table, elbows resting on the edges.  The half-empty glass of Diet Coke dangled from his fingertips and the shards of ice that were still intact tinkled delicately against the sides.   “Desperation had me soliciting a visitor last night – huge mistake, just like it always is – and here I am.   Depressed and slightly screwed up.  Got any words of wisdom for me, Denny?”

Denise Salazar’s usually smiling face wasn’t smiling, and the open brown eyes that usually sparked with fire when he’d done something stupid wouldn’t meet his.  She was engrossed with her iPhone and Filofax.

“Get a good night’s sleep so you don’t look haggard for the guest appearance tomorrow.”  She signaled the waitress for their check and tapped impatiently on her watch, indicating that they were in a hurry.

“That’s it?”  He was unaccountably disappointed. 

She’d been his friend for more than seventeen years, his personal assistant for six, and his Yoda for the last two.  Richie couldn’t function without her – literally.  If it weren’t for Denny, he would never make it to his appointments and meetings.  Hell, some days he wouldn’t get out of bed without her wake-up call.  She was privy to more of his personal life than anyone since the divorce, being one of the few people he felt comfortable talking openly with.  If she ever decided to write a tell-all book, he’d be screwed.

“No.”  Now she looked at him, her mouth in a disapproving line.  “You’re going to Jersey.  I’ll text you the flight details, but plan to leave on Thursday.  Call Tony, apologize, tell him you’re going to the wedding and that you’ll help him pick out Dorothea’s ring.  If you don’t want to stay after the ceremony, I’ll make sure you have an evening flight back.  Otherwise, I’ll arrange for you to fly out on Sunday so you can be home in time to drop Ava at school on Monday.”

Damn.

That’s what he got for asking.

“Why are you acting like I’m being an idiot?”

“Because you are.”  She snatched the black leather folder that the server had automatically placed at Richie’s elbow and verified that the total was correct before opening her wallet.  With an efficiency borne of experience, she extracted the American Express card reserved for his business expenses, tucked it into the folder and waved it at the young brunette.

“O-kayyy.  But you’re usually much nicer about it than this.”

“That’s because you’re not usually this much of an idiot,” she noted off-handedly.  “Don’t forget to take your Martin.  You like its versatility when you’re playing off the cuff, and I assume you haven’t yet chosen a song to honor the couple.  I’ll remind you again just before you leave.”

“Denny.  Slow the fuck down, babe,” he laughingly ordered her.  Yes, she organized his life to the teeth, but this was extreme even for her.  “Why are you so wound up?  And why are you in such a hellfire hurry?”

She had just scratched her signature hurriedly across the bottom of the credit card slip and tossed it back in the folder, allowing the black leather to drop unceremoniously to the table.  The customer copy found its way into the designated Filofax slot.  It would later make its way into the proper folder in his office and then to the accountant.  Denny had a system.

“We had business to discuss, we discussed and I’m going.  I have other things to do besides hold your hand.”

Now that was completely out of character for Denny.  Yes, she stayed busy.  She was somewhere in her mid-forties and a divorced mom of three active kids.  They kept her super-busy when Richie didn’t,  but she handled it all effortlessly – without making him feel like an imposition.

Until today, anyway.

When she started to rise, he leaned across the table to prevent her departure.  Long, callused guitarists’ fingers circled firmly around the fine bones of her wrist, pinning it to the table and refusing to let go.

“Sit right there.”  He didn’t threaten, he didn’t yell, he didn’t get angry – none of those things.  But he expected her complete cooperation.  “I want to know what happened in the last ten minutes to turn you into…  somebody that’s not you.  Talk to me, Den.”

“This is me,” she huffed, but remained seated.  The only change in position she made was to lean forward before she peered earnestly into his eyes. “This is the me who is very, very weary of watching you beat your head against the same brick wall time after time.  You’ve known this Petey woman – what?  - a hot second and you’re jealous that she’s not hooking up with you?  She’s right.  You don’t even know her!  And for that jealousy, you’re punishing the man who has been by your side since the beginning?  Who has pulled your fat out of the fire and covered your backside without question countless times?  Who loves you more than he loves his own brothers?  And for that jealousy, you’re soliciting and encouraging the woman who has nothing to offer you but an empty orifice to pour your frustration into?”

Richie’s fingers went lax, and he withdrew his hand.  It felt as though he’d been mauled by his pet kitten.  The Denise Salazar he knew was sweet and caring, not the incensed lunch companion who was ready to launch herself across the table.

She dropped her newly freed hand into her lap with a defeated sigh, the starch seeping out of her sails.  “Stop looking for something that’s right in front of your face, Richie.  Stop looking for something that’s already yours if you’d only reach out and take it.”

What was she talking about?  What did she think he was looking for?  Better yet, what was he looking for?

“Denny, babe, I don’t know what you mean.”

With a sad shake of her head, she gracefully glided out of her chair, tucking the Filofax under her arm and hoisting the oversized black bag onto her shoulder.  “I’m painfully aware of that.”  She bent to brush her lips across his cheek and drew a deliberate breath.  He thought she was going to say something more, but she didn’t.  She merely straightened, gave a friendly pat to his shoulder and departed with a quiet, “I’ll text you later.  Call if you need something.”

It was the only time he could recall saying goodbye to Denny and feeling worse than when they’d said hello.

☠ ☢ ☠

Tony turned up the radio and tapped his thumb against the steering wheel, keeping time with the Black Sabbath classic.  He was pleased with what had been accomplished at the studio today.  FedEx had delivered as promised, and kept him moving in the right direction.  Now he just had to track down that one box in his mom’s attic.  If he could find it, he might get this all tied up tomorrow. 

That’s what he chose to dwell on – where that box might be tucked away.  It was better than worrying about whether or not things were going to be weird with his parents. Yes, his mother had apologized, but he had yet to see the proof of her sincerity.  He hadn't talked to Pop.  Did he even realize he'd let Tony down by not saying something to his wife?

His worry was, thankfully, shoved to the back burner when his phone rang.  Tony bumped the stereo’s volume down a couple of notches and hit the button to answer it while taking the correct exit off the Jersey Turnpike.

“Yo.”

“Hey, man.”

Richie’s voice wasn’t one he expected to hear for quite a while yet.  He’d thought Richie would be scarce until after the wedding, since his brother’s best friend was ditching it and all.

“Rich.  What’s up?”  He was still kinda pissed, and didn’t feel like making polite conversation.

“I called to apologize.”

Interesting turn of events.  “Yeah?  How come?”

“Well…  I was talking to Denny and she may have suggested that I was being an idiot.”

“She’s only like the tenth person to tell you that, jackass.  It finally sink in this time?  Or was the difference in who was tellin’ ya?”

From Tony’s personal observations, Richie leaned on his assistant a lot more than he realized.  While they were on the road, he talked to her several times a day, even asking her to join them at various stops for one reason or another.  She’d even brought her kids along a couple of times, if he remembered right, which was cool since Rich had a soft spot for kids.

Tony wouldn’t be surprised if they were to hook up at some point.  Denise was a very together lady who liked to keep an air of detachment, but he’d caught her looking at Richie a couple of different times – and she was anything but detached.

“I’m coming for the wedding, and Denny has me scheduled to fly in Thursday.  Still want another set of eyes to check out rings?”

It was common knowledge that he wasn’t always on the best terms with his older brother, but right now they were in a good place and having his back took priority over Tony worrying about his own shit.  “Does Jon know you’re coming?  You’re not gonna do some stupid shit and surprise him, are you?  Because if you pull that, I wouldn’t blame him if he punched you in the face.”

The laughter ringing in his ears was familiar, easy and completely unoffended.  Richie was back.  Tony had no idea where he’d been, but he was back now.

“I haven’t called him yet, but I will here in a minute,” Richie promised.  “So we on for Thursday?”

Pulling into the driveway at his parents’ house, he considered the offer.  He’d just about decided what he wanted to get for Dorothea, but a second opinion couldn’t hurt.  “Yeah.  Swing by the studio and pick me up.  You’ll have a driver right?”  If the big goon was gonna come, Tony may as well make the most of it.  It was a whole lot easier than driving into the city and finding a parking space anywhere near Tiffany’s.

“Yeah.  I’ll send you my flight time so you know when to expect me.”

“Cool.  Talk to you in a coupla days then.”

The phone was coming away from his ear, when Richie spoke again.  “Hey Tone?  I’m really glad for you and D.  You’re good people.  Both of you deserve some happiness, and I'm glad you found it."

Tony felt that little kick of sentimentality in his chest and groaned.  Dammit, he hated this sappy stuff that Richie seemed to thrive on.

Grunting, he figured what the hell?  Maybe because he was happy, he wanted the rest of the world to be.  It was the only reason he could imagine for throwing out, “You should bring Denny with you, man.  Don’t ask me why and don’t think it to death.  Just bring her.”

With that, he tapped the screen to cut off the call and reconnected the phone to the holster on his belt.  It had been a good day so far. A very good day.

Let’s hope my luck holds out, he thought, stepping from the Durango.  If it were going to plummet down the toilet at any point, this would be the most likely spot.