128 - Sounds of Silence

Okay, you didn't get a Wednesday post, but since I screwed up by posting a day early, I will give you an extra one so that the wait until Saturday isn't so long.  :)

The hired car carrying Tony and Richie was winding its way through the city.  All of the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, along with a distinct strain of un-pleasantries, such as what they would like to do to Daniel Lewis and how everyone was coping with him skulking around. 

When they had exhausted their fairly extensive repertoire of creative ways to kill a man – they may both reside in California, but they were still from Jersey – Tony finally broached the elephant in the car.  “Okay, I waited for you to offer, but you didn’t, so I’m gonna ask.  Where’s Denny?”

It was the question Richie had been dreading.  Seeing that Tony was the one who’d basically ordered him to bring her, he’d known the other man would eventually ask.   

“In California.”

He found himself on the receiving end of a very Bongiovi look. The brothers didn’t look that much alike, but when they were annoyed he could see the family resemblance without having to squint.

“Yeah, I might not be a rocket scientist, but I figured that part.”  That tone of voice was pretty familiar too.  “Why is she in California and not here with you?  I thought you were gonna bring her?”

I thought so too.  Then I kissed her.

“She had other obligations.”

It wasn’t entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.  He and Tony didn’t have a secret-sharing, soul-baring kind of relationship, holding much closer to being friendly as opposed to being real friends.  This shopping venture, in and of itself, was blazing a new trail for them.  The unfamiliarity of the territory was what made Richie choose vagueness over the naked truth, but it did beg another question.

“Why did you suggest it in the first place?”

Tony shrugged.  “I dunno.  You probably know better than I do how it is when you’re in love.  You think everybody should be.”

“But why me and Denny?  Don’t tell me it’s obvious that we’re soul mates or something?”

“Yo, man.  Don’t make me get all touch-feely and shit,” Tony implored with disgusted frown.  “You and Jon fought about Petey.  You’ve been single a while.  Denny looks at you like she likes you, so I thought why not?  A good woman makes the world a better place.  End of story.”

Well, I’ll be damned.

“You were trying to play matchmaker?”  The idea was pretty amusing.  “D’s really done a number on you, hasn’t she?” Richie observed slyly.  “I mean, I knew you wanted to marry her, but I never thought I’d see the day that TBJ turned into a giant matchmaking marshmallow.  They’re gonna take away your Harleys if you let that shit get out, man.”  He guffawed and clapped Tony on the back. 

“Go to hell,” Jon’s brother told him concisely, moving as far to the other side of the car as he could. “And what are you blowin’ about anyway?  I’ve seen you wrapped around more women’s little fingers than I can count.”

Poking a finger into his own chest, Richie crowed, “Hey, I’m not denying it, but I’m the sensitive one.  They expect it outta me!  You’re the strong, silent, bad-ass, refusing to be tamed by any woman.”

“Maybe I was just waiting to appreciate the one that was there all along.  Take a lesson, dumbass.”

Tony shook his head with complete disgust and playfully tapped Richie in the back of the head, effectively knocking the smile from the guitarist's face.  Had Denny’s attraction been that obvious?  To everyone but him?  “That what you think I’ve done?  Not appreciate her?”

Among midday Fifth Avenue traffic insanity, the car rolled to a stop in front of Tiffany & Co.  There were other stores closer to Jersey, but they’d chosen this one, knowing that the flagship store would have the widest selection. 

Tony reached for the door handle with a grin suitable to a tomcat with a mouth full of canary feathers.  “Not my place to say.  Now get your sensitive ass in gear.  I’ve got a woman with a naked finger, and I wanna fix that, pronto.”

Brown eyes grew troubled, and he silently slid out of the vehicle behind his ‘adopted’ little brother.  Was he screwing this up by going for it?  Or by letting it pass by?  His head hadn’t been this messed up since the last time he’d pledged his sobriety.

☠ ☢ ☠

“That’s my favorite,” Petey enthused, pointing to the thumbnail image on the screen.  Joel clicked to increase the size to full-screen.  She wryly acknowledged that it was not normal to be happy about seeing a close-up of her own butt on a computer monitor.  Most women would be justifiably mortified, but this wasn’t bad.  At all.  It was nearly possible to pretend it wasn’t her.

The perspective of this particular shot was from a point somewhere below her left hip, looking across the swell of her rump.  The edges of it were purposefully blurred and it revealed nothing beyond her bottom and lower back - and bits of a pink satin coverlet.  

Petey was posed on her stomach wearing only the black thong, and the imp tail had been artfully swirled back around so that the heart-shaped tip was showcased on her right, lily-white buttock.  “To Thine Own Self Be True” was clearly visible above the leather triangle of the thong, and her left hand – pink diamond shining in all its glory – was resting against her left buttock, hot pink nails lightly gripping the flesh.

It’s all of me in one single photograph.  Completely me.

“I’m not an artiste, but that one speaks to me.”  She laughed lightly, dismissing the fact that even she found the picture kind of hot.  “Which is weird, since all women hate their butts.”

“Dollface, your ass is almost as good as your boyfriend’s ,” Gavin staunchly informed her.  “If you let him knock you up, you would have the most ass-tastic children in the entire universe.”

The crimson stain flooded its way into Petey’s cheeks, and she glared at him from the corner of her eye.  “Gavin.  Enough with the ass commentary already, okay?”

Gavin hummed tactfully while Joel steered them back to the business at hand.  “The shot has fabulous composition, if I do say so.  Any chance of you signin’ a release on that one?  I’d like to use it in my portfolio.”

“Yeah, sure.”  Petey bent forward in the chair, pulling awkwardly at her skirt until it covered her to her ankles.  It hadn’t been too bad while it was happening, because Gavin had been there with his distracting catty comments, and Joel had been very encouraging, but now?  It felt a bit icky to be looking at herself in a seductive light while sitting between two other men, especially when her ass was being so clinically evaluated.

It’s over and Jon will love it.  Move on.

Checking the time on the computer screen, Petey saw that the whole shoot had only taken about ninety minutes, even with the costume change.  Happily, she realized that she should be able to make it home by three-thirty. 

Crap.  I haven’t checked my phone.  I wonder how Jon’s appointment went?

She turned to Joel, suddenly eager to finish everything up.  “So you can have an album with proofs of all the poses I’ve chosen and a CD with everything on it by tomorrow afternoon?  I realize it’s a rush thing, but I’m willing to compensate you for the inconvenience.”

“Piece of cake,” Joel affirmed, rolling back from the computer desk.  “The deposit check you’ve given me covers most of the cost , so I’ll have a courier deliver it around four tomorrow afternoon and send an invoice for the rest.  That work for you?”

Rummaging in her bag for the phone, she started to nod, then paused.  “The package will be wrapped up, won’t it?  No one will be able to look at the pictures without my knowing?”

“I’ll have Crystal wrap it up for ya with a bow and everything if ya want.” 

The set of her shoulders relaxed noticeably and she stood, sidling toward the exit and flicking the phone screen to life.  Two texts and a missed call – all from Jon.   The chicken salad she’d eaten earlier lurched in her stomach.  

“Perfect,” she agreed distractedly.  “Preferably in black, if that’s possible.  Ask the courier to leave the package with the doorman, and I’ll tell him when to expect the delivery.  I don’t want my fiancé to get his hands on it too soon.”

Phone clutched tightly in hand, she rushed through her thanks and goodbyes before moving swiftly out the door.  Poor Gavin was left to scurry after her, stopping at the elevator slightly breathless. 

“I would ask if your panties were on fire, but I was looking at them all afternoon so I know they’re not.  What gives, Dollface?  Why are you suddenly in a hurry?”

Eyes affixed to the small window of glass in her hand, Petey didn’t hear him. 

[1:41 PM]JON: Call me when you get done.

[2:12 PM]JON: Finished yet?

Then a missed call at two forty-four, but no voicemail.

“Jon had a doctor’s appointment,” she mumbled, anxiously tapping Jon’s number on the screen.  He picked up on the first ring, just about the same time that the elevator whisked its doors open.

“What’s wrong?” she asked without preamble, stepping into the car.  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer, but I was in the middle of my appointment.  I’m on my way home.”

Gavin silently joined her, pressing the button for the ground floor while she tried to piece together what Jon was saying. 

“..........fast....die....... hospital..........blood….…..… Richie……………Tony…….”

“What?  Say it again!”  She pulled the phone away from her ear, checking to see fi the call was still connected.  “Dammit, there’s no reception in this elevator.  Jon?  Jon!”

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,”  

“What’s the matter, Dollface?”  Gavin was unnaturally subdued, taking his cue from Petey’s agitation.

“…it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness,”

“I don’t know,” she snapped irritably.  “I heard hospital and dying and the damn phone cut out.”  Petey glared at the slow moving numbers on the panel.  “Move, dammit.  Move!”

The heavy doors had no more cracked when she forced herself through them, pushing into the lobby. 

Five bars.

She hit Jon’s number again, but it kicked immediately over to voicemail.

“…it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way-”

She tapped it again with the same result. 

“Dammit!” 

Petey latched onto Gavin’s arm and pulled him out onto the street.  The car was parked just a bit down the street, and Rocco hopped out as soon as he got his first glimpse of them.

“Rocco!  Who’s with Jon?”

The typically stoic man was taken slightly aback by her hyperanxiety.  “I…  Greg.  Greg’s with him.”

“Then call Greg.  Now!”