144 - Stay Out of Trouble

“According to police reports, the name of the shooter in last evening’s incident at Angelina’s Ristorante is Anthony Michael Bongiovi, brother of rock star Jon Bon Jovi.   It is still unclear at this time what the nature of the altercation was, or how Anthony came to be in possession of a weapon at the time.  The name of the victim still has not been released.”

“Fucking tremendous,” Tony muttered.  “They’re making me sound like a gang-banger going around and popping a cap in somebody’s ass for fun.”

“You know better than to listen to that,” was Dorothea’s bland statement from the sink.  Tony was finishing his coffee, and she was loading the dishwasher.  The kids had inhaled breakfast and gone about their lives in the various corners of the house.

“No, actually, I don’t.”  Shoving back from the table, he took his empty mug to the sink and rinsed it out.  “I’m not the one who lives in the media’s fish tank, that’s my brother.  Are you getting us confused?”

Eyebrows flew into her brow with shock before slamming down over angry eyes, and she very slowly and very deliberately pivoted to face him.  Droplets of water from her wet hands spattered across his shirt when she slung them at him.  “What did you just say to me?”

Smooth move, Einstein. Of all people, she doesn’t deserve your frustration.

“That’s not the way I meant it.” 

She snatched her hand away before he could grab hold of it.  “I get that this is stressful, but you’ve been around this long enough to know how it plays.  Don’t start taking jabs at me.  I know exactly which Bongiovi was in my bed last night.”

And he had been.  All night.  Just after four this morning, when he tried to sneak away  to the guest room, she’d sleepily asked him to stay.

“What about the kids?”

“I’m not an abusive crack whore,” she informed him muzzily.  “I’m doing my part to be a responsible mother.   If sleeping with my fiancé scars them beyond repair, Jon can pay for therapy.”

He had burrowed back into the bed and pulled her close, chuckling into her hair.  “Sounds like a plan, Babes.”

Tony’s phone pealed from where it lay on the table before Dorothea could lay into him any further, or before he got the chance to crawl out of the hole he had so effortlessly dug.  It was Jon’s ring.  No doubt something about the flurry of news blurbs.

“It’s Jonny,” he said apologetically, snagging the phone and then leaning back to capture her wrist.  “Don’t go anywhere yet.  Please.”

Hair swinging with the indifferent shake of her head , she extracted her hand and went back to loading the dishwasher. 

“Yeah, bro?” Tony sighed into the phone.

“Sounds like you’ve been watching the news.”

“Yeah.”

“Fun times,” was Jon’s sarcastic reply.  “Calling for two things… Well, three.  One, the wedding has been moved back a day.  We’re getting married tomorrow afternoon instead, so tell Dottie there won’t be caterers invading the house today.”

“Okay.”

“Two, Petey wants to go ahead with the bachelor and bachelorette parties if you guys are cool with it.”

Tony glanced warily at Dorothea.  “Yeah, I’m cool.  I’ll check with Dorothea and see if she still wants to do the bachelorette thing though.”

Her response was to arch one disdainful eyebrow.  She would be more receptive once he’d smoothed things over.

“And three,” his brother went on, completely unaware of the tiff he was interrupting.  “Petey and I have talked about it.  We’re going to make a statement to the press this afternoon.  Neither one of us has any desire to watch this shit leak out one bit at a time while everybody builds it into some big organized crime thing.”

“Amen to that.”

“So, since you’re in the thick of it and they’re throwing your name around, if you wanna be there...”

“Are you going to answer a bunch of questions after?”

“Hell, no.”  His brother declared adamantly.  “A prepared statement and that’s it.”

“I have to think about that, but tell me where and when just in case.”

After providing the information, Jon went on to ask, “Can you and Rich work out the bachelor party details and let me know?  Petey and I have about another dozen calls to make.”

“Yeah, sure.  I’ll give him a call.”

“Thanks, Tone.  For everything.” 

Petey piped in from the background, “I know this is sudden, but I love you, Tony!”

Tony grinned.  Who would think the little Mistress of the Dark would have fully wormed her way into their fold in such a short time?  This was what it was all about.  Screw the press.  They could say whatever they wanted as long as all the assorted family members were safe.  “Yeah, I love you, too.”  What the hell?  “Both of you.”

Jon’s, “Yeah,” was gruff.  “See you later, man.”

“Later.”  He’d barely depressed the right spot on the screen before he tossed the phone aside and sidled up to Dorothea, who had moved on to wiping the countertops.  Curling an arm around her waist, he hauled in her in close and bent to nose in her hair. “Babes, I’m sorry for being a dick.”

“You should be.  Now kiss me and we’ll call it done,” she haughtily demanded, offering her pursed lips.  When he obliged, she smiled with satisfaction.  “What did Jon want?”

“Bachelor and bachelorette party stuff.  That, and he and Petey are doing a press statement this afternoon and asked if I wanted to be there.”

“Are you going to?”

Did he let big Brother handle it all, or did he make his face present?  He was really a background guy, and preferred to keep it that way.  “I don’t really want to, but I don’t want anybody thinking I’m ashamed of what I did.  What do you think?” 

She went back to wiping the island, not looking at him.  “That’s your decision to make.”

“But I’m asking your opinion.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, folding the dishcloth and hanging it over the sink.  “My opinion is that you should go.”

“And…?”

“And nothing.  Jon’s name is the one drawing attention to this, but you and Petey are the ones who are facing legal repercussions.  Even if you don’t say anything, it’s just like you said, you did nothing to be ashamed of.  People should know that you’re not.”

“Okay.  Will you go with me?”  He fully expected her to say no.  Without a doubt.  But he wanted to make sure she knew he wanted her at his side.

She pushed a hand through her hair, sighing.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.  It will just start a whole other tangent for them to feed on.  Idiots will probably have me in a three-way with Petey and Jon rather than engaged to you.”

“Okay,” he repeated, closing in to brush her mouth with a light kiss.  Tony tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with the rest of its friends.  There was no need to belabor the point.  “Just letting you know you were wanted.  Speaking of which, Petey wants to go ahead with the Last Night of Freedom parties.  Are you still in for the bachelorette gig?”

Her hesitation was easily read.  She didn’t want to, but she was going to anyway.  Tony knew she would, because it was the right thing to do. 

“Sure.”

“There’s nobody like you in the world, Dorothea.”  Another quick kiss and he slid away, telling her, “I need to call Rich about the guys’ party.”

☠ ☢ ☠

“Yeah?” Richie’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat.  It had been a long-ass night.  By the grace of God, he’d stayed away from the honor bar, but a long night with nothing but his guitar and his thoughts had given him a pity-hangover.

“Get your lazy ass up,” Tony chortled in his ear.  “You’re not on the left coast today, California boy.”

“Fuck you, little brother.”  His eyes were gritty and he dug at them, trying to get what felt like sand out of them.  “What the hell do you want?”

“Jon hasn’t called you?”

He might have.  Richie could be a heavy sleeper sometimes.  “I dunno.  I just woke up.  Maybe.”

“Well, the wedding’s not ‘til tomorrow and Petey says the traditional night-before parties are still on.  You and I are supposed to figure out the details for the guys.”

Details. 

“Yeah.  Okay.  Still wanna do the Lanes?”  The carpet tickled his bare feet as he slowly worked out the kinks and moved around the bedroom.  He flicked his laptop to life to see if there were any urgent emails.  Nothing from Denny.

“Unless you’ve got something better.” 

A traditional bachelor party with a stripper was sounding a whole lot better than a family bowling trip to the Lanes in Richie’s mind.  He needed to get laid. 

“I’ll have…”  He’d almost volunteered Denny to make the arrangements, but thought better of it, and mentally recruited Jon’s PA instead.  “…Monique make a coupla calls and see what she can set up.  You take Obie, Southside & Matty.  I got Dave and Teek.”

“You take Southside, I’ll get Petey’s brother.”

Richie had forgotten about him.  And the Senator.  Between the Senator and Jon’s kids, his opportunity to troll for a little feminine company was effectively nixed, and that sucked ass.  He could use the diversion of blowing off a little steam.  For once, he wished he had a regular east coast hook up.  Somebody tall, blonde and leggy.  Somebody like…

“Sure, sure.  No problem.”  He cleared his throat and took a shot.  “Hey Tony, don’t you have some Amazon blonde on your crew?  I think I met her at the Christmas thing.  Cindy?  Candy?”

“Candace,” Jon’s brother supplied hesitantly.  “Why?”

Act like it’s no big deal.

“Think she’d wanna go to a wedding with me?”

“What the..? No.  Nuh-uh.”  Tony’s voice went hard.  “What the hell happened to Denny that you need to make a move on Candace?  I thought she was coming to the wedding?”

Not going there.

“Denny’s in California living her own single life.  As my assistant.” Richie’s voice had its own edge. 

Soft cursing came over the line.  “And you can’t find somebody else to hook up with besides my crew?”

“You know what, never mind.  Forget I asked.  I’ll let you know about the plans as soon as Monique calls me back.  Later, man.”

“Hold up a damn minute,” Tony swore with a gusty sigh.  “Yes.  I’m pretty sure Candace would give her right arm to go to a wedding with you.  You want I should give her your number?”

“Why not just give me hers?”  He knew it was a shot in the dark, but it would give him more time to consider the wisdom of what he was doing.  Sex could be good with anybody.  He’d made it good with anybody.  But would this chick turn into a clinging vine afteward?

“No, motherfucker.  We went through this with Petey.  I can pass along your number if ya want, but that’s it.”

Could this woman give him anything he couldn’t get at his own hand?  Was she worth the hassle? 

Probably not, but she’ll keep my mouth and hands out of the honor bar.

“Yeah, pass it along.  Thanks, Tony.”

Next post: Thursday, August 2nd

143 - Breaking News

Richie was restless.  He tossed and turned, but the luxurious bedding of the Four Seasons did nothing to make him comfortable.  The tight lump that had been in the center of his chest since Angelina’s wasn’t going away. 

When he closed his eyes, he saw nothing but Tony’s grim resolve and Petey’s strained features. He heard nothing but the gunshot that echoed through the restaurant and the screams of Dot and the mothers when Jon called out to Petey.  Felt nothing but mounting guilt.

I should have made them work their differences out in the damn car.  Then they wouldn’t have been alone in that hallway.   

The other side of his brain wanted to argue the point.

If not tonight, then it would have been some other night.  He was going to make a move eventually.

Fine.  He could make himself buy into that, but he still should have been there, doing something.  Richie had done nothing but gawk at his best friend, just like the rest of them.  The weight of his inaction made up a sizable chunk of the lump in his chest, and rubbing a hard fist against his sternum did nothing to relieve the ache.

Digging his head into the pillow with a frustrated grunt, he picked up his phone and checked the time.  It was nearly midnight. 

It’s only nine at home.

The time-zone calculations were automatic and second nature to him, but this time it was in vain.  Who would he call?  His sex buddy was out of the question.  Ava might distract him, but he didn’t want to infect her with his cloud of gloom.  Heather?  No.  Hell, no. Even if he might’ve considered it at some point, it was time to step beyond that.

You know who you want to call.

Using thumb and forefinger, Richie scrunched up his face and rubbed harshly at his eyes.  He knew he shouldn’t.  They weren’t supposed to talk until he got back, but he didn’t want to talk about them.  He just wanted to talk.

The phone screen flared to life under his touch, and the correct sequence of buttons was tapped before he could change his mind.  It rang once.  Then again.

“Hello?”

Denny’s voice was loud to be heard above the clamoring of a crowd in the background.  She was evidently out somewhere.  If it weren’t for the caller ID he probably would’ve hung up.

“Hey, darlin’.”  His uneasiness was paved away beneath his typical relaxed drawl – or that had been the plan. 

“Richie, what’s wrong?”

Acting had never been his forte.

“Nothing.  Nothing’s wrong.  Did I catch you at a bad time?” 

“Nooooo.  Not really.”  Which meant he had.  “Hold on.”  The scratching sound indicated that she was muffling the phone, but he could still hear the apologetic, “Could you excuse me for a minute?  It’s my boss.  I’ll be right back.”

Guess that fucking told you.

He was swamped with the overwhelming impulse to hang up and let a bottle of whiskey take a crack at the lump in his chest that had just grown harder.  After a full minute and still no Denny, he was on the verge of doing just that and leaving her to get on with her evening - one without interruptions from her boss.

It was at that instant the background noise went dead.  She must have finally found someplace quiet. 

“Now.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Where are you?”  It was none of his business, but the question bubbled so determinedly forth that he couldn’t have stopped it.

“In the ladies’ room.”

Playing dumb wasn’t her usual style.  Reading between the lines, he felt her reluctance to be the blunt, forthright woman that organized his life without visible effort.    She didn’t want to tell him where she was.

But I need to know.

“No, Denny.  Where are you? Are you at a club?  Did I interrupt a date?”

“Richie, don’t do this.  Yes, I’m having drinks with someone, but I’m here if you need me.”

His stomach squirmed and stirred a simmering anger.  A couple of days and she’d resumed her single lifestyle without a second thought.  Without the supposed ‘talk’ they were supposed to have about this thing between them.

“I see you have a lot of confidence in the direction that ‘talking’ was going to take our situation.”

“Stop right there,” she ordered in a threateningly low voice.  “If that’s why you called, then now is not the time.  Is that what you called for?”

How had the lump in his chest gotten bigger without pushing through his breastbone and sitting fully atop his body?  The liquor would’ve been the better choice.

“I originally called for a friend.  Now I’m just calling my assistant to make a change in travel plans.  Some shit has gone down here and I’m sticking around for a little while longer.  I’ll text in a couple of days so you can schedule my flight home.  Enjoy your evening, Denny.”

Funny, his mouth was moving and words were falling out, but it didn’t sound like his voice.  Didn’t feel like his voice either.  What difference did it make?  He was finished with his conversation, and it looked like he had one less item on his list of things to worry about. 

“Richie – “

“Den, don’t.”  She didn’t have to justify herself to him.  Not really.  He was the one who had pushed and then retreated.  Would’ve been nice to know what the hell she was thinking, but that could wait for…  a while.  “It’s all good.  I’ll catch you in a day or two.”

☠ ☢ ☠

Jon jerked awake, jolted by the punch of a dreamed Taser gun.  “Christ Almighty,” he muttered, wiping down his face from forehead to chin.  That shit yesterday had apparently made more of an impact than he’d been able to admit. 

The sky was streaked with the pale gray of an early winter’s morning, too early to get up, but not by much.  He rolled from his right side over to his left, reaching for Petey.  His eyes flew open at finding the bed empty.

Where the hell is she?

A yawn overcame him, popping on both sides of his jaw as he flung the covers aside.  There was a chill in the room, and it drove him to seek out his discarded pants from the night before.  Snapping the elastic low on his waist, he scratched his belly.  “Petey?”

She wasn’t in the bathroom, but he took the opportunity to make a morning pit stop before wandering downstairs.  A quick check of both the living room and kitchen came up empty.  “Petey!?”

“In here,” a distant voice panted, and he set out toward the far corner of the apartment.  He crossed into the at-home gym to find her on the treadmill.  Sweat was pouring down her back and her ponytail bobbed in time with her footsteps as she pounded on the treadmill.  The small television that he used to watch the news while he ran was turned to one of the news stations. “Morning.”

“Morning yourself.  Looks like you’ve been at it a while.”

She nodded, punching the button that would begin the cool down phase on the machine. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Unhappy lines creased Jon’s face.  She’d fallen asleep in his arms last night right after they’d made love.    He had foolishly thought it meant she found peace with yesterday’s events.

“Don’t frown,” she puffed, a little smile tugging at her lips.  “I woke up excited about today and tomorrow.  Lists started forming in my head for what needed to be done to accommodate the date change, but it was too early to start making phone calls.” The treadmill came to a halt, and she turned sideways on it. 

Jon moved to stand at the side of the running surface, the few inches it was elevated bringing Petey much closer to eye level than usual.  Factor in his bare feet and her tennis shoes and they were pretty well the same height.

“Yeah?”  He asked again, searching out her eyes for any sign of a cover up.

“Yeah.” 

Sweetly puckered lips were proffered and he fitted his palms to her hips before he touched them with his own, relieved that she seemed to be her normal self.

“I didn’t get around to saying it last night, but I’m proud of you Sugar.  I’m not bringing anything up, but I heard you reciting yesterday, so I know how freaked out you were, but you still kicked ass.”

Petey shook her head with denial and pulled away from him.  She opened her mouth to argue with him, saying, “I’m not – “  when the news announcer’s voice infiltrated their conversation.

“Shot through the heart?”  The plastic looking man asked from behind the news desk.  “We don’t know that to be true, but rocker Jon Bon Jovi was involved in a shooting incident yesterday evening.  The well-known musician and philanthropist was dining with family and friends at Angelina’s, a popular Staten Island eatery, when things went horribly awry.  Details are slow to be released, but we do know that one man is dead after the incident.  Stay tuned for more information as it becomes available.”

“Shit,” he sighed, turning back to her.  “Flying under the radar was too much to fuckin’ hope for, I guess.”

Petey’s eyes had gone hollow, the lively animation of a moment before sucked out.  An empty, baby blue shell left in its place.  “I guess it was.  We should probably keep Rocco and Greg for a little while longer, don’t you think?”

Using his grasp on her hips, he shook in hopes of rattling the vacant look away.  “Hey.  It’s all part of the life, Baby.   It’s inconvenient as hell sometimes, but this is my world.  Just hold your head high, smile and don’t say anything.  The fire dies if you don’t feed it.” 

Something occurred to him.  His life had been pretty low-key in the last few months, making this the first media shitstorm since they’d been together.   Granted, the unexpected intrusion wasn’t an all-the-time thing, but it wasn’t so unusual.  She would have to accept that. 

Jon squared his shoulders and met her eyes point-blank.  “This is what you’re signing on for as my wife.  Does it make you regret the decision?”

“No, dumbass,” she snapped.  “But can you give me ten seconds to acclimate?  You’re not the only one who has ever been in the public eye, but it’s been a while.  I need to find my sea legs again.  And, as much as this is about you right now, Rock Star, it’s going to be about me at some point.  My name and lifestyle change and all the speculation that goes with that.”

Her ‘endearment’ pissed him off.  For a minute he’d overlooked that she wasn’t – hadn’t always been – Petey.  She was Miss Patience Heinz, girl genius.  Of course she’d done the whole media thing, dozens of times over.

“I’m sorry.  I’m not a fucking genius like some people, and I tend to forget you’re anybody but who you are.” 

The annoyance seeped out of her features and her angrily knit eyebrows were exchanged for lines of remorse. 

“And you’re right,” he went on to agree, a little coolly.  “We should keep Rocco and Greg for a while longer, in case the press gets overzealous.”

Because they were going to have to ride this one out.  Part of the deal with their release last night was to stay local for the next several days.  That meant no escaping to a tropical hideaway, and it put their honeymoon on indefinite hold.   Likely until at least the first tour break in April.  Spring Break with the kids and then St. Maarten’s maybe.  Who knew?

“I’m sorry for being a bitch,” she sighed, draping her forearms over his bare shoulders and dropping her forehead against the left one.  “It just caught me off-guard.  I didn’t mean anything personal by it, I was just irritated.”

A gentle tug had her swaying fully into in his arms.  Jon ignored the cold, clammy t-shirt under his touch and instead focused on the warmth of her body radiating from beneath. 

She was alive.  They were alive.  After yesterday, he didn’t want to take that for granted.  It may not be as much fun, but this was just as much a part of living as the phenomenal sex they shared.

“S’ok.  Just means you’re one temper tantrum ahead of me.  I’ll catch up soon enough.”

Next post, Tuesday, July 31st. :o)

142 - Hero's Return

And the votes are in.  Update it is.  Hope you enjoy it...

[9:52 PM]BABES:  Why aren’t you home yet?

Because they didn’t give up grilling me like some damn thug until half an hour ago.

Tony sagged into the back seat of the hired car that had been graciously provided by his brother.  Transportation options had been limited since he had Dorothea take his vehicle to get herself and the kids home.

[9:53PM]TONY: On my way. Abt 10 min

[9:54 PM]BABES: K. I’ll be waiting in my room.

That brought a lopsided grin to his face.  That single text message wiped away the rigors of the police inquiry. 

Unfortunately, the grin was stolen with the next vibration of his phone.

“Hello?”

“Anthony,” his mother greeted him.  “You didn’t call.  What did the police say?  Are they putting you in jail?”

“No, Mom, they’re not putting me in jail.  They just asked a bunch of questions.”

“And what about Jonny and…  Petey? ” 

At least she’d used Petey’s name and not something impersonal like, ‘that woman’.

“They got released before I did.  Nobody’s in jail.”

“Oh.  That’s good.  Very good.”  With that, she went quiet.

“Mom?  Did you want something else?”

“Yes, actually.”  She cleared her throat.  “I wanted to say that I’m proud of you.  The way you stepped up for your brother…”  The thought dangled there, incomplete.

Incomplete or not, it was totally unexpected.  So unexpected that he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it.  He ended up choosing a neutral, “I just did what needed to be done.”

“I know.  You always do.”  A noisy sigh rattled over the line.  “Dorothea’s right, Anthony.  You’re a good man.  I’m not just proud of you, I’m proud of who you are.   And I am genuinely sorry about the way I’ve been behaving.”  There was a hesitation, and she offered a reluctant, “I am also…  pleased about your engagement.”

No, she clearly wasn’t.  But at least she was trying to pretend.  It was a start.

“Thanks.  That means a lot to me.”  And it did.  He might not be a young boy who needed his mother’s approval, but it was nice having it.  For everyone’s sake it was better if the whole family was on the same page.  “You gonna call Jon and Petey?” 

“I’ll probably call Jonny.  Why?  You said nobody was in jail.  Is something else wrong?”

It hadn’t been his intention to wig her out or send her mama bear instincts into hyper drive.  “No, nothing’s wrong.  Tonight you showed Petey that she’s part of the family.  I just thought it might be nice if you told her that, too.” 

The car pulled through the gates at the house on the Navesink.  The welcoming light in the upstairs window made it feel a whole lot like home.  “I gotta go.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Alright.  Tell Dorothea I said hello.”

“I will.  I love you, Mom.”

Choosing to end his call on the perfect note, he didn’t give her a chance to respond before disconnecting.  Tony felt more lighthearted than he had in ages.  He had the woman he loved and his family was of one accord again, and safe. 

As safe as they ever were with Jon’s crazy stalker fans driving up and down the road, anyway.

Tony reached across the front seat, shaking the driver’s hand and sliding a folded bill into his  hand.  “Thanks, man.  I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Mr. Bongiovi.  Have a good night.”

He was sure as hell gonna try.

☠ ☢ ☠

Dorothea set the Kindle aside and checked the clock again.  It had been fifteen minutes since his last text.  Where the hell was he? 

A frustrated hand tunneled through her hair.  Dorothea was feeling inexplicably antsy. 

After the shooting, Tony hadn’t been able to do anything more than give her a quick hug and pass over his car keys.  She was worried that…  Well, she didn’t really know why she was worried.  She just needed to see him and make sure there was no reason to be worried.

Stop being a damn mother hen.  He’s a grown and very capable man.  He’s not going to crumble to bits because he shot someone.  That’s apparently your job.

Huffing and cursing at herself, she threw back the heavy comforter and let her bare feet hit the floor.  There had to be something to occupy her mind until he got here.  She could brush her hair again, for the third time.  Or stare out the window some more.  Or –

The doorknob turned, and her head whipped around to find Tony stepping over the threshold.  He closed the door behind him and gave her one of those tender smiles that he saved just for her. 

He was okay.  No visible signs of a scarred psyche, no worry lines in his face.  His hair didn’t look like he’d been rubbing at it in frustration.  No.  He was just Tony.  Her Tony.

Dorothea’s eyes pricked with the threat of tears, but she stubbornly blinked them away.  Everything was fine.  There was no reason for that crap.

“You gonna stand there and stare at me all night, or are you gonna get over here and hug me?”

Narrowing her eyes in mock anger, she deliberately dragged her feet and took twice as long to cross the room as was necessary.  When she finally reached him, a wry smirk sat upon her face and she responded with a quiet, “Don’t screw with me, Bongiovi.”

He gave her the same wry grin and hauled her into his arms.  In the midst of his warm and possessive hug, he mumbled into her hair, “Funny, that’s just exactly what I was hoping to do.  Bongiovi.”

Eager arms slithered around his waist and she buried her over-wide grin in the crook of his neck.  Her heart swelled with pride, relief, and all the sappy things that a woman approach fifty years of age should be jaded to.

“We might get around to that.”  She touched her lips to the underside of his jaw in a light kiss.  “I want to hear what the police said.”

“Can’t that wait?” he protested, hands sliding down over the thin fabric of her sleep pants to cup her butt.  “I missed you tonight.”

With a chastising frown, she reached behind her to relocate his hands about six inches north, to her waist.  “No.  I don’t even know how the hell you ended up being in a position to shoot the man, when all you did was go out for a cigarette.  Talk.”

“At least give me a kiss first,” he bargained, nuzzling at her cheek.  “Did I mention that I missed you?”

Like she could resist that?  And, really, why would she want to? 

“Fine.  One kiss.”

Her arms snaked up until her hands were buried in the back of his downy soft hair.  Levering up on tiptoe, she was a breath away from tasting him when he drew back to give her a shrewd look.

“You know I can see straight through that indifferent bullshit.  Right?”

Dorothea bit her lip to keep from smiling.  He was one of the few who could see through her sometimes careful façade.  He got her, and it was a good feeling.

“If you see through it, then kiss me already.”

Loving fingers tangled into her hair and tugged so that her face angled up toward his.  “Okay, but only because you’re so sexy and irresistable,” he told her with a smile before settling his mouth over hers.

The now familiar weight of his lips stole away any lingering worry she may have had.  The gentle scrape of whiskers on her face sent shivers down her spine.  Her body remembered how those whiskers felt in other, more sensitive, places.

Sliding his tongue in with a quiet sound of pleasure, Tony filled her mouth with his presence and his taste.  The faint flavors of smoke, beer and coffee mixed with the familiar taste of him.  Dorothea’s fingers curled into a fist at the back of his head, bringing him closer. 

Heat zinged low into her belly and spread like wildfire.  She clung to his neck like a vine and tried her damnedest to fuse their bodies together by plastering herself against his chest.  He felt so good.  Solid and sturdy.  Capable. 

Using the grip on her hair to his advantage, he pulled back just far enough to distance their mouths.  Dorothea whimpered in protest at the separation, and the fingers that weren’t tied in her hair languidly traced her jawline. 

“Does this mean we can skip the talking for now?”

Legal matters before carnal matters.

“No.”  She blinked to clear her clouded eyes and sucked in a deep breath.  Damn him.  She was normally much better than that about getting distracted.  He had a tendency to make her lose her focus. “Details, man.  I need details.”

Quirking a skeptical eyebrow, he confirmed with another lazy stroke of her skin, “You sure?”

“Yes.”  She eased out of his grip and encouraged him to follow her over to the big bed.  “Take off your shoes, crawl in bed and talk to me.”

“Seriously?”  A slow head shake conveyed his disappointment.  “You want me to talk about that stuff in bed with you, before we have sex?  You’re a cruel woman Dorothea.”

“It’s horrible how you’re mistreated, I know.”  Plumping the pillows behind her back, she waited for him to shuck his socks and scoot his butt across the comforter until they were hip to hip.  She knew he wasn’t all that comfortable in his jeans, but if he weren’t wearing pants, that would be a huge deterrent to this conversation.

She aligned herself on his right side, tucking up under his arm and poking his ribs lightly.  “Go on.”

They stayed that way until she’d heard about the smoke and drink with Henry, and their stumbling into the exchange between Daniel, Petey and Jon.

“I knew I had to do something, so I kept as quiet as I could until I was close enough to pistol whip him if I decided to.”

A slow shudder rolled up her spin.  “When I came out and saw you with that gun…  I just knew you were going to kill him.”

“If you hadn’t come out…” His chin lightly rested on her crown.  “…I might have.  Hearing your voice made me consider what the consequences might be.  I pussed out because I didn’t wanna take a chance on screwing up my future with you.”

“You didn’t puss out,” she contradicted with a mild punch to his thigh.  “You saved Jon’s life – and Petey’s.  Don’t you know how amazed I am by you?  And so very, very proud?”

“Mm.”

Dorothea reared up and pulled his chin around, glaring into his eyes.  “Don’t you ‘Mm’ me, Anthony.  You didn’t kill him just because you could, like some damn hit man.  You lived up to your obligations as a brother, as a… well, husband, and as an uncle and step-father.  And you did it well.  Don’t ever doubt that.  Do you hear me?”

The way with which he tried to duck his head in embarrassment was priceless.  With all the Jersey-boy attitude and confidence he had, he still didn’t take compliments worth a damn.  “Yeah, I hear ya,” he grumbled.  “And it reminds me that Mom called on my way home.”

“Your mother?”  Her hackles rose instantly and she released his chin.  No wonder he wasn’t feeling good about this.  If Carol had…  So help her God… “What did she have to say?”

Head falling back against the headboard, Tony slid a hand up around her neck and gently manipulated the tense muscles there.  “A couple things.  Apologized again.  Said to tell you hello.  That she was proud of me and she’s… ‘pleased’ about our engagement.”

Miracles do still happen.

She wanted to be bitchy and speak the words aloud, but she refrained.  If Carol was sincerely trying to patch things up with her middle son, then Dorothea wouldn’t do anything to deter it.  “That’s nice.  You feeling good about it?”

“I am,” he thoughtfully confirmed.  “Things are finally falling into place for us and our family.”

It just went to reinforce what she’d already said – he was a responsible family man.  All the Bongiovi brothers were, but there was something about Tony’s determined tenacity.  She had a feeling that, if she were the one whose life was in danger, he wouldn’t have pulled his punches.  He would’ve killed the guy. 

The belief both frightened and comforted her. 

Swiveling her legs around, Dorothea shifted until she had a knee planted on each side of his hips and leaned her palms on his chest.  “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Blue eyes sparkled with pleasure.  The weight of his hands was heavy and warm on her hips when he drawled, “Maybe.  Wanna tell me again?”

“How about I just show you?”

141 - Aftermath

“Bastard shouldn’t have reached for that stun gun.  You’d be dead if you hadn’t grabbed it out from under him, Petey.”

In the wake of Daniel’s demise, Richie’s bland, yet authoritatively offered statement of self-defense echoed in Petey’s head along with Tico and David’s steadfast agreement.  And Tony’s, Henry’s, Jon’s…  Hell, everyone’s. 

Even Carol. 

The Bongiovi, Bon Jovi and Kerry-Heinz families had effectively circled the wagons around her, bringing Gavin along for the ride, and dared anyone to try and breach the perimeter.  Including the police.

The dozen or so adults who had witnessed the last few minutes of the incident had been asked to provide their account of what happened and each story was eerily identical:  Tony had maimed Daniel to save Jon’s life and, after dropping it, Daniel again reached for the stun gun.  Petey grabbed it away from him and used it an effort to disable him and escape.  Nobody knew the weapon would be deadly.  It was true that most of them hadn’t known, but still… Each and every one of them had made sure this was presented as unmistakable self-defense. 

The bachelor and bachelorette parties obviously cancelled, each trickled away to their respective homes after their interview was completed. 

Jon, Petey and Tony were targeted for more intensive questioning and were forced to stay behind.  They were grilled for what seemed like ages, and the questions had been repetitive.  Petey answered them all without any sign of emotion:  how did she know the victim, was she aware of the deadly nature of the weapon – she claimed total ignorance as to its modified state - why were they at Angelina’s that night.

Jon stayed by her side through it all, eventually proclaiming that enough was enough after each of them had spent a full hour answering countless questions. If the police needed anything further they knew how to find them.  Tony had stayed behind for a bit longer but, thanks to his text message to Jon, she knew he’d been released shortly after they had.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sugar?”  The mattress dipped and Jon slipped under the covers beside her, his hair still damp from the shower. 

As soon as the police were finished with them, he’d slid a protective arm around her waist and set his jaw stubbornly, flatly informing her that he didn’t give a shit that it was the eve of their wedding.   If she was dead set on not sleeping with him the night before they got married then they would reschedule the damn thing, because she was going home with him.  End of discussion.

The image of him slumped helplessly against the railing had prompted her not to argue.  Petey wanted him near tonight.  They would call everyone in the morning with news that they were moving the wedding to Sunday and see if they wanted to try the parties again tomorrow night. 

“Nothing.”  She rolled onto her side and draped an arm over his bare middle, feeling oddly despondent.  “Everything.”

Jon sighed and cuddled her into his side, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.  “I know, Baby.  It’s been a helluva day, but it’s over.  For good.”

Petey tipped her head, lightly planting her chin on his chest so she could look at him.  There was a burn mark on his neck and a bruise on his cheek bone to act as mementos of tonight’s festivities.  The bruise wasn’t pronounced but she could still see the smudging above his five o’clock shadow.  She knew her throat bore similar finger-sized smudging. 

“We don’t have to do this now, you know.  There is nothing hanging over our heads and compelling us to get married.”

“Don’t start,” he warned softly.

She nodded silently and nestled her cheek into the downy softness of chest hair.  His answer was what she’d hoped for and anticipated but, for her own peace of mind, the offer had to be made.   Petey mused thoughtfully,  “Tony saved our lives.  How do you repay something like that?  And your family and friends.  They just… rallied around me without any hesitation.”

He chuckled under his breath.  “You don’t repay shit like that.  I get how big of a deal it is, and hell yeah, Tone is a hero in my book, but that’s what you do for family.  That’s what we do for family, and you’re family now.  They all know and accept it.”

“Even your mother.”  The idea still freaked her out a little.  It was an one-hundred and eighty degree turn around from her complete disdain the day they met to her unwavering support tonight – the second time they’d met.  The abrupt turnaround was perplexing.

“My mom can be a bitch when she’s crossed, but she protects what’s hers.  I belong to her, and you belong to me.  That makes you hers by default. Now, granted…”  He combed his fingers through the raven locks pooled at the back of her neck, and she relaxed a bit at the gentle tugging on her scalp.  “…she may pick a fight with you nine days out of ten, but nobody outside the family is allowed to.”

“Mm.”

Jon wouldn’t say anything, but he was worried about her.  She’d been eerily detached since the whole thing happened - almost cold.  There was no sadness or anger in her eyes, her smiles were perfunctory and wooden, and her words were distant.  She didn’t even seem relieved that it was over. 

That psycho-babble shit and digging out somebody’s emotions was Sambora’s gig.  He didn’t have any idea how to go about saying that he was there for her without it coming off like a schmuck.  Or that he’d been he’d been scared shitless that he almost lost her tonight.  Maybe someday he could write a song about it, but for now…

“Baby?”  One hand slid up under her nightshirt – his favorite black t-shirt – while the other angled her chin toward him.  “Kiss me.”

That soft sigh?  The slow climb over his body until she straddled him?  The cotton candy cloud that engulfed him?   Those he knew what to do with. What he was unable to articulate with his mouth, he could show her with his body.

His roughened fingers scraped across the tender skin at her nape, and Jon used his grasp to urge her forward, gradually closing the distance between their mouths.  As she bent at the waist, her hands fisted the pillow on each side of his head and the inky curtain of her hair slithered frontward, tickling each of his cheeks as it framed their faces, creating an intimate cocoon.  One more miniscule tug and their lips meet on a sweet exhale.

Taking his time, Jon left the kiss chaste for long minutes.  Soft nibbles, the barest tip of tongue teasing at the seam of her lips.  Sensual assault and retreat.  Petey soon grew frustrated with his teasing and pressed her tongue into his mouth, where it was warmly met. Her tiny grunt of satisfaction had him encasing her ribs in the possessive circle of his arms as the engaging slide of tongues had him hardening in his lounge pants.

Disengaging their mouths, only to keep coming back for another taste, Jon cradled the back of her head to keep her close and gently rolled his hips under her bottom.  “I want you, Sugar.  Now.”

“Now,” she agreed in with a soft breathiness, offering a reciprocal roll of her hips as she straightened, sweeping the shirt over her head.  It left her gloriously naked except for a scrap of pink lace at her hips.

Jon’s hands instinctively reached up to cup the weight of her breasts, thumbs flicking over their tips as she arched into the sensation.  At least she wasn’t cold to his touch.  He kneaded, pinching and teasing her nipples for long minutes, just looking at her. 

His imp’s eyes were closed and cheeks flushed as she rubbed his forearms, making the hair on them stand up.  Her sweet little noises of arousal were feeding his own.  He needed more.  To be a part of her.

Splaying his palms wide, he skated them down her ribcage and gripped her waist, easing her off of him.  “Lemme get rid of my pants.”

Digging his feet into the mattress he bowed until the elastic waistband slid over his hips and he kicked the soft cotton away.  She took the same opportunity to strip and, by the time he was naked, she was kneeling at his side. 

Her eyes stared intently as he gave himself a quick stroke and used his thumb to swipe away the drop of moisture at the tip of his erection.  “Climb up here, Baby.”

That brief invitation had her body welcoming his as she sank onto him with a sigh of contentment.  He was pretty sure he made the same noise when he slid into the wet heat that now felt like an extension of him.

Sliding his hands under hers until they were palm to palm, Jon interlocked their fingers, tightly clasping their hands together and gave a gentle bump of his hips.  Petey’s chin dropped into her chest and she rocked forward to counter his move, lightly grinding into his pelvis with a moan.

He withdrew as much as the mattress would allow and lifted again.  She rocked forward and bore down.  They went back and forth like that several times before Jon squeezed her captive hands.

“Petey.  Look at me.”

Without disrupting their easy rhythm, she slowly lifted her head.  The pupils of her eyes were dilated wide, black eating away at the distinctive crystal blue.  Looking somewhere past the black and blue depths, to wherever it was she’d locked herself this evening, he locked her gaze, vowing softly, “I love you.” 

Her body stuttered in its rocking motion, lashes blinking rapidly as she found her pace again.

For his part, Jon never ceased to ease in and out of her giving body, nor did he let his eyes fall away.  He merely declared again, “I love you.”

It was like watching a wall crumble before him as emotion – finally – flooded her face and filled her eyes.  Pushing their hands up beside his head, she fell into his chest with a tiny sob and buried her face into his neck.

He stilled, gingerly disentangling their fingers and wrapping loving and – he hoped – comforting arms around her as the anguish spilled from her quaking body.  “Shhh…  Everything’s okay.”

“I…  I…”  Tears clogged her vocal cords and she had to start over.  “I… almost… lost you.  Again.”  Her shoulders trembled as she wept and he was helpless to do anything but hold her until the tears slowed. 

“But you didn’t,” he reminded her, stroking her hair.  “And I didn’t lose you. We’re alive, Baby.”  He slid his flagging erection slowly free from her body and burrowed in again.  “Feel how alive.” 

Jon pumped again, re-stoking his arousal, and took full control of the motion, lifting himself into her heat and retreating.  He did it again, hands roving over her back, and encouraged,  “Come on, Petey.  Live with me.”

After receiving him another couple of times, she hesitantly began meeting the thrusts with her own and, after matching his strides, brought her face to his.  Shed tears were transferred from her cheeks to his as she slanted her face and crushed their lips together with a searing need.  Petey’s tongue plunged into his mouth as desperately as his body was now plunging into hers. 

“I love you, Jon.  I love you.”  The rasping words filled his ears and made his heart beat faster.  

“Then prove it,” he growled softly as her sweat-slicked breasts glided over his sweaty chest.  “Come for me.  Let go and come for me.”

Her sweet cry shattered in his ear almost instantly and a surge of arrogant pride brought him, that quickly, to the edge.  Jon smashed her body against his, holding her firm as he took from her what he’d given to her – an infusion of life.

140 - Silent Lucidity

“Daniel, stop it!” Petey gasped, trying to get to a groaning Jon, but Daniel’s harsh fingers at her throat propelled her back into the wall.  She could only suck in a breath and hope that Greg or Rocco heard the commotion, but she had a sinking feeling of desolation. 

I do not like

green eggs and ham.

I do not like them,

Sam-I-am

They’d known she and Jon were having a ‘miscommunication’ when they came out of the dining room, so unless it was a more pronounced ruckus, there was every chance they would give them some space.  Dammit. “Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you, just stop!”

I do not like them

in a house.

I do not like them

with a mouse.

Jon was swiping a hand across the side of his neck, where the stun gun had grazed – merely grazed! – him, sending him to the floor.  There was now no doubt that Daniel’s little toy would wreak serious damage if it was held against flesh for more than a second.  The mental image of Jon lying on the penthouse floor from Daniel’s last visit was the only thing that kept her from screaming until Greg and Rocco were forced to come and investigate. 

That, and the look on Daniel’s face when he released his stranglehold on her.

I do not like them

here or there.

I do not like them

anywhere.

The man standing between she and Jon wasn’t one she knew.  The cold, dank eyes were devoid of any emotion or humanistic qualities.  They were no more than lifeless specks of light in a face grotesquely contorted with loathing.

“I want you dead,” he said flatly.  “And as soon as you are, those hedonistic pictures will be released to the media so that you can’t even die in peace.”

Not in a box.

Not with a fox.

Hatred blossomed, backlighting the empty eyes with an eerie glow akin to fire.  “You’ve ruined my life the last three years, played me for a fool and left me at the mercy of the Russian Mafia over this asinine creation of yours.  They may not be very bright, but they’re quite impatient and physically demonstrative of that impatience.  Those are business skills that I have learned quite… brutally.”

Honestly, she no longer cared about the damn photos.  They would figure out something.  Living was more of a priority.  From her trip through Daniel’s email three years ago, she had known there was international ugliness involved in this mess, but she hadn’t been aware of the extremity of the participants. 

I would not, could not in a tree.

Not in a car! You let me be.

“The fuckin’ Russian mob?” Jon croaked, his face crumpled with pain.  “Dumbass prick.  You deserve what you get for swimmin’ in those waters.”

Staunchly ignoring Jon, for which Petey was grateful, Daniel continued to address his commentary to her.  “They’ve been detained thus far with my ‘minimal’ improvements on the fabulously useless mess you left me with.”

“What do the – “  She stuttered over her words as the very top of dark head became visible through the railing at Jon’s left hip.  Someone was coming up the stairs.  Jesus, it was probably Tony coming back.  She had to warn him what he was about to walk into and keep Daniel from seeing him.  “Daniel!” She plastered her back against the wall, grabbing at his jacket with one hand.  It forced him to face her and keep his back to the stairs.  “Russian Mafia, really?”

Not on a train! Not in a tree!

Not in a car! Sam! Let me be!

She flicked the briefest of glances toward the stairs, relieved enough to pee herself when she caught the shine of Tony’s glasses.  Gripping Daniel’s jacket more tightly, she could see Tony holding a silent finger to his lips and the gentle wave of the gun in his opposite hand.

Daniel’s disparaging eyes slid down and pointedly gazed at the blunt-tipped nails curled into his tweed lapel.  “Do you not recall what happened to your rutting partner a moment ago, you vapid harlot?”  The stun gun hovered  near her carotid artery in warning and she immediately released him, the rough material scraping at the pads of her fingers.

I would not, could not, in the rain.

Not in the dark. Not on a train

Jon pushed his palm to the floor and struggled to rise even as Petey shook her head vehemently. “Listen here, mother fucker, you talk to her like that again and I’m throwing your ass over this railing and hope you fry yourself on the way down.”

“Jon, no,” Petey pled holding her palms aloft to urge him to stay.  If he didn’t stay still, he would draw Daniel’s attention toward the stairs.  A quick glance affirmed that Tony was steadily creeping up the landing, and that there was another dark head not far behind – that of Henry.

Petey wanted to cry with relief.  If anyone could – would – get them out of this, it was their brothers. 

“I am not gonna sit here and listen to that shit,” her stubborn fiancé grumbled, still struggling, unsuccessfully, to get to his feet.

Tony’s head had stopped moving, and she could read his mind.  He was concerned that Jon’s movement would draw Daniel’s attention to floor level, which he was just now peeking above.

Petey’s anxiety level spiked dangerously, and she prayed she could keep it together.  She hadn’t passed out from one of these in twenty-five years.  She wasn’t going to start now, for this deranged psychopath.  Her mental rambling spilled onto her tongue as she battled her body’s reaction to the overwhelming situation. 

I could not, would not, on a boat.

I will not, will not, with a goat.

Daniel’s head snapped up, his attention drawn from the railing and to her.  To Petey’s surprise, his features softened affectionately, the incongruence ramping up her anxiety.  The man was completely disconnected from reality. 

“I will not eat them in the rain.

I will not eat them on a train.”

He pressed infinitesimally closer to her, the hand not bearing the weapon lifting to finger the tendrils framing her face.  “That’s so reminiscent of old times, Darling,” he cooed fondly before his expression deteriorated into one of vile loathing.  The hand that had been in her hair banded once again around her throat.  “I wanted to kill you even then, you mentally unstable imbecile.”

“Not in the dark! Not in a tree!

Not in a car! You let me be!”

Bony fingers dug into her neck, seemingly intent upon ripping out her windpipe.  She vainly struggled to get a breath as the lyrical cadence of Dr. Seuss gained momentum until it sped like a runaway train hurtling down a steep incline.

I do not like them in a box.

I do not like them with a fox.

I will not eat them in a house.

I do not like them with a mouse.

I do not like them here or there.

I do not like them ANYWHERE!

Her vision tunneled and her ears began to ring incessantly.  Knees literally knocking together, she felt them give way and, with the piercing fingertips painfully gouging under each side of her jaw, the world went black.

Jesus Christ, Jon thought as Daniel’s hand sprang open and Petey hit the floor with a sick thud.  It had all happened so quickly that he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing.  Scrabbling across the floor, he pushed a forearm across Daniel’s shins to shove him out of the way, desperate to make sure she was still breathing.

“Petey…”  A light tap to her cheek brought no response.  Or so he thought, until the fucking psychopath pulled him to his feet by the back of the shirt and slammed him face first against the wall to their left.  Turning his head at the last second saved breaking his nose and subjected his cheekbone to the impact. 

Now what the fuck am I going to do?

Tony crested the staircase as Jon’s face met the wall and his brother swore nastily at the man who put him there.  Tony silently and swiftly pivoted around the bannister, putting him in position at Daniel’s back.  The would-be killer hadn’t spotted him as of yet, nor Henry, who hung back on the staircase.

Daniel was snarling threats and jeers as he hovered the stun gun just above Jon’s jaw.  Tony couldn’t make them out, save a pithy  “… and you’ll watch her die.”

Not fucking likely.

Grateful that he’d learned stealth at a much younger age, courtesy of sneaking in the house after curfew, Tony took the final soundless steps that placed him in front of Petey’s prone form and within arm’s reach of Daniel.  Close enough to ruthlessly jam the gun’s nose into the base of his skull. 

“Let him go, you piece of shit, or I’ll blow your brains out.”

He’d never killed a man, but he wasn’t above it.  Family first.  Period.

But the guy was either crazier or ballsier than anybody he’d ever run across, because – never wavering his grip on the stun gun at Jon’s neck, he declared loftily, “This is none of your concern.”

“You fuck with my family, you fuck with me.  Now let him go.”

There was a commotion on the other side of the stairwell as someone exited the dining room, but Tony never lost his focus.  Even as he recognized Dorothea’s voice shouting, “Tony, no!” he didn’t falter or flinch.  What he did was dig the muzzle more deeply into the psycho’s occipital lobe. 

Unfortunately, his mind didn’t follow suit.  He had just gotten his life to a good place – a really good place.  Did he want to chance ruining that by splattering this guy’s brain across the wall?  Yes, it was defense, but not self-defense.  If it came across the wrong way to the wrong people…

All hell was breaking loose around him.  Dorothea tried to rush to his side, only to be roadblocked by Henry, whose mammoth size served him well against a frantic karate instructor.  He took the blows she dished out with only a grunt of pain, keeping her locked up in his arms, safely away from the action.

Those security guys were mounting up at his back, alerted by Dorothea’s shout, and it sounded like a stampede as everyone else in that room threw their chairs back and clambered toward the door.  There was a quiet cacophony of “What the fuck?” and “What’s going on?”  while his mother was bellowing out, “Jonny!  Anthony!”

“You’re not going to do it,” the bastard under his gun taunted, rearing his head arrogantly into the weapon.

Petey heard screaming, but it wasn’t her own, even though her throat was sore.  Dorothea screaming Tony’s name?  Her nose wrinkled with confusion.  Then Carol crying out for both Jon and Tony? Dazed eyes fluttered open to see three pairs of male feet surrounding her. 

Tony heard Jon’s muffled, but confident, “The hell he won’t,” and it was all the additional incentive he needed to release his pent-up anger on the man who’d been wreaking havoc in his family for too long.

He abruptly pulled the gun to the right, shooting cleanly through Daniel’s right hand, causing the stun gun to plummet uselessly to the floor.  So did Daniel, for that matter.  He clutched at his wrist, screaming, and dropped to his knees as the blood cascaded from the open wound.

Petey  involuntarily flinched from the loud gunshot and felt, more than heard, something hit the floor next to her before the floorboards quivered under Daniel’s collapsing weight.  Glancing to the source of the first sound, she saw the stun gun lying next to her arm.  A quick look upward found Daniel’s face ashen as he was engrossed in his wound, anguish being wrenched from him in near sobs.

Before she could think about it, analyze it or make any type of formal plan, she curled her fingers around the blasted weapon that had been the source of so much anxiety in such a short time.

Stretching her arm out, she shoved the damn thing up under Daniel’s pant leg, until it came in contact with the bare skin of his calf.

“Jesus, no, Petey!”  Jon’s cry came to her through an eerie haze of tranquility, but she couldn’t pay it any heed.  She had started this and she had to end it.

The trigger depressed easily under her touch and she felt Daniel’s body convulse under its application. 

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…. 

Five. 

Five ticks of the clock passed before the convulsions stopped, and his body lay disconcertingly still.  It was only then that she would allow her finger to fall away from the trigger and the gun to tumble harmlessly onto the floor.

Petey’s eyes closed as a sick relief clutched at her heart and pumped out through her arteries, filling her body with its liberating and heady intoxication. 

A final quote flickered across her consciousness as bedlam reigned around her.  The difference was that, this time, it was borne not of anxiety, but peace.

“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done: it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.”

139 - Watch Your Step

Tuesday came early.  You can thank the lone husband who reads this thing. ;o) Without further adieu, Learning Patience returns....

“I’m going to speak with Petey’s parents,” Carol attempted to excuse herself from the table almost as soon as Tony left.  Dorothea had enlightened her about his recent efforts to quit smoking, ending with the fact that she would know that if she ever bothered to call her middle child.

“Carol,” Dorothea spoke in a low voice, taking advantage of Romeo’s visit to his Uncles’ – Tico, Richie, David and Obie – table to speak frankly.  Matt, Desiree and Senior would get over what she was about to say.  Or not.  It didn’t much matter to her. 

“Treat me however you like.  If you think so ill of me to believe I’m sleeping my way through your sons, then so be it.”  Without looking his direction, she tossed out a dry aside, “Don’t worry Matt, not happening.” 

Desiree’s snickering was a light spot in the otherwise tense moment. 

“Whatever helps you cope with the idea of Tony marrying me is fine – as long as you don’t push him away.  I don’t even understand why you would want to?  You’ve raised a good, good man who doesn’t deserve that from you.  Why are you punishing him for being happy?”

“Dottie, don’t judge,” her former, and future, father-in-law chastised gently.  “You don’t know everything.”

Carol chimed in with a muted, “No, you don’t.”

“What don’t I know?  I’m perfectly willing to learn, if it keeps Tony from being hurt by your behavior.”

“What you don’t know is that I’m making an effort, Dorothea,” Carol told her quietly, with an odd combination of submission and defiance.  “I don’t know why this is affecting me so strongly, but I am trying to get used to it all.  You think you have to protect him from me, but I’ve made a life out of protecting him.  Protecting them all.  So, please, back off.” 

What was intended to placate Dorothea, only made her angrier. 

Don’t act like I’m the one in the wrong here, dammit.  Your sons’ lives are not all about you.  They each deserve to live their lives without fear of judgment from their own fucking parents!

She’d seen it in Jon, too, through the years, although not to this degree.  He, more often than not, listened to and considered his mother’s input when she offered it.  After all, she had helped him manage his career in the very early days.  Dorothea understood that – somewhat, anyway.  The other two sons, however…

She would love to call Carol on the carpet, but Petey probably wouldn’t appreciate the scene.  This was what Dorothea had been dreading since she first found out about the dinner.  For appearance sake, she was going to have to let it go and keep the peace.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to acknowledge her internal struggle though. 

Biting her tongue, she swiveled in her chair, pointedly turning her attention to Desiree.  “So where are the little ones tonight?”

And where the hell is Tony?

☠ ☢ ☠

Tony took final drag on his half-smoked cigarette, stuffing the remainder of the butt into  the  sand filled pot that had been courteously provided by the restaurant management.  He couldn’t tell if the smoke coming out his mouth was actual smoke, or just his breath materializing in the cold air. 

Cold or not, the time had been well spent.  After ten minutes talking with Henry Heinz, he had some additional insight into his new sister-in-law.  He’d also given Henry some new insight of his own.

“You’re telling me she fights with him?”

The glass-panes in the exterior door rattled when Tony pulled it closed behind them.  Rubbing his hands together for warmth, he grinned at the protective oldest brother of Miss Patience Heinz.  “Yeah.  Hang on for a second, man.” 

The heat inside the restaurant’s second floor fogged up his glasses, and Tony was forced to stop,  remove them from his face and wipe away the condensation so that he could see where he was going. 

“I’m amazed that you think she’s a shy introvert.  Petey was really quiet when she first started working for me, you know?  It was all about work, and she barely spoke to any of us at the studio, but I never considered her shy.  Now I never dreamed she’d go toe-to-toe with anybody...”  He snickered, replacing his glasses and wiggling his nose until they were seated comfortably.  “Guess I never landed on the right nerve.  She sure as hell goes toe-to-toe with Jon, and comes out on top pretty often from what I can tell..  The only other woman I’ve ever seen handle him as effortlessly is his ex.”

“Whom you’re now going to marry.  I need another drink before we go back up.”  Henry shook his head in wonder, jerking a thumb toward the bar in the corner.  “Wanna grab one with me?”

Tony hated to leave Dorothea with his mother, but another beer under his belt would be great.  His girl would be fine for another few minutes.

“Sounds good, man.  Lead the way.”

Resting his weight against the bar, Henry placed his order for Glenlivet on the rocks and waited for Tony to order the beer on tap before commenting, “Not to be offensive or anything, but I hope you don’t plan to set your sights on my sister when you’re done with Jon’s ex-wife.”

Tony smiled with just his mouth.   If this guy wasn’t Petey’s brother he would have cold-cocked him without hesitation.  As it was, his eyes stayed unsmiling and, he hoped, intimidating.  “Not to be offensive, but you say that again and I’ll put your behemoth ass on the floor.  There is no ‘being done’ with Dorothea.  Don’t make me out to be a sleazy fucker when you don’t know jack about us.”

“Point taken, and my apologies.”  Henry lifted his glass with a conciliatory nod.  “Just watching out for Patience.  Lifelong habit.  Guess I might rethink it a bit since she seems to have finally come into herself.”

“Yeah, you might,” he agreed after a long swallow of the full-bodied house beer.  Between it and the two he had before coming down here, Tony was starting to loosen up, and it made him a little more forthcoming than he might have ordinarily been.  “She’s picking up two more brothers in this, too, ya know.  My younger brother, Matt, and her don’t know each other that well yet, but it doesn’t matter.  She’s family now.  We’ve got her back just like we do each other’s.”

It wasn’t the beer talking, he meant that.  Petey had done a lot for him on a professional level, but it couldn’t touch what she’d done for him – them all – on a personal level.  Tony and Jon were closer than they’d been in years, and happy.  Dorothea, the kids…  They were all happy.  Petey’s presence had played a major part in that.

“Good to hear.”  The glass hit the bar with a muffled ‘thunk’ and the ice rattled against the sides.  Mr. Heinz could drink.  His double-shot was gone.  “We aren’t as close as we once were, but Patience was the center of my world for a lot of years.  It’s hard to let that go, even when I don’t see her for months at a time.”

“That’s the way it is with family, man.”  Tony guzzled the last of his beer and pushed the empty pilsner glass toward Henry’s, taking a step back from the bar.  “Speaking of which, we’d probably better get back.  Jon and Petey were having a ‘discussion’ in the hall when I came down, and I wanna make sure everything’s cool.”

The bigger man stepped back as well, following Tony’s lead.  “Yeah, I got the feeling something wasn’t right.  Patience was wearing her social graces face and pearls.”

Chortling, both men backtracked toward the stairs so they could rejoin their families.  “Petey in pearls…  Something not right about that at all.”  Tony’s slightly scuffed black shoe had just sunk into the carpeted staircase runner when he heard the snarling voice. 

 "He… is alive only because I allowed it.  This stun gun carries twice the power of the last one.  He shan’t be walking away this time.  Oh… and neither shall you.”

Motherfucker.

It had to be that highbrow cocksucker Daniel.  Nobody else he knew could make a death threat sound so condescending.  For that matter, nobody else he knew wanted to kill Jon or Petey. 

His head snapped around to see if Henry had heard.  The dark thunderclouds swirling across his face and the clenching of his fists said he had.  “Daniel,” he mouthed to Tony.

Nodding silently, he slipped his right hand into the waistband of his jeans, glad he hadn’t agreed with Dorothea’s suggestion to leave the Glock at home tonight.  She hated him carrying it, and reminded him that there would be security, but something in his gut had told him to tuck it into the small of his back anyway. 

Thank God for that gut. 

Allowing Henry to see what he was doing, Tony released the safety and gripped firmly gripped the butt of the gun, allowing his finger to hover over the trigger as he ascended the next step.  The weapon was aimed up and to the left, toward the direction of the voice – the same side of the stairwell that Petey and Jon had been huddled into a few minutes ago. 

“Daniel, you don’t know what you’re doing.”  Despite the slight tremor to her protest, Tony was impressed with how calm Petey came across.  "I don't know how you found us, but there are men with guns within earshot.  You can’t kill us here.    One scream and they’ll be here in seconds.”

Already here, sweetheart, but feel free to scream away.

Up another step, the bulk of Henry at his back, Tony aimed the gun toward his left.  He could easily make out a figure next to the railing, but it was Jon.  His brother’s knuckles were white with the force he was exerting to grip the bannister, and he was looking away from the staircase.

Henry had caught the same thing, pointing wordlessly to the left as Daniel scoffed, “Electronic listening devices, stupid woman.  I planted them on my little visit to him the other day, in preparation for just this moment.  As for your laughable security, you presume that I care about their presence.  You’ll be dead before they realize what the screaming is about.”

Tony crept up another stair, nodding his understanding to Henry. 

“If you kill her, you won’t get the information you’ve been so determined to have.”  Jon’s voice all but hummed with fury.  Tony had been on the wrong end of that temper more times than he could count and didn’t have to see his brother’s face to know that it was set in hard, angry stone. 

“I can tell you’re not the brains in this relationship,” came the immediate and pompous scorn.    “Your whore will tell you I can figure it out if I so desire.  I’ve only been trying to make her feel useful.”

“You’re a lying sack of monkey shit who needs to learn some fucking manners.”

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh, then an electronic ‘zap’ searing through the air followed by Petey’s stifled cry and Jon’s curse as he hit the floor.  His brother was slumped against the railing, head wedged between two of the narrow, ornamental posts. 

“Touch me again and you’ll both die without  further ado.”

Where the fuck are those security guys?