130 - Come Together

“Tony, I didn’t realize you were such a good cook,” Petey enthused, placing her fork on the plate.  It had been a lively family meal with all four of the kids animatedly catching up with ‘Uncle Mookie’.  Between he and Jon, the younger boys had been sufficiently hyper by the time they sat down to a dinner of pasta and sauce.  “It tastes a lot like Jon’s one attempt at feeding me.”

Tony slid a look to his brother.  “Still passing off Pop’s sauce as your own?”

“Oh no,” Petey came to Jon’s defense and found his hand under the table, giving it a quieting squeeze.  He was giving Tony a pointed look and mouthing a choice word.  “He told me it was his dad’s.  I guess your father passes his home cooking around?”

“Uncle Tony makes it as good as Gran’pa,” Romeo proclaimed.  It would probably be safe to consider him an authority, considering that he was wearing at least half as much as he ate.

“It’s true,” Dorothea confirmed, smiling softly at her man.  “Tony is the brother who knows his way around the kitchen.  Jon and Matt never had any interest.”

He pushed to his feet with a sappy grin, stooping to brush his lips across hers before picking up their empty plates.  “It came in handy tonight.  You didn’t kill me for inviting dinner guests since I offered to cook.”

She had considered it, but only briefly, and for that she was glad.  Dorothea found the event oddly comfortable with these men, her kids, and yes, even Petey.  Things might have been awkward a couple of weeks ago in this same setting, but tonight it was just one big congenial family. 

“True, but Petey’s the only one I would consider a guest.  Jon and Richie hardly count, because I wouldn’t hesitate to make them feed themselves.”  Both men, nearly in unison, clasped their hands over their wounded hearts.  It was an ages-old move that they’d never been able to milk any sympathy out of.  Why they were still trying, she couldn’t fathom.  Rolling her eyes, she ignored them.

“They could’ve left me behind,” Petey offered, smiling.  “But…”  She spoke directly to Richie.  “Wasn’t there supposed to be someone coming with you?  Where’s your assistant?”

Dorothea paused briefly in her clearing of the table.  “Denny?  You were going to bring her?”

Not that Denny was an unusual player in their circle, but she normally only came along because of band-related stuff.  Were they making plans for an earlier tour start?  As childish as it made her, she hoped not.  Sending Jon away on a thousand different trips she could have done in her sleep, but sending Tony away wasn’t something she’d been forced to do yet, and wasn’t particularly eager to.

Richie’s hands fell away from his chest and he rose to clear his own dishes with a shrug.  “Tony made the suggestion, but the trip didn’t fit with her plans.”

Regarding him skeptically, Dorothea watched Petey follow suit and pick up her things while the older kids squabbled amicably back and forth with one another.  Meantime, Romey and Jake were both clamoring for Jon’s attention.   They’d been asking for him quite a bit since the wedding announcement.

Change isn’t easy on any of us, kiddos.

“I never could understand your aversion to a relationship with a real woman,” Dorothea remarked.  “Somebody more like Denny than… that other one.  Wouldn’t it be nice to have somebody support you in the spotlight instead of fighting you for it?”

Without conscious thought, she flicked her attention over to Jon and circled the table toward him.  He, evidently feeling persecuted, immediately went into defensive mode.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!  Sambora knew what he was signing on for when he joined the band.”

She lifted an indifferent shoulder and took his plate.  “I wasn’t talking about you.  Harboring a bit of guilt there, are we?”

Richie had his fair share of the female fandom, but she was one of the few people who knew how the fan chatter bothered Jon.  It had only taken a few random signs in the crowd comparing the voices of the two men to make him squirm.  Not that he didn’t love Richie, but Jon had a small, well-hidden spot of insecurity and he compensated by unconsciously trying to overshadow the guitarist.  At his best, he publicly played on their very real bond of friendship.  At his worst, he shook his assets to draw attention away from the left-hand side of the stage.

Jon has issues he doesn’t even know he has.

He’d never believed her when she told him that, though.

“You know what, D?”  The guitarist in question swept in and emptied her hands of the dirty dishes.  “Tone cooked and you were cool enough to let us invade your space, so the kids and I will clean up.  Right, guys?”

Knowing better than to disagree – even though they’d just as soon eat live crickets as wash dishes – the two oldest stared blankly at their honorary uncle.  The two youngest had no such sense of propriety. 

“We ain’t allowed in the kitchen,” was Jake’s way of trying to escape the dreaded task without reprimand.  “Mom says we make more mess than we clean up.”  His little brother was nodding, offering his sage support.  They were going down fighting, and going down together.

Richie just chuckled and gestured them toward the sink with his chin.  “Well, I’ll show ya how to not make a mess.  It’s time you learned.”

“Thanks, Rich.”  Tony edged an arm around Dorothea’s waist, and spoke to directly to her, but loudly enough for everyone else to hear.  “Since this is all under control, I need to run back to the studio for a minute.  Like a dumbass, I left my sitting on the desk and I’m expecting a call.  Wanna go with with me?”

Disappointment clouded her peaceful aura.  Tony had barely been home an hour and now he was headed back out?  As much as she wanted to go with him, she couldn’t. 

“No, I don’t think so.  Jake and Romey have homework that I need to hang over their shoulders for.”  Covering his hand with her own, she quietly added, “But take somebody with you besides Mr. Glock, okay?”

This time it was Jon offering the out, interrupting with, “Go if ya want, Dottie.  Petey and I will stay here until you get back, and I can help the boys with their homework.”

Petey nodded her acquiescence and Richie threw in, “I’ll hang for a while, too.  Go ahead, D.”

Looking suspiciously back and forth between the two men, Dorothea couldn’t help but think something was up.  She never trusted those two when they put their heads together.   That distrust had let her in on more than one sneaky, underhanded scheme in the day.

“No-“

She was in the midst of declining the invitation again, when Tony cut her off by whispering in her ear, “We haven’t been alone together since yesterday morning.  Please?”

Excitement zinged along her skin, and she was grateful to be wearing a thick sweater.  Otherwise that excitement would be evident to anyone who cared to look.  “There will be a guard, too,” she softly reminded him.

“You just wanted a guard for the extra eyes.  I feel safe with Mr. Glock and your ass-dropping skills… Obi Wan.” 

A smirk levered half of her mouth toward the ceiling.  That had been one of her better sarcastic soliloquies, worthy of remembering.  She was glad he did.

“Okay.”

Romeo immediately tugged at the hem of her sweater.  “Does this mean Daddy’s gonna teach me to tell time?”

Affectionately ruffling her youngest child’s hair, she confirmed, “Yes.  If there’s one thing Daddy’s good at, it’s telling time.  You know he’s always wearing his watch.”

“Yup!” He nodded knowingly.  “Except on stage.  Only necklaces on stage.”

Each of the adults laughed lightly at his astute observation – except for Petey.  Dorothea briefly wondered about the look on her face, only guessing that she was making the connection between ‘only necklaces’ and ‘no rings’.

She’s gonna have to find her own peace with that. 

“Okay, then big guy.  Uncle Tony and I will be back in a little while.”  Dorothea treated Richie to her infamous, spine-withering glare.  “No playing Wii with Uncle Mookie until after all your homework is done.  Petey?  Can you enforce the rules with the little boys?  And Jake and Romeo?”

The younger woman dimpled and gave her a conspiratorial wink.  “I think I can help you out there, even if I have to temporarily disable all the electronics in the house.”

“Uncle Tony could fix ‘em.”  Staunchly defending his uncle, Jake narrowed his eyes at Petey.   

“Yes, I’m sure he could,” Petey narrowed her eyes right back at him, even as they twinkled.  “But he won’t be here.  Finish your homework by the time he gets back, and he won’t have to.”

“Hey, that reminds me,” Tony said, pausing, his fingers curled into Dorothea’s to pull her along beside him.  “Are you working for me or not?”

Dorothea’s shrewd powers of perception caught the look exchanged between her ex-husband and his fiancée before Jon answered on Petey’s behalf. 

“As soon as we resolve that little problem, yes, she will.  And, working or not, she’ll be coming on the road with us.”

“Jon, if I’m going on the road, then I’m going to work,” Petey logically informed him, and Tony echoed her declaration. 

“If she’s there, then she might as well be on my crew.  I could use her.”

“Then it sounds like she’s working for you, Little Brother.”

“Good.” Tony turned back to her.  “Ready, Babes?”

“Ready.” 

Dorothea idly wondered how long they could be gone before her house was destroyed. 

Petey and Stephanie are my only defense against testosterone insanity.  Please, God, just no football in the house this time.

☠ ☢ ☠

The boys were in the family room with Petey, while Steph and Jesse had gone up to their rooms.  Jon and Richie were in the kitchen, charged with the task of finding ‘something to eat’, because Romeo was ‘starving’ only thirty minutes after dinner. 

“I know she’s got cookies here somewhere,” Jon grumbled.  “She’s just gotten better at hiding them.”

“Yeah, well maybe she knew you were coming over and wanted to keep some for herself or the kids,” his faithful sidekick chuckled evilly.

“HA!”  Jon’s head withdrew from where it was buried deep in the kitchen cabinet, and he emerged victorious, waving a package of chocolate chip cookies in the air.  “Found ‘em.”

He moved to the center island where he opened the brand new package as Richie gave him hell.  “She’s gonna kick your ass, you know.”

“And?”  Jon wasn’t worried.  She would be in diamond ring bliss when she got back.  Cookies wouldn’t enter her stratosphere for days.  “Are you gonna eat any, or do I call the boys in to help me finish ‘em?”

“Gimme.”  Long guitarist’s fingers slapped his out of the way and snagged four of the baked goodies.

A harrumph of arrogance, accompanied by the matching facial expression preceded Jon’s smug, “That’s what I thought, you sanctimonious fucker.”

Both men leaned on the counter, contentedly munching cookies with the hope that the kids wouldn’t amble in and force them to share.

“So…”  Richie wiped the crumbs from his mouth, eyes trained on the wooden countertop of the island before seeking out Jon’s.  “I know I already apologized, but I need to look into your face and do it.   That way, I can be sure you know I mean it.”

The two men had greeted one another when Jon arrived, but they hadn’t had the opportunity for more than a perfunctory hello and one of Richie’s psycho hugs.

“Don’t start.  I knew you meant it the first time.”  He shoved another whole cookie in his mouth, speaking around it.  “I wath still pithed for-“  He swallowed.  “-a while, but I’m over it.  The Denny factor helped.”  Fishing another cookie from the plastic, he asked.  “So what’s the story there?  You looking for a new assistant now, or what?”

Richie allowed the cookie he’d just picked up to drop back into the package, rubbing his fingers together to dislodge the crumbs.

“No.  Not yet.  Maybe not at all.”  He sighed, clearly disgusted.  “I fucked up.  Denny was pissed at me for the way I was acting over you and petey, and the fact that I was indulging with my regular hookup-”

Jon was the one disgusted now, and couldn’t help interrupting.  “Jesus, I hope you wear a rubber with that one.  She ain’t doin’ you any favors, man.”

His friend was not impressed with the commentary.

“Listen, I know you excel at every-fuckin’- thing you do, but I’ve got two predominant areas of expertise – music and sex.  I’ve lived half a century without my dick oozin’ anything it shouldn’t, so save the fatherly wisdom for Jess.”

Flinching at the thought, Jon bitterly mumbled, “Shut your hole and tell me about Denny.”

With a garbled grunt, he shoved himself away from the counter, and paced restlessly around the kitchen’s center island.  “I pushed and prodded until she admitted she has feelings for me, then I kissed her.”

“And left town?  God help us all if you’re the sensitive, romantic one.”

Richie’s head was definitely somewhere else, as he didn’t bother to reply to the slanderous remark.  “I’ve never thought of her that way.  Am I doing it now because I’m desperate or because I’ve been blind for seventeen years?”

“Was the kiss a disaster?”

That was a negative.  The sappy smile on Richie’s face told that answer loud and clear.  “No, but it was full of… emotion.  Emotion I haven’t caught up to yet.  I think it scared us both, which is why I didn’t insist that she come with me.  Some thinking time will do us both good.”

“Excuse me, but…”  Petey’s husky voice interrupted from behind Richie. 

Jon smiled at his fiancée, knowing she’d heard the better part of their conversation.  He’d caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye earlier, but had allowed her to lurk there unannounced.  He just let her do her thing.

“…it sounds to me she’s had plenty of thinking time.  You’re the one that’s uncertain and, unless I’m completely off base, that’s what she was trying to avoid.  You did fuck up.  Forcing that move before you could commit to pursuing it was pretty crappy if you ask me.”

Jon swept his hand toward Petey, dipping his head in submission.  “I defer to our local genius.  She’s right.  Where are the boys, Sugar?”

She’d no more murmured that they were watching television when Richie peevishly informed her, “Well, Darkly Angelic Genius, I can’t exactly undo it.  It is what it is.”

“That’s not entirely true.  You can undo the shutting her out part.  Invite her here again.  Insist.  If I need to call and issue a personal invitation, I’ll do it, but she needs to see that you’re only working things out in your head, not running.”

She was leaned into the island fiercely squaring off against his best friend, who looked a lot like a whipped pup.  Richie either believed what she was spouting or was still sucking up to her, because he agreed to make the call.

For someone who claimed to be socially inept, Jon thought Petey was pretty good with relationship advice.  Other people’s relationships, anyway. 

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