153 - Wedding Day

“Oh Gawddddd.  I fucking HATE cotton candy,” Gavin moaned, weaving unsteadily through the penthouse kitchen and nearly knocking a bare-chested Jon over in his quest to reach the refrigerator.  “Water.  I need water.” 

Jon grinned and shook his head as the large, stainless steel appliance shuddered when his guest slammed it closed.  He hadn’t known Gavin had stayed over but it explained – well, was another explanation – why Petey slept with Jon last night.

“Smiling?  At… “  Bloodshot eyes sought the clock on the microwave, before glaring at Jon accusingly.  “Nine o’clock in the morning?  You’re one of those damn morning people aren’t you?  I don’t know if even a perfect chest can make up for that.”

Jon grinned wider as the younger man cracked the plastic lid from the bottle and took, for all appearances, was a life-giving swallow of water.  Knowing he should feel guilty reveling in the hang-over pain of Petey’s friend, he couldn’t quite muster the appropriate remorse.  Sometimes Karma was a bitch, and it looked like Gavin was on the last train to Karma this morning. 

“And those day-glo teeth.”   A bony hand rose to shield his eyes and he shrank into the far corner of the cabinets away from Jon, who was sitting at the island with his coffee and laptop.  “ Jesus, Bon Bon, put a dimmer switch on those things.  You’re blinding my sensitive eyes.  I thought you were a friggin’ humanitarian??  Where the hell is the number for ET?  That Nancy O’Dell needs to do an ex-po-say on your Satanistic ways.”

Downgrading his smile to a wry twisting of lips, Jon folded his arms on the counter and regarded the drama queen curiously.  “Bon Bon?  Please tell me you’re not going to eat me.”

“Christ, man.”  Folding his long legs, he climbed onto the stool opposite Jon.  “A fork and a can of whipped cream…”  The words incited a full-body convulsion that made Jon want to laugh out loud.  “…couldn’t entice me to eat you this morning.  Bon Bon was your retro-self stripper from last night.”

Yeah.  He definitely didn’t want to know.  What he did want to know, if Petey’s BFF would tell him…  “Is that what set Petey off?”

Bloodshot slits of gray stared back at him in such a way that told Jon he was barking up the wrong tree.  The tree in question turned out to be an exotic nut tree – perhaps a Chest-Nut – because he didn’t ignore or skirt the question.

“Yes.”  Squinting one eye closed, he pointed the open mouth of the nearly-empty water bottle at Jon’s face.  “Keep it in your pants, Rockstar, or I will find a way to infest your crotch-fur with the fleas of a thousand camels AND the most raging case of crabs you’ve ever scratched your way through.  Don’t play my girl that way, you got me?”

Jon rolled his eyes.  “Put the stiletto back in your pocket before you hurt somebody.  It’s all good, Friendzilla.”

A soft feminine chuckle came from behind him, and he turned to find her, still tousled from the bed, standing in the kitchen doorway.  The hem of her pink flannel pajama pants trailed the floor and she had, yet again, swiped one of his t-shirts.

 “Morning, Baby,” he greeted her, holding an arm wide to invite her close.  When she sidled up against him, he touched her cheek with a light kiss.  “Feel like gettin’ married or are you too hung over?”

“Only a little hung over,” she murmured sheepishly, rubbing a hand up and down his thigh.  “I’ll be recuperated shortly, though.”  Peeking over into his mug, she asked, “Is there more coffee?”

He nodded his head toward the pot and put his feet on the floor.  “I’ve only had one cup.  You get the cream and sugar, and I’ll pour you some.”

“Blechhhhh,” Gavin gagged.  “You two…” He pointed the mouth of his water bottle first at one, then the other.  “You two are enough to put a queasy stomach over the edge.”  He stood and tossed the empty container in the recycle bin and announced, “I’m going home.  Peee-tay, what are the travel arrangements to Joisey?”

“Jon?” She deferred to him as she gathered her coffee enhancers. 

Gavin’s lips puckered like a stuffy librarian. “He can’t ride out with us.  It’s bad enough you screwed his brains out and then woke up in his bed this morning.  At least create the illusion of tradition, girlfriend.” 

”Cryin’ shame that two people are about to be married and want each other,” Jon drawled.    The carafe clinked against the heavy mug and steam rose from its center.  “I can see why you’re so bent out of shape.”

Gavin glared “Don’t make me throw a hissy fit.  A hung-over, gay man hissy fit is equivalent to a PMS-ing Wonder Woman:  Super Bitch.”

Petey smiled while she was adding an unhealthy amount of sugar and milk to her coffee, and Jon couldn’t help but indulge in a tiny, inconspicuous smile, too.  He was kinda getting used to Gavin.  The trick was to realize Gavin really just liked to hear himself talk.  Lemma was that way when he was drunk.  Not quite as … flamboyant, but just as mouthy. 

“I’ll call – “  His solution to the problem was interrupted when the house phone rang.  Any more, it was such an odd occurrence that Jon just stared as it pealed out from where it was hanging on the wall.  His cell phone could blow up all day long, but this line was almost obsolete. 

“Are you gonna answer that, or are you waiting on an assistant to pop outta the pantry and do it for you, Your Royal Hotness?” 

“Go to hell, Gavin.”

“My ticket’s already booked, but thanks for your concern.”

Petey sighed, plunking her mug back on the counter and gracing them both with a glare of feigned annoyance.   It was a fine line between amusement and aggravation at the squabbling that strongly resembled an old married couple.  Neither would appreciate the analogy.    “I’ll answer it while you two bicker.”  Punching the button on the cordless handset, it emitted a high-pitched, electronic beep.  “Hello?”

There was a drawn breath at the other end, and Petey repeated, “Hello?”

“Uh, yes.  This is Denise Salazar.  Is this… Petey?”

“Yes…?”  She didn’t recognize the name.  “Denise Salazar, you said?”

“Denny,” Jon supplied, having resumed his perch at the counter.  “Richie’s PA.”  He held out a hand for the phone.  “I’ll talk to her.”

“Actually…”  He had spoken loudly enough for Denny to hear.  “I’d like to talk to you, if I could, Petey.”

“Sure, you can talk to me.”  She shrugged with bafflement at the men who were closely watching her.  “What can I do for you?”

“First of all, congratulations.  I understand you’re getting married today.”

“Yes, we are.  Thank you.”

“Secondly, I wanted to say that I saw about the shooting on the news.  I hope everyone from Camp Jovi is handling it all okay.”

“Thank you for that, too.”  Petey meandered back to the counter and her coffee cup.  She needed caffeine to make sure she didn’t miss the reason behind this conversation.  “We’re doing our best to put it behind us and focus on the good things.”

“What a great attitude.  I’ve known Jon quite a few years, and admit I was curious about the woman who could convince him to walk the aisle a second time.”

The sweet, creamy mixture slid down Petey’s throat, warming her from mouth to stomach.  “Mm.  He actually convinced me.”

“Now I’m even more curious.”

Having never seen, and heard very little about Richie’s assistant, Petey could only gauge that she wasn’t a young girl and that she was amused at the thought of Jon persuading someone into marriage.  Oh, yeah, and that everybody thought Richie should be seeing her as more than an assistant.

“Then why aren’t you joining us?” 

If she had turned around, she would’ve seen Jon grimace harshly.   Beside her, Gavin folded his arms and regarded her with nosy interest. 

“I… uh, I thought I had other commitments.  That was actually the other thing I wanted to ask you about.   Do you have room for one extra at the wedding?”

 “Of course.  We would love to have you at the wedding, and I’m sure Richie would, too.”

“Petey, no,” Jon hissed, but she waved him away.  Whatever his objection, the woman was in California and the wedding was in six hours.  She would never make it, even if Petey did find that regrettable.

Denny laughed nervously, making the hair stand up on the back of Petey’s neck.  “That’s a relief.  It means I didn’t waste a flight to New York.”

Sugary coffee sloshed over the edge when Petey sat her mug heavily on the counter. 

Hope Jon didn’t have any real objections to that invitation.  

“Oh, you’re here?  In the city?”

“Sonofabitch,” Jon muttered and carried his coffee cup to the sink. 

Gavin wasn’t the least disgruntled, and was fairly quivering with interest.  She would be lucky to finish the call before he started pouncing like a curious, overgrown cat.

“Yes.  Richie needed someone to bring his clothes for the wedding to New Jersey.”

Petey’s brow furrowed.  “What?  You flew from California to ferry his suit from New York to Red Bank?  And why isn’t he in the city?”

If she hadn’t, as Gavin so eloquently put it, ‘screwed Jon’s brains out’ and promptly passed out, she might know more about what the bachelors had done last night. 

“He and David went to Atlantic City from what he said, and didn’t want to make the extra hour’s trip back to New York last night.  I promised him I’d find someone to bring his suit, but it was just easier to come and do it myself.  I haven’t seen the band for a while and… Richie said he may be staying out here a while.”

Staying out here a while?  When had that come about?

“Well… great, then.  If Richie’s already in New Jersey, that leaves Jon riding alone.  If you can grab a taxi by here in the next couple of hours, you  can go with him.  My…” She wrinkled her nose.  “…maid of honor doesn’t think the bride and groom should share a car before the wedding.  I’m sure Jon would appreciate the company.”

“That’s very generous of you.  I think I’ll take you up on it, if you don’t mind.  I’m going to swing by his hotel to pick up the suit and I’ll come by Jon’s – your – place after.”

“That sounds fine.  I look forward to meeting you, Denny.”

“And I you, Petey.”

The electronic beep of the phone was still lingering in her ears when Jon groaned and shoved a hand through his hair.  “Sugar, you can invite anybody you want to our wedding, but this is not going to play out well.  Richie’s bringing a date with him.”

“What?  I didn’t know Richie was going out with anybody.”

Gavin placed a consoling pat on her shoulder as Jon wandered back and forth from the sink to the refrigerator and back to the coffee pot.

“Honey, from the way your man is pacing, I’d say Mr. Slam-bora isn’t dating, he’s schtupping.”

Next post: Friday, August 24