155 - Get Ready

"It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am.”

“Jesus, woman, what are you going off on a psychotic quoting fit about,” Gavin demanded, and Petey flinched at the harsh abruptness. 

She hadn’t realized she was doing a recitation.  Or realized she was teetering on the verge of panic.  Her bare heel tapped agitatedly against the cold tile of Gavin’s bathroom floor.

He ran his pinky along the outer corner of her eye, expertly smudging the dark kohl eyeliner.  “There's no need to freak out.  You’re about to marry rock royalty and one of the sexiest men on the planet.  Just ask People Magazine.”

So casually spoken.  As though there was no pressure involved with that.  Marrying Jon was one thing, but it was finally sinking in that she was marrying a very public figure.  Not that she wasn’t used to the whole public arena.  This was just a very different type of public. 

Delusional women staking imaginary claims on her husband may take some getting used to.  It would also take some getting used to the ones who would undoubtedly throw themselves at him.  Those were whole new ballgames for her.  Senators didn’t typically draw that kind of following.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire."

“You might be whispering, but I still hear you,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes.  Tossing the eyeliner into the cosmetics box, he asked, “What the hell is that you’re quoting anyway?  I don’t recognize it.  Then again… if it don’t come out of Cosmo or an entertainment mag, I don’t have much interest in it.”

“Wuthering Heights,” she murmured, batting thick, subtly-glittered eyelashes at her reflection in the mirror.  Gavin had done a magical job of transforming what she considered boring blue eyes into an exotic-slash-fun-slash-sophisticated artistry.

“And that relates to the situation how?”  A fine eyeliner brush was dipped first in water, then a jar of pink glitter.  With a steady hand, he accented each of the three lazy-S designs that were acting as exotic crow’s feet, bracketing both eyes.  The glitter was complementary to the shimmery pink eyeshadow coating her lids.

“Tragic romance.”

He flicked the diamond bar adorning her eyebrow with annoyance.  “It’s not tragic, for Chrissake.  It’s a dream come true!”

 “I know that!” The near-screech stunned Gavin as much as it did her.  The anxiety was trying to manifest itself in an embarrassing display.  She had to get a lid on it.

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it."

Scowling, she reluctantly put her face back within his reach.  If they didn’t finish soon, she was going to be late to her own wedding.  With a look of determined consternation from Gavin, the little brush acquired another layer of fairy dust. 

“Dollface, what’s got you freaking out?”

Petey was grateful that she couldn’t turn her head.  It meant that she didn’t have to look him in the eye.  She didn’t know if she could bear to see the man who’d just spoken with uncharacteristic gentleness and concern.  Her head was in a weird place, and it was embarrassing.  Maybe she could clear out the ‘crazy’ cobwebs if she admitted it out loud.

“I’m just scared.”

“What’s to be scared of?  He’s the same guy you crawled in bed with last night.  He didn’t change in the time we’ve been here.”  He dropped the brush and leaned away from her with a patronizing frown.  “It would take magic for that to happen, and even a fairy gaymother isn’t gonna mess with his mojo.”

Still keeping her gaze straight ahead, Petey’s lips twitched with amusement.  As Gavin started the embellishment process on her right eye, she blandly gave voice to her real fear. 

“I’m a little crazy, Gavin.  There may come a time when he gets tired of crazy.”

“And there may come a time when an Irish man joins Alcoholics Anonymous, but it ain’t likely.”  He tapped the end of her nose with a bony fingertip.   “From what I can tell about your sex life, it’s off the charts good.  A man doesn’t walk away from good nookie.”

Her lids fluttered shut.  Sometimes he really was over-the-top.  “Marriages don’t survive on sex alone.  Not when sex is on every corner, throwing itself at you.”

“No, but good sex will keep a man from straying.  My God, Doll.”  He clicked the flat iron together in front of her face, nearly nipping her nose in the process.  “You’re a rich, beautiful genius.  You’ve got it all.  And…”  The first pass of the iron across her hair sent steam up into the air and left behind a strip of smooth, glossy black.  “…you aren’t afraid of him and his over-big persona and prick tendencies.”

“Gavin,” she scolded.

“Hey.”  Narrow shoulders hunched upward, and he continued with the next section of locks.  “He’s beautiful and has an ass from God, but facts are facts.”

The chime of a text message coming from her jeans’ pocket interrupted the half-hearted reprimand she’d been prepared to launch into. 

“Easy, there!” Gavin warned when she dipped her head, looking at the screen.  “You’ll make me singe your ear.  Can’t have Bro Jo coming along and shooting my ass for frying the sweet Pete-tato.”

“You’re a sarcastic smartass.”

His pithy, “Well let’s get CNN on the line for that groundbreaking discovery,” melted into the background as she read the text.

[2:15 PM]JON: I wish we were in bed right now.

Her insides warmed, and a secretive smile gave an alluring curve to her glossy lips.  He was going to be outrageously inappropriate.  It had only been a dozen hours since they’d been wrapped around one another in a screaming orgasm, yet he was going to start in with racy innuendo.  His voracious appetite and stamina continued to amaze her.

[2:15 PM]PT: Why?

[2:16 PM]JON: Cuz I wouldn’t b here waiting for a train wreck.

Her sexual self-esteem took a nosedive.  Jon wasn’t suffering from an insatiable desire for her, he was managing a crisis. 

[2:16 PM]PT: Still can’t reach Richie?

[2:17 PM]JON: I talked to him.  He doesn’t see a problem.  Dumbass.

“What are you sucking air for, Dollface?”

She winced as Gavin tugged her hair into a tight, low ponytail, unaware that she’d drawn such a noticeable breath. 

“Richie doesn’t see a problem with Denny being there.  I guess he isn’t worried about showing up with his date.”

“Maybe it isn’t a problem.”

“True…”

[2:18 PM]PT: Maybe it isn’t a problem.

[2:19 PM]JON: Hope so.  Jerry Springer is NOT on the guest list.

“That’s it, my stunning Tinkerella. You’re done except for the couture.”

Tucking the phone back into her pocket, Petey glanced into the mirror.  Glossy hair had been tamed into a sleek, sophisticated ponytail.  Eyes were blah-blue, but adorned with enough black and glitzy pizzazz to make it work.  The rest of her face was smooth as porcelain, and her lips were the same subtle cotton-candy pink as her wedding gown.  He’d done well.  She was a tasteful blend of showgirl, vampire and bride. 

“And lotion.”  There was no way she could walk down that aisle without carrying the delicate, sugary fragrance that Jon had been so enamored with from day one.  This was as good as it was going to get.  She smiled up at her friend.  “Thank you, Gavin.  The circumstances were less than desirable, but I’m really glad we became friends.  I haven’t had a lot of that in my life.”

His face puckered and he fanned an agitated hand in front of his face.  “Stop that!  You’ll make my guy-liner run, you evil bitch.”

The melodramatic man was a God-send for her pre-wedding jitters.  She may not have resolved her insecurity, but she surely didn’t have time to dwell on it.  Dimples digging deeply into her cheeks, Petey couldn’t resist teasing him a little.  “I can’t have you looking prettier than me on my wedding day.  That’s just gauche.”

“Dammit, Dollface, I’m trying to tone it down, but….”  He swept his hands down the length of his body with a Vanna White-worthy flourish.  “…you can only stifle this so much.”

She laughed out loud, only to laugh harder when he pouted as though she’d crushed his will to live.  It was sheer luck that she heard the text chime.

“Don’t play the injured party with me,” she laughed, retrieving the phone from her pocket once again.  “You did that on purpose, and you know it.  You’re not the cold-hearted bitch you pretend to be.”

His nose curled with disgust.  “Oh please.  Don’t be spreading that vicious rumor.  I have an image and a business to uphold.  People’s livelihoods depend upon my cold-hearted-bitchiness.”

[2:25 PM]JON:  Are you almost here?

“Jon’s wondering where I am.  We’ve got to get moving.”  Her mother would likely be calling in the next two seconds as well.  They had spoken a couple of hours ago, and at that point, Teresa was already worrying Petey was going to be late.  The only thing that had kept her from calling every ten minutes was Gavin snatching the phone away and informing ‘Mother Teresa’ that things would move a lot faster if the phone weren’t attached to the side of Petey’s head. 

[2:25 PM]PT: Still at Gavin’s.  Getting ready to go now.

[2:26 PM]JON: :-(

Did he really just send a frowny face?  David must have his phone.  Had to.

“Dress here or there?” Gavin intervened in her confusion.

“I can’t breathe in that thing for an hour-long car ride.  I’ll get dressed there.”  The gown was gorgeous, but it wasn’t designed with lounging in mind.  Or sitting.  Or deep breaths, for that matter.

“Then get your shit together and let’s go, girlfriend.  The man will think you’re leaving him standing at the altar.  Besides, I wanna see what’s going down in Tramp Town.”

Next Post:  tentatively, definitely Tuesday, August 28.  No later than Wednesday, August 29