156 - Train Kept a Rollin'

“Stop staring out the window.  She’ll be here.” 

Jon pushed impatient hands into the pockets of his slacks and ignored Tony, who had just rejoined him in the guest room.  Jon was wearing his groom’s attire of pink dress shirt, black tie with skulls and most of his suit.  The black jacket lay draped across the guest bed, awaiting the witching hour.   As that hour ticked closer, he glowered at the front gate and driveway, willing a car to appear.  So far, he’d seen all of Petey’s family arrive, his parents with the boys, and Matt and Tico with their families

“I’m not looking for her.  I’m looking for Richie.  He should have been here already.”

Which was true.  He just happened to be looking for both of them.  Her text messages had given him a crazy feeling in the pit of his stomach.  They were clipped, and she left him hanging in both exchanges.  Even with the damn emoticon that he’d broken down and used.  Now he had it stuck in his head that she was either pissed over the whole Richie/Denny/Candace thing, or in the middle of an anxiety attack.

When the hell had he become so damn ‘sensitive’?  He took things at face value, analyzed, assessed, fixed, and moved on.  He didn’t create drama where there was none.  It found him often enough of its own accord.  Yet, here he was, imagining that she was less than the excited bride.  Idiot.

“He isn’t worried about this at all, huh?”  Tony had taken up a post next to him, another sentry at the window, surveying the activity – or lack thereof – at the front gate.

“That’s what he said.  He sounded a little tweaked over it, I thought, but he’s determined to do that thing he does.”

Crossing arms over the front of his blue dress-shirt and tie, Tony asked curiously, “What thing?”

“The thing where he pretends things aren’t going to hell around him.  He smiles and rolls right on, in complete fucking denial.”

His brother’s dark head dipped toward the window.  “There he is.”

Jon shifted his weight toward the balls of his feet with anticipation.  Good.  They  could get all this squared away before Petey ever got here.  Then he got a better look at the vehicle gliding down the driveway.   It was a sporty little black Porsche.   He leaned back onto his heels. “Nah, that’s Lemma, unless Rich borrowed one of his cars.”

“Then maybe that’s him.”

There was a black Town Car rolling in right behind the Porsche. 

“Or Petey.  Coming with me?”

Didn’t matter who it was, he was going down to greet them.  He couldn’t stand here for another hour.  The boys had just gone tearing down the hallway.  If nothing else, he’d spend some time with them. 

“Yeah, sure.”

The two eldest Bongiovi sons descended the staircase to the trill of Stephanie’s pleasant, “Hi, Uncle Mookie!”

“Hey, baby girl.  You’re more and more beautiful every day.”  He bent to kiss Steph’s cheek, arm stretched out behind him.  Whomever he was holding onto was still hidden by the open door.  “D,” Richie greeted Dorothea, who was standing close behind Stephanie.    His mouth and Dottie’s both tightened, and he pulled his right hand forward, bringing the Amazonian Candace into the foyer and allowing the door to close.  “This is my date, the lovely Candace.  She works for TBJ.”

The lovely Candace looked like she just stepped off of a runway as Richie peeled away her girly-girl coat to reveal a short, tight turtleneck dress.  He had to look twice to see if the deep-red garment had been sprayed on, but she tugged at the long sleeves, so it must actually be a dress.   The over-the-knee boots with platform-fuck-me-heels elevated her a good two inches taller than Richie.

Lord, God, Jesus, he thought as Stephanie took their coats and wisely disappeared down the hallway, where the rest of the guests were visiting with one another.

Jon couldn’t believe Petey worked with this chick.  She didn’t look like she could plug in a hair dryer without assistance, much less do all the video geeking that came as second nature to Tony and Petey. 

“Candace, it’s nice to meet you.  I hope Tony isn’t a tyrant to work for.”  Classy Dottie, the consummate hostess.  She could always make anyone – including blonde cockroaches – comfortable in a social setting.  It had been a God-send to him during hundreds of public appearances. 

“Hey, don’t be talking bad about me,” Tony chided, the sole of his shoe tapping the foyer tile as he walked off the final step, leaving Jon behind.  “I’m right here.”  He snaked an arm Dorothea’s waist and smiled at the new arrivals.  “Hi, Candace.  Rich.”

Pale, perfectly groomed eyebrows contorted with perplexity, and Candace stared blatantly at their intimate stance.  Swishing her long, blonde hair behind her shoulders, unabashedly greeted  Dorothea with, “Hi.  So you’re Jon Bon Jovi’s ex-wife?”

Dottie’s mouth went even tighter, clearly unimpressed with the blatant lack of tact.  “I answer more readily to Dorothea, but yes.”

Jon was jostled to the side, and a faint breeze of vanilla wafted by with a feminine strut down the stairs. 

“It would probably be more kind to refer to her as Tony’s fiancée than Jon’s ex.”

Fuck!  When did Denny come upstairs?  And how much of this has she heard?

But, as the saying went, a picture was worth a thousand words, and the picture of Richie’s fingers curled into Candace’s….  He was betting it was good for at least two thousand to a smart girl like Denny.

“Hey, Den.  What are you doing here?”  Richie’s smile was easy to the casual observer, but Jon could see the strain in his eyes.   He was certain Denny could see the same. 

“Richie.”  Her golden blonde – compared to Amazon’s platinum – head bobbed in a casual greeting.  “I brought your suit.  Tony took it upstairs and put it in one of the guest rooms for you.  Tony…?” 

“Yeah, it’s in the big blue bedroom.”

“You didn’t have to come all the way to Jersey for that.  I could have gotten it myself.”  Now his friend was feeling like a little bit of a shit.

Denny’s smile was plastic, not quite reaching her eyes.  “That’s no problem.  You paid for the plane ticket.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go and speak to Tico and Alejandra.  Seems like forever since I’ve seen them.”

Jon immediately set off after her.  Richie had known what he was walking into.  He allowed this to happen.  Denny didn’t, and he wanted to make sure she was okay.

They’d taken a dozen steps down the hall before he was able to grasp her elbow.  “Denny…”

She pivoted around to give him the same plastic smile, eyes darting past his shoulder to the two couples in the foyer.  The smile never faltered, but her softly uttered words were anything but happy.  “If you’re going to say something to me about Richie, please don’t.”

Frowning, he dropped his hand.  “I only wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.”  The smile slipped a bit, but she didn’t allow it to fade away.  “Thank you.”

“Kidd, your woman is being harassed in the driveway by your keyboardist!”

“Thank God,” he mumbled before issuing his earnest plea to Denny.  “You know Rich.  You know how he is.  Talk to him for God’s sake.”

“Jon…”  This time it was her touching his elbow.  “Richie and I are the same as we’ve always been and always will be.  It’s your wedding day.  Go and be happy.” 

Was he making a bigger deal out of this than it needed to be?  Petey had mentioned that maybe it wasn’t a problem.  Fine.  He would let it go.  Denny was right.  This was his wedding day.

“Okay, but if you need-“

“I won’t,” she assured him.

What else was there for him to say?  Denny went on her way to the other part of the house, so Jon turned reluctantly away.  He ran smack into Dottie, palms out like stop signs that hit firmly against his chest.  

“Where you do you think you’re going, mister?”

“You heard Rich.  I’m going to rescue her from David.”  He glanced pointedly at her restraining hands, fully expecting her to step out of the way.

“No you’re not.  You’re going into the other room and tell Teresa that Petey’s here.  Then you’re going up the back staircase to help Richie get ready.  While doing that, I sincerely hope that you overcompensate on tying his Windsor knot and give him an uppercut to the jaw.  Bonehead deserves to be knocked unconscious.” 

Ex-wife bossing him around on his wedding day.  There was something intrinsically screwed up about that.  He didn’t have to stand for her dictatorial ways.  Forget that he’d poached her house for the event.  “And why in the hell do you think I’m going to do that?”

“Because,” she sighed, hands falling away.  “You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, dipshit.”

“Oh.”  He wasn’t well-versed in this wedding ritual stuff.  That’s why he and Dottie had flown to Vegas in the middle of the night.   It was pretty weird that Dottie was the one schooling him in it now, though.  She was one-of-a-kind.  He hoped she would be happy with Tony.

“Tony,” she called over her shoulder.  “Come here and go with Jon.  Bring Richie with you and make sure you help him with his tie.”

The front door opened and Dottie spun him around before he could catch a glimpse of Petey.  “Go.  Tony and Richie will be right behind you.”

“I can’t just leave Candace,” Richie objected behind him. 

“You’re probably right,” was Dottie’s muttered agreement.  “Gavin will eat her alive.”

Next post:  Thursday, August 30