158 - Final Countdown

“Give me that,” Gavin ordered as Petey grinned foolishly at the screen of her phone.  “Get your cute little tush wiggled into that dress so you can make that damn sappy face at him instead of your phone.  Gawd.  Who knew you two would turn out to be romantic?”

Gavin could have the damn phone.  Those two, simple electronic words had gone a long way toward calming her frayed nerves.  The insecurity bubbled just a bit below the surface, but it wasn't boiling over anymore.

Teresa efficiently unzipped the garment bag that was lying across the sunshine yellow comforter, saying calmly, “Everyone needs a little romance in their lives.  Even geniuses and arrogant rock stars.”

Unzipping her hoodie, she draped it over a chair and pulled a face at her mother.  “Like we’re some uncultured sub-species.  Thanks, Mom.”

“Stop that.  You know what I meant.  Even if it seems you don’t need or want the softer side of love, a little bit of romance is good for the soul.  That’s why I never begrudged your father his little… romantic tryst.”

So as not to disturb Gavin’s hair styling efforts, Petey carefully stripped the tank top over her head and put it with the hoodie. 

“Condiment King had a little fling?”  Gavin trilled as he fluffed at the pink ostrich feather trim that was interwoven with three blushing roses and matching sheer ribbon on the back rim of her hat.  “How did that turn out?”

The rustling satin of the gown quieted abruptly.  Teresa and Petey exchanged a look, and Teresa shrugged a shoulder as though to tell Petey it was up to her.

“It turned out to be a Tinkerhell.”

He gripped the brim of the hat with both hands, jaw going slack with disbelief. “Shut. UP!  You’re a bastard love genius?”

Satin rustled once again as Teresa shook out the gown’s skirt.  “Have you ever had a filter between your brain and your mouth, young man?”

“Once upon a time, in a closet far away.  I left it behind when I came out.”  He shook the black top hat and gave a single nod of approval at the delicate feathery flutter.  “So, Papa was a rolling stone…?”

Petey knew she was going to eventually regret this, but as she kicked her shoes and socks aside, unzipped her jeans and fastened her garter belt to her stockings, she filled Gavin in on the details.  She briefly told him of her father’s indiscretion, her birth mother’s death and Teresa’s commitment to keeping it all in the family – including Petey. 

“Jesus, you really are Mother Teresa,” he drawled, a glimmer of respect lighting his eyes. 

“Hardly, but none of it was any fault of Patience.  Every child deserves to be loved.”

“Oh Gawd, stop with the Hallmark moment.  You two are wreaking havoc on my guy-liner!”

With an affectionate wink for her mother, Petey smirked at Gavin.  “That’s twice today.  Your reputation is going to be in shambles before the day is over.  Accept it.”

“What.  Ever.”  Tossing his head, he sniffled and sassed back with, “Blue lingerie?  Not pink?  He’s not gonna recognize you, girlfriend.”

Embarrassment made her cheeks hot.  Stepping into the skirt, she shimmied it up over her hips and mumbled, “Heterosexual wedding traditions.”

“What?”

Her mother’s laugh tinkled in the air as she pulled up the short zipper.  “Your ‘something blue’?”

Petey nodded and tipped her chin defiantly.  “The bride is supposed to have ‘something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue’.”

“Honey, I know that.  I’m just amazed that you know it, Goth Mistress Geek.”

“Patience…  Your corset.”  Teresa held out the top half of her wedding-dress, and Petey gave Gavin her back so that she could slip out of her bra and step into the stiff garment.  She spun and waited patiently for her mother to complete the tedious process of lacing up the back.  Once cinched around her torso, the corset created an impressive display of cleavage and a fair amount of bust spilling out the top. 

“I’m not totally out of the loop on social conformities.  Most of the time, I just don’t care to adhere to them.”

“Your snobby, educated vocabulary is wasted on me, Dollface.  I ain’t impressed.”  He stretched out his hands and ran them along the garment’s steel boning.  “However, this…?  This impresses me.  Your girls are enough to make a straight man drool in this corset.  Seeing as I bat for the other team, I just have breast envy.”

Her laugh was cut short with an especially sharp tug on the laces.  “Mom!  I need to breathe enough to say I do!”

“When you walk down the aisle and Jon’s eyes are bulging out of his head, you’ll appreciate this.”

“Well, you’re going to have to put my boots on me.  There’s no way I can bend over with it trussed that tight!”

“The dress is new,” Gavin recited, foraging in her duffel for the mid-calf Victorian boots.  “So are these.”  The light shone through the black lace insets as the shoes dangled from his fingers.  “And your hat and choker for that matter.  What about old?”

“Gloves.”

“Ah yes.”  Another trip into the bag produced a pair of black satin opera-length gloves, which he tossed to the side.  “We’ve established that the panties  and garter belt are blue.  What about borrowed?”

“Borrowed is a problem.  I don’t have anything.”  She sucked a breath in through her teeth and glared over her shoulder.  “Are you about finished redesigning my rib cage back there?”

One more series of tugs and her mother said, “Yes, smart mouth, I’m done.  Gavin, help her with the shoes while I go scrounge up something borrowed, find your bouquet and tell Henry it’s almost time.”  Petey’s oldest brother would be walking her down the aisle.

“You don’t have some treasured heirloom to lend your daughter?  I thought we were going to have another Hallmark moment here?”

“Thank you for pointing out my maternal shortcomings, but, really, all I need you to do is put on her shoes.”

“Ooh,” Gavin breathed after the door slammed shut.  “Mama T is a little touchy.”

“And you’re a little bit of a monumental pain in the ass.”

☠ ☢ ☠

Jon took a deep breath, smiled, and stuck a hand out to Henry.  “Hey, man.  I see you’re no worse for wear after getting your ass kicked last night.”  He had already made his rounds of the other guests and made sure his guitar was tuned.  After tuning his own guitar, Richie now practically had his hand in Candace’s lap.  Denny pretended not to notice or care as she talked to Tico’s wife, while Dave conspired with Teek. 

So, he stood near the altar by himself with no further way of avoiding Petey’s oldest brother. 

He didn’t have anything against Henry, except for the big bruiser’s determination to be an overbearing protector of his sister.  The incident with Daniel hadn’t proved to be a bonding experience for them, and he’d been a little bit of an arrogant ass last night.  At least until Richie and Dave had kicked his ass at bowling.  Then he’d paid to cover his wager on the game, grumbled and left with the Senator.

“Jon.”

His attitude hadn’t softened any overnight. 

“Petey said she asked you to be the one to give her away.”

“Yeah.”

Jon felt his mouth go stiff and he knew if Bergman was snapping any candid photos right now, he would see that smile his mother had bitched at him about for years.  “You look like you’re gritting your teeth.  People can tell.  Stop it.”

Well, he was gritting his teeth. 

“Are you gonna give her away or kidnap her so she doesn’t marry me?”

Henry looked down his nose at Jon.  “What do you think I should do?”

“Me, personally?  I think you should get over yourself.”  He kept his tone light and his smile as friendly as he could manage.  “She’s mine.  She wants to be mine.  I’m going to take better care of her than anybody else in her life has, and that includes you.”

Anger radiated from Henry’s body.  “Are you saying I didn’t take good care of my sister?”

“Probably better than anybody else.”

“But not as good as you can?” he scoffed.

Jon lifted a casual shoulder and absently straightened his tie.  Fucking around with his tie was a distraction from both Henry and the fact that it was a quarter ‘til four. 

“Listen, man.  You’ve got a wife.  Think about it.  You don’t love her like I do.  Simple as that.  Can we get over this pissing contest now?”

“Excuse me.”  Teresa’s voice stopped Henry from verbally replying, but he offered Jon a begrudging nod.  If he wasn’t mistaken, that might even be the faintest tinge of respect in the big man’s eyes.  “This is an odd question, but does anyone have a skull of some kind we could borrow for the ceremony?”

“Bossman, I’m not versed in the wedding rituals of the Satanic church,” David called from across the room, his hands thrown up.

“Shut your piehole, Bryan.”

David always had to have a wise ass comment.  Jon wasn’t looking forward to a reception with both him and Gavin.  He had a very real fear that it would end up being a duel to the death, with wit as their weapons.

“Teresa... I’ve got this.”  Richie unglued himself from Candace long enough to stand and pull back his jacket sleeve.  Displayed there was a bracelet Jon knew his friend had owned for years.  He hadn’t seen the heavy, silver bracelet of skulls in a while though.

He must have thought it appropriate for this particular wedding, Jon thought with a silent chuckle. 

“Perfect, Richie.”  She held out a flat palm and wiggled her fingers , silently ordering him to give it up.

“Your big goon arms are twice the size of Tink’s.  She can’t wear your bracelet.”

Teresa flapped her hand at him.  “Then she’ll wear it as an anklet.  She needs something borrowed and I think she’d appreciate skulls, since she’s the only one in the wedding party not wearing them.”  Her fingers curled around the heavy metal he deposited in her palm and she smiled.  “Thank you, Richie.” 

Bending to brush a kiss against the Senator’s cheek, the elegant older woman allowed the guitarist to reclaim his seat before rising and regarding her eldest son.  “Henry, bring Patience’s bouquet and come with me.”

Jon’s gut clenched and he straightened the soft pink rose sitting on his lapel.  It was almost game time. 

“Jon….”  Teresa’s commanding voice captured his attention.  “You’ve got ten minutes.  Are you ready?”

He had a song.  Richie had a song.  They had their monkey suits on, with the accompany boutonnieres.  He sort of knew what he wanted to say.  There was no fighting amongst the guests for the moment.  The kids were being docile.  Bergman was here for pictures, and Lemma was…  Well, Jon thought he had given Lemma enough direction and threats to keep it reasonable. 

All he needed was a bright-eyed imp to make it complete. 

Jon shook out his jacket sleeves a bit nervously and inhaled the scent of all the roses and lilies scattered around the room.    

Jesus.  He was really doing this.

“Yes, ma’am.  I’m ready.”

You are cordially invited to a wedding….

Tuesday, September 4

Twelve noon EDT