160 - Through My Eyes

Smiling wistfully, Gavin surveyed the guests chatting amongst themselves.  It was a lovely affair, and everyone was playing nice.  Sad, really.  It gave him no excuse to break bad on anyone’s ass for misbehaving. 

A husky laugh caught his attention, pulling his smile wider.  Peteykins and Superass had been posing for photos for... EV... er and their looks were so hot that he figured they were about half a step away from screwing in front of the photographer.  He couldn’t recall the guy’s name.  Another Jewish David, he thought, but couldn’t be sure.  

His trouble-radar went up when spotting the two mamas chatting over some bubbly.  He wasn’t entirely sure about Mom Jovi being on board with this yet.  Snagging his own glass from a passing waiter, he casually strolled by the matriarch mosh pit.

“They’re happy, aren’t they?” Teresa Heinz-Kerry sipped pink champagne and gazed upon her daughter and son-in-law.

Lowering the flute of her own bubbly drink, Carol Bongiovi thoughtfully concurred. “It’s been… years since I’ve seen Jonny so content.” She swirled the remains of her champagne, creating delicate waves of effervescence against the crystal flute. “In all honesty, I wasn’t very nice to Petey when I met her.”

Teresa nodded. “She told me. The engagement announcement came very suddenly, though. In all fairness, I may have been the same way if I hadn’t already known Jon.”

“Thank you.”

“Your opinion has changed now, hasn’t it?” Shrewd brown eyes searched blue ones that were every bit as shrewd, prepared to make Carol ‘see reason’ if necessary.

“Yes, yes, of course. You can’t tell a heart what to feel. As long as my sons are happy, I’m happy for them.” With a genteel shrug, she admitted. “It’s a lesson better learned late than never at all.”

Gavin lifted a proud hand to his chest.  Miss - Missus - Petey was going to be fine with Mom J. 

Turning, he unintentionally bumped into another guest while dodging the two youngest Jovi urchins.  Jasper and Ricardo?  Something like that.

"Hello again, Candace, Queen of the Amazon.  How the hell tall are you anyway?" Gavin hadn't encountered too many women that could meet his eyes without a substantial amount of neck craning.

"Oh." Professionally arched eyebrows slammed down over her eyes. "It's you."

"Yes, darling." Pointing a single finger toward himself, he slowed his words for full effect.  "Gavin. Maid of honor. I would think a man maid would have made more of an impression."

"I try not to remember people who blatantly insult me."

"Oh, ya caught that huh?" He offered a conciliatory pat to her arm.  "I prefer to think of it as an overactive honesty gland.  No offense intended, Stilts. Ya got a date with Richie didn't ya?  Whatever I say shouldn’t make a damn bit of difference.  It's just jealousy talking."

His eyes snaked across the room to its furthest corner, where Richie was talking with his assistant.

"Speaking of jealousy, how ya holdin' up over there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sambora. Assistant Sambora. You don't see the writing on the wall?"

"I don't see anything aside from the fact that I was invited to spend the evening with a nice guy, who happens to be rich, famous and smokin' hot."

"Did someone call me?" David sidled up next to Candace, with an annoyed frown for Gavin. "Are you bothering this lovely lady?"

“Probably.”

Candace’s face lit up with a mega-wattage grin, and she offered her hand.  “Hello, Mr. Bryan.  I believe we met at the holiday party.  I’m Candace.”

“Candace...”  Lifting her hand, he brushed her knuckles with a kiss.  “Of course I remember you.”

Gavin rolled his eyes to the ceiling and edged away.  “Oops...  touchy gag reflex.  Later, children.”

Slambora better watch his date, or she’s going home with the minister, he thought with a shudder.  That was a little too sacrilegious even for his loosely knit ‘beliefs’.

Perhaps he should casually wander by and investigate what was going on with Mr. Bluesman and …

He’d no more had the thought than another couple caught his eye.

Bro Jo and Snarkalicious had their heads bent together a couple of tables over, and Gavin absently wondered how Ghost of Jovi Past was handling the wedded bliss.  Strolling over in that direction, he gave himself kudos for not always being a cold-hearted bitch.

“What made you change your mind?”  Little Brother Number One was asking, threading his fingers through those of his woman.  The rest of the world might as well not be there, the way he was looking into her face. 

The Snarky One was just as engrossed in her man.  “It’s the middle of the tour.  It’s a very short four months away.  Maybe you were right about waiting until August.  Or maybe even next Christmas.  It’ll give the kids more of a chance to get used to it.”

“Babes, I’m sleeping in your bed.  They’re used to it.  Did something happen that I don’t know about?”

She looked over his shoulder to where Jon and Petey were exchanging dirty smiles for the camera.  “No.  I just think we would be better off to wait for a while.  That’s all.”

Yikes!

Could TBJ hear Gavin’s bullshit meter going full-tilt from where he was sitting.  Judging by the dark haired man’s grunt of frustration, Gavin would say yes.  But what was the guy gonna do?  Pick a fight at his brother’s wedding reception?

Wonder what’s got the unflappable Ms. Dorothea backpedaling down the aisle?

Not really his thing to worry about, but he’d kind of developed a fondness for his Snark Sister.  With a sad shake of his head, he resumed his course for the far corner, where the King of Swing and his assistant were involved in an in-depth discussion.

What excuse was he going to manufacture for sticking his nose in the isolated part of the room and invading their privacy?  Oh, yes.  There was a lovely painting on the wall he’d like to get a closer look at.

“Things will be just like they’ve always been,” Tall, Dark and Handsome said and broke away from Madame Assistant with a detached peck on the cheek.  “I’ve gotta go play, Den.  Have a safe trip back.”

He brushed by with a muttered apology.  Looking after him as he wove his way through the assortment of small tables to the front of the room, Gavin silently swore.

Damn.  Those other two made me miss out.  I wonder if The Keeper of the Schedule would cough up any details?

Before Richie had a chance to approach the head table, where Jon and Petey had finally settled themselves, Gavin made his move.  Hand outstretched and his most charming smile in place, he chirped, “Hello darling, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.  I’m the maid of honor, Gavin.”

Dark, hazel eyes were speaking more volumes than the woman herself ever would, but she dredged up a half-smile and allowed him to clasp her hand.  “Denise Salazar.  I’m Richie’s personal assistant.”

“Yes, yes, of course you are.  I see that you were having a very serious conversation with your employer.  I hope nothing is wrong?”  He batted his eyes and smiled encouragingly.  A million secrets had been pried from New York’s society hags with this look.

“No, not at all.”  Her eyes drifted to the aforementioned employer’s back where he had bent to speak to the bride and groom.  “Just making sure I have his travel arrangements set.”

“Oh.”  Damn woman would never make it in New York society circles.  “That’s good.  I hope you enjoyed the ceremony?  They should be serving dinner soon.  I hear the shrimp almandine is to die for.”

“Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stay for dinner.”  Again, her troubled eyes flicked to a laughing Richie.  “I have a flight to catch.”

“Hey!  Could I get everybody’s attention for a minute?”

The guests’ chatter dropped to a dull murmur, only pierced by the youngest Jovi’s plaintive, “I want to sit with Dad!”

Bless Tinkerella’s heart…

Once the boy had climbed into dear old Dad’s lap, Richie went on with this public service announcement.  “The food should be out here in a minute.  While we’re waiting for it, I have a quick song I’d like to do for the happy couple.”

“Oh, come on,”  Gavin urged, curling an arm around Denny’s shoulder and guiding her toward Tony and Dorothea’s table.  “At least stay long enough to hear whatever musical gem your boss has for us.  You can sit with me.  I’m going to cop a squat with Snarky Spice and Tony B. Can we join you love birds?”

Despite their still firmly entwined hands, they were both in separate worlds and staring unseeingly at the front of the room.  Both seemed to be relieved to have company.”

I see they didn’t get any further.

“Of course.”  Dorothea’s went from empty to full of warmth for Gavin’s companion.  “Denny, you’re welcome to sit with us.  The Fairy Gaymother has to promise to behave, though.”

“But, baby, you know I’m better when I’m bad.”  Deciding to play the gentleman since he wanted to be nosy about Denny’s life, he pulled out a chair for her.  “Here you go, lovely lady.”

Bro Jo was busy perfecting his silent snarl, but his woman was feeling her oats. “Denny, what have you done to Gavin?  He’s being nice to you?  Did you threaten to emasculate him?”

“Zip it, Supasnark.  The lady’s paycheck is gonna sing.”

The Bon Jovi guitarist took a moment to comfortably situate his long, sexy frame on the padded stool before settling a guitar in his lap. It had a honeyed, natural wood finish instead of the shiny black of Jon Boy’s guitar from the ceremony.  Dark eyes slid their direction, and his mouth puckered into a hasty frown when he saw Denny.  It wasn’t until his train of sight flicked around the room and found his ditzy date sitting with the little Jew boy that the frown melted into a more easy smile. It was spooky, but at the same time that happened, his eyes went flat and vacant.

Curly-Q, you’re in some trouble for hijacking the man’s date.

The two conflicting expressions dueled for a flash before he gave it up and brought his attention to the couple at the head table. Tucking his tie down into his jacket, he plinked out a couple of random notes and spoke as though there wasn’t a thing in the world wrong.

“There were some tense moments at the beginning of this relationship, and not just between Jon and Petey. Jon, man, you’ve been my best friend for what feels like most of my life.  I’ve never wanted anything for you but happiness. Petey, my pretty dark angel, if anybody deserves happiness, it’s you, Darlin’. It took me awhile, but now I genuinely believe you’re going to find that in each other.”

He picked out a few chords on his instrument, speaking over the sound. “Believe it or not, I’m not going to do some long, drawn-out, bluesy song. This tune is really short and really simple, but the message is exactly what I want to say to the two of you. I know J.B. likes Sam Cooke, and I hope you do, too, Petey. This is called ‘I Wish You Love’.”

“I wish you bluebirds in the spring

to give your heart a song to sing.

And then a kiss oh but more than this,

I wish you love.

And in July a lemonade to cool you in some leafy glade.

I wish you health oh and more than wealth. I wish you love.”

He took a breath between phrases and winked one playful eye at Petey.  That same eye found Denny in the next breath, then closed as he continued his song.

“My breaking heart and I agree that you and I will never be.

So with my best my very best I am ‘ setn’ you free

Oh honey.

I wish you shelter from the storm.

A cozy fire to keep you worm.

Oh but most of all I wish you love.

But most of all when snowflakes fall I wish you love.

But most of all when snowflakes fall I wish you love.”

The song took no more than two or three minutes, but the genuine honesty and affection of his delivery would make a nice memory for Petey-poo.  She released Jon’s hand to latch onto Richie’s as he passed by, smiling softly up into his face. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Richie bent to kiss her cheek and received a light thump of gratitude from his friend

Gavin was touched at how thoughtful these tough-ass Jersey boys could be.   Weren’t they supposed to be all ‘sleep-with-da-fishes’ kinda guys?  But even His Royal Hotness had manned up and done the hearts and flowers thing today. 

He surveyed the room with an aloof curiosity. Man and Wife were obviously playing footsie under the table.  Baby Bro Jovi was pouting, clearly pissed at his own wife.  The kids were chattering amongst themselves, except for that littlest one that was squirming loose to run like a gazelle through the house.  TBJ was trying to figure out what was going on in Snarketta’s head, but she was doing her best to avoid looking at him. The senior parental units were all taking it in stride, smiling as though it had been their idea all along.  Petey’s bros and their women were sipping champagne in a world of their own - except for the Sasquatch who walked her down the aisle.  He was watching over little sis, but smiling, so he must have finally got rid of that brick he’d been trying to shit all day. The keyboardist’s fingers were tickling something besides ivory in Candace’s lap under that tablecloth.  The drummer - Tito? - was kicked back, chomping back on an unlit cigar studying everything through narrowed eyes as he pet on the stunning Latina at his side.  And last, but not least… Daddy Long Legs Sambora was quietly putting away his guitar, his trusty assistant having just escaped the room.

Yes.  Very interesting crew indeed. 

Surely they had to have a stylist on this tour.  Gavin grimaced at Petey’s physical fawning over her new hubby.  If not a stylist, then he could at least turn the fire hose on those two when necessary.

His decision was made, and he must talk to Johnny Dangerously about a job right away.  These people clearly needed him.

 Epilogue and final notes will post Friday, September 7