28 - Cotton Candy Land

“Dad, come on!” Stephanie distracted him from the leather glove display at Kenneth Cole. “I only have a couple of hours before I need to be back in Jersey, and I have a ton more Christmas shopping to do.”

Jon was enjoying the rare father-daughter shopping excursion.  Rare because his daughter wore him out within the first two stores.  She ran around like a hamster on speed, checking out every single rack in the store and coming back with a thousand things that she just had to try on.  Of course she was Christmas shopping, but when would she find another pair of jeans with a tear in the leg just like that one?

He honestly didn’t mind.  It was nice having some time with his girl, and he’d picked up a couple things himself.  The leather gloves in his hand were for Richie because he never remembered how fucking cold New York was until he got here, then shivered like a Chihuahua, making Jon cold just looking at him.  It was a matter of self-defense.

He picked up another pair thinking his dad may like them, too.

“I’m coming kiddo.  Just let me pay for these.”

“Here.”  Stephanie plopped down a pile of gray fur that strongly resembled something found dead on the roadside.  “Since you’re buying something anyway, get these too?  My friend Tasha will love them.”

He lifted an eyebrow at the heap of disheveled fur that didn’t seem to be breathing – at the moment.  “What the hell is it?”

“Da-aad…”  There went the patented teenage eye roll  combined with the ‘poor clueless parent’ head shake.   The furry creature miraculously split into two parts in her hands, and she waved both pieces in front of his face.  “Mittens and earmuffs!  Sometimes you truly are a man.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.  His baby girl was almost a grown woman now, and she had the required male condescension down pat.  To him, it was cute.  To whomever she ended up marrying.  Well, Jon would offer his condolences when the time was right.  “But I’m the man with the money,” he reminded, tweaking her cheek.  “So show a little respect.”

As ordered, she graced him with a radiant smile and obedient, “Yes, Daddy.  I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled, passing his credit card across the counter to the sales associate.  “You love my Amex and you know it.”

“Well…”  She appeared to be trying to come up with a way to refute his accusation, but couldn’t seem to find the elusive line between honesty and schmoozing, so she went with honesty.  “Yeah, I do, but you’re the one who pays the bill.”

Spoken like a true woman. 

He smirked and tucked the credit card back in his wallet without comment.  Accepting the parcel from the clerk, he politely thanked her and added to his already overloaded arm of purchases.

“Where to next Princess?” he inquired as they exited the store and merged into the heavy Saturday pedestrian traffic on Fifth Avenue in the Flatiron District.

She pushed him toward Midtown Manhattan, with a wide grin and enthusiastic, “This way!”

Dutiful father that he was, Jon trudged valiantly along behind her, accumulating additional shopping bags in Zara, Barnes & Noble and Express.  The child was wearing him out.  He was a singer, not a pack mule, and mentioned that fact to his beautiful, economy stimulating daughter. 

Knowing that he was wrapped around her little finger, she merely laughed and promised just ‘one more stop’ at Sephora before they called it a day.

Great.  Makeup Hell. 

That disparaging thought brought another, more curious thought with it.

I wonder if they sell Goth makeup?

He hadn’t seen Petey since that night over a week ago, when she’d appeared at his door asking for a place to spend the night.  A couple of blatantly nosy text messages to her, and she’d let him know everything had been resolved at her old apartment and that she was moving into her new place this weekend. 

Like the inconsiderate ass he was, Jon had forgotten to ask about her new place or even where it was.  Hell, he didn’t know where her old place was either, other than East Village.

That’s because she magically appears at your door like a high-class hooker – without the price tag – whenever you call. 

His stomach curdled a bit at the bitter truth of his blatantly uncensored thought. 

“Ohhhh Daddy!” Stephanie stopped suddenly in front of him, spinning around with a pained wince on her face.

His protective instincts went into overdrive at her agonized expression.  “What?  What’s the matter?”

“Well…” Her big blue eyes fell to the ground briefly before she lifted them again, making them all soft and beseeching.  “I forgot that I need to get Mom some pajamas from Victoria’s Secret.   Can we stop in there before Sephora?  Please?” she begged prettily.

“You couldn’t have asked that without scaring the hell out of me first?”

“Well I could, but you might not say yes without that awesome sense of relief that nothing’s wrong.”

Lord, God, Jesus.  Save me from dramatic teenagers.

“Next time just ask,” he ordered in his least amused Daddy voice.

“Yes, sir,” was her contrite submission before tacking on a hopeful, “But can we go in?”

They were standing in front of huge, pink-bordered windows that were papered with half-naked women.  Jon looked nonchalantly around him, hoping this continued to be a paparazzi free day.  Pictures of him shopping at Victoria’s Secret wouldn’t be as bad as some of those pictures from the eighties, but it was a close second.

 “As long as it’s a short visit.”

“Thank you, Daddy!”  Rising on tip-toe, she put a big, smacking kiss on his cheek before enthusiastically bursting through the door to Panty Land.

Panties and makeup in the same day. It’s a good thing I’m secure in my masculinity.

Jon stifled a sigh and, tugging his black cap further down on his head, slipped into the feminine haven, testosterone in hand.

It actually wasn’t too bad in the front part of the store.  Turned out they actually had some clothes, not just underwear.   He would just hang out here until Steph found what she was looking for.  Staying firmly in the outer garment district, Jon pretended to look around while trying not to feel like a pervert. 

This kind of store was one thing if he were shopping for a wife or lover, but with his daughter?  Awkward.

He was just musing at why they had to print big, bold letters across the ass of every pair of pants in the place, when a familiar smell wafted by.

Cotton candy.

With a flash, he remembered Petey saying her lotion came from Victoria’s Secret. 

Intrigued, he followed his nose through a display of fairly nondescript panties into a room exclusively devoted to perfumes and lotions.  Jon casually picked up first one bottle and then the next trying to find the source of Petey’s essence.

“May I help you, sir?”

He straightened from the shelf he was sniffing to find a young blonde, dressed entirely in black with a tape measure strung around her neck smiling expectantly at him.  Apparently he looked lost.

Pulling out his rock star grin, he determinedly pushed away the purpose of the tape measure and returned the girl’s smile.  Gesturing helplessly toward the displays around him, he divulged, “I smelled something like cotton candy and was just trying to decide which of these it was.”

Her smile kicked up a notch and she motioned for him to follow her to the other side of the fragrance room.  “I think this might be what you’re referring to,” she suggested, handing him a pink tube. 

One quick breath confirmed that it was, indeed, the fragrance he’d been chasing.  It smelled a little different without Petey’s natural scent blended in, but there was no mistaking that it was her lotion.

“It’s part of our Beauty Rush collection,” the salesgirl continued, clearly pegging any man who chases his nose through a panty store as an easy mark.  “We have six different varieties of body mist, body lotion, shimmering body cream and a product that you can use as a bubble bath, shower gel or shampoo.  There’s blackberry, strawberry, pear, water fruit, plum and spun sugar.  The one you have in your hand is the spun sugar, and it’s called Candy, Baby.”

“I see.”

“They’re on sale today,” she threw out her tempting hook.  “All four products for thirty-five dollars.”

“Dad?”  Stephanie appeared at his elbow, a pair of black pajamas in hand.  “What are you doing?”  She leaned forward to sniff the lotion he was holding.  “Mmm.  That smells like Petey.”

He turned to his daughter with a contrived look of confusion, heart beating a little too fast.  Stephanie didn’t know anything.  He would pretend total ignorance.  “What?”

“Petey, the woman that came to fix our TV last week.”  She pointed toward the pink tube.  “That’s what she smelled like.  I bet she wears that lotion.” 

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

A speculative gleam coming into his eye, he regarded his daughter thoughtfully.  “Hey, Steph?  I’m having that crew Christmas party next weekend, and am getting a little gift for everyone.  I’d already decided on something for the men, but Monique didn’t have a suggestion for the women other than chocolate.  What do you think about this stuff?”

He was warming up to his spontaneous brainstorm.

“Well how many women are there?” his logical child inquired.

“I don’t know.  Less than a dozen.”

Steph shrugged carelessly.  “Sure, I guess.  Every girl likes smelly stuff, and since I’m nearly positive Petey wears that one…”  Again, she pointed to the pink tube.  “… you can make sure she gets it.”  She draped the pajamas over her arm and reached for a red tube.  “MMmm!  I bet your wardrobe person, Dawn, would like this one.”

So with his professional shopper daughter’s assistance, and to the delight of the salesgirl, they got two complete sets of each scent, for a total of a dozen gifts.  It was better to have too many than not enough.  Each was to be festively wrapped and delivered to his penthouse, where Monique could collect them before the party. 

And if his female crew head count turned out to be less than twelve?  Well, he would keep the extra at his place. 

For guests.

Stepping back out onto Fifth Avenue,  arm circled around Stephanie’s shoulders and feeling quite pleased with himself, Jon casually offered, “So Petey’s kind of interesting isn’t she?”

“Oh my gosh.  Ye-aah!”

“I’m surprised your mom let her in the house.”

“Well, it was touch and go for a minute there, but I guess Mom figured if you would let her in your place, and Uncle Tony vouched for her, it would be okay.”

Stephanie looked up at him.  “I mean, I know you’re not supposed to judge by appearances, but you would never guess from looking at her that she was so smart.  Super smart, even, since-“  She stopped abruptly, biting her lip and looking off into the distance.

Jon knew that look.  His daughter had been about to spill something she wasn’t supposed to tell.  He’d seen it many times during the divorce when she thought talking about Dorothea would upset him.

“Since what?”

“Since she fixed the TV so fast.  Hey look, Sephora is having a killer sale!”  She tried to slip away from him, but he latched onto her elbow, pulling her to the side and giving her his stern father look.

“Since what Steph?  This woman is going to be on the road with us for a long time.  If there’s something unusual about her – other than her appearance – then I want to know about it.”

“Dad,” she implored.  “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.  And it’s unusual, but not in a bad way.  Honest.”

“If it’s not bad, then it won’t hurt to tell me,” he insisted, Spidey-senses tingling in anticipation.  His daughter held a clue to the mystery of P.T. Diehl, and he wanted it.  Badly.

But his stubborn oldest child shook her head in a rare show of defiance.  “I can’t, Dad.  I have no idea why it’s such a big deal to her, but I promised.  You don’t want me to break a promise do you?”

Damned by the friggin’ parental code of morality.  No, he couldn’t force Stephanie to tell him something that didn’t affect anyone’s health or well-being.  Not in good conscience, anyway. 

But it didn’t stop him from planning his next round of quid pro quo with Ms. Diehl.