70 - Hey Jealousy

She refused to look at Jon or acknowledge him, but Petey could feel his eyes on her as she slid her hand into Richie’s.

“Darlin’?” Richie murmured, looking down at her as they skirted the edge of the room on their way to the ‘stage’.  “What’s wrong?  You’re trembling.”

Smile firmly affixed, she shook her head and assured him that all was well.  “I just get a little nervous in crowds,” was the only believable explanation she could come up with for her shakiness.

“No reason to be nervous.”  He lifted her hand for a quick kiss.  “They’re just my friends, and you already know most of them.”  The guitar case hit the platform with a gentle thud.

“Tink!”  She was whirled away out of Richie’s grasp and into David’s arms for a fierce hug.  “I can’t believe you chose to go out with this guy on purpose,” he chastised with a playful scowl.  “I was gonna ask you out for tonight, but he was all up in my grill bragging about how he got to you first.”

“You lie,” she laughed, taking a step backward out of his reach. 

“Nope.  True story.”  He took a single finger traced an ‘X’ over his heart.  “Cross my heart.”

But...  He had to be kidding.  “Richie?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Uh.  Yeah.”  He swiped a palm over the back of his neck.  “I called and told him about the party, and he said he was going to invite you to be his date.  I told him not to bother.”

Completely surreal.  Petey shook her big hair and beckoned them both close.  “I just want to make sure we’re crystal clear here,” she said in a low voice, so as not to be heard by those standing a few feet away.  “I don’t do relationships, I do friendship.  That’s all.  You both know that, right?”

“Except for dipshit,” Richie mumbled, his features darkening.

“That never happened,” she said with authority, conveying a deeper message with her eyes before reverting her gaze back to David.  “Are we all on the same page?”

One light and one dark head nodded, neither looking particularly thrilled.  "Who's dipshit," Dave stage-whispered to Richie.  "And do we have a chance against him?"

“Oh good Lord,” she bemoaned.  “You’re both idiots to think you want me.  You don’t even know me!  I’m the most screwed up woman on the planet.  Get over it and move on with your lives.”

With that she walked away, leaving them to follow her with their eyes as she made a beeline for Tico, who greeted her politely and introduced her to his wife and David’s date.  Both were beautiful women, and Alejandra was warm and generous, welcoming her into their circle.

Glancing up, she saw that Jon was talking with Tony and Dorothea, who had just joined the party.  The set of his shoulders was a little stiffer than usual, but he had a congenial smile as he brushed his ex-wife’s cheek with a kiss and clapped his brother on the back.  He was really trying, and Petey was inordinately proud of him.

“Petey?”

Alejandra had been speaking to her while she was zoning out on Jon.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, touching the other woman’s elbow in apology.  “I get wrapped up in my thoughts sometimes.  What were you saying?”

The lovely Latino woman smiled graciously, assuring her, “That’s quite alright.  I was just asking about your dress.  It’s so unique, and it fits you beautifully.”

“Doesn’t she look sensational in it?” Richie crowed with a wide smile, joining them.  He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a look of admiration.  “I knew she would.”

Petey rolled her eyes and gave him an easy elbow jab to the ribs.  “You can’t be trusted to give an honest opinion since it’s your creation.”

☠ ☢ ☠

Jon signaled LaDonna for another drink as she passed by, following Matt out of the room, and a flirty wink let him know she’d seen the subtle gesture.  Matt had taken the news of Tony and Dottie with a 'whatever' attitude.  He thought it was screwed up, but it wasn't his problem.  To each his own and all that...

“We were talking after you left last night,” Tony was saying.  “Dorothea told me about your invitation, and that led to the conversation I’d had with Petey earlier in the day.  That was  when we realized she and Richie would be here too.  I didn’t know they were seeing each other?”

“Me either,” Jon muttered, wishing LaDonna would shake a leg and bring his refill.  He should have asked for two, he thought, eyes unwillingly seeking out Petey’s dark presence in the room. 

Would she take his best friend home at the end of the night and fuck him in that girly pink bed of hers?  Had she already?  He could just see the cascade of ebony hair spread across the pillows and the rosiness she got in her cheeks after she’d climaxed.  But in this picture, it wasn’t his face hovering above her, it was Richie’s.

The vision caused the alcohol in his stomach to churn in an unpleasant way. 

Petey was his.  She may not know it, and he may not know how to make it work, but goddammit, she was his.

She had to be.

Calm down.  The last thing you need to do is start another argument.  That’s not the way to go about this.  Figure out a way to make things work and talk to her like a grownup.

Her husky laugh found his ears, and he saw that she was tucked into Lemma, his arms boxing her in as he showed her how to do the intro to “Runaway” on his keyboard.  She was giggling up into his face, looking … happy. 

Great.  Now it wasn’t just Richie he had to worry about, it was Dave too.  Sadly enough, they would probably both be better suited to her than he was. He couldn't recall that she'd ever been 'happy' when she was with him.  Satisfied in bed, but not happy out of it.

The giggles continued as she tried to work the sustain pedal along with the piano keys, evidently without much success.  Lemma brought his face close to hers and whispered instructions in her ear, and she concentrated intently with the effort to execute them.

Jon knew he was a totally undeserving prick, but when she wasn’t frustrating the life out of him, Petey made him want to be different.  She dimmed his obsession with the next big business deal or the most recent sales projections.  He found her more intriguing than the things that usually ruled his life.

“Jon?”  Dottie gave him an inconspicuous nudge, nodding toward the waitress who was trying to serve his drink.

“Thank you.”  He accepted the glass with an absent smile.

All he had to do was figure out how to change his entire personality and fit Petey neatly into his conservative rock star life.  That shouldn’t be so hard.  Right?

☠ ☢ ☠

Petey was grateful for the distraction of David and his crazy efforts to teach her basic piano.  She didn’t possess an ounce of musical creativity, but at least now she understood the concept and mechanics. 

Richie, not to be outdone, had immediately followed up by putting his guitar in her hands.  It hadn’t taken long to discover that her small fingers weren’t nearly long enough to manipulate the fret board.  Unwilling to give in that easily, he positioned himself behind her and executed the chords while she strummed.

She was fully concentrating on which string to pluck when he put his mouth to her ear.  "I don't want you to say a thing.  Just know that if you ever change your mind about that relationship... I'm only a phone call away."  His lips touched her face softly.  "We could make it work, my pretty Dark Angel."

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and held her breath for a heartbeat before nodding.

Why couldn't it have been him?  

Awkward relationship discussions aside, the evening was more enjoyable than Petey had expected it to be.  Tico and his wife were charming, David and Richie were both attentive and amusing, and the man that came in later, Obie, fit right in with their shenanigans.  Even David’s date was… entertaining.  Not very bright, but entertaining.  On one of the occasions that Matt was able to pop in and check on them, he was even kind enough to compliment Petey’s dress.

Why is it that both of his brothers could be nice to her, but Jon couldn’t?  For that matter, everyone in the room was nice to her except for him.  The only time he'd spoken to her was a brief hello when she stopped to speak to Tony and Dorothea.  That could hardly be avoided when he was standing right there with them.

Dorothea more than made up for his shortcoming with her effusive appreciation for Stephane's scarf - almost to the point of being embarrassing for Petey.  The girl had sent a text message with a lot of exclamation points in it, but Petey had chalked it up to nothing more than good manners.   According to Dorothea, however, Stephanie truly loved it and thought the gesture was 'so chill'.

The affection she felt for the mother and daughter duo was a little bit strange, although there was really no reason for it to be.  It wasn’t like she was actually involved with Jon and, at the moment, she was grateful for that fact.  He brooded all evening, just like at the Christmas party.  Also just like the Christmas party, the only time he looked or acted like himself was when they had their instruments in hand and were playing for the sheer enjoyment of it.  

Their impromptu jam session was a variety of songs, sometimes not even full songs - just bits and pieces of them.  She loved the camaraderie and easiness between the men, working as individual pieces of one effortless unit.  They were in the middle of a rendition of the Beatles’ “Hey Jude” when the sounds of shouting and honking horns filtered through from the main part of the club.

It was midnight.

“Petey.”  Richie crooked his finger at her, his shining eyes a reminder of her promise.  She smiled and ducked her head in acknowledgement, rising from her seat to climb up on the platform and stand before his stool.  Placing her hand in his outstretched one, she succumbed to his gentle tug and leaned forward to hover over his upturned face.

“Come on,” he coaxed softly.  “I won’t bite you.”

Taking a deep breath, she inclined her head and touched his lips in a kiss so light that it almost didn’t happen.  Richie’s smiled, his fingers brushed her cheek tenderly, and he whispered, “Happy New Year, pretty Dark Angel.”

“Happy New Year,” she returned, resuming her upright position.  Out of the corner of her right eye, she saw that Jon had his head turned in their direction.  Shifting her full attention toward him, she found that he was glowering at her.  There was no doubt in Petey’s mind as to why, but she feigned ignorance and smiled.  “Happy New Year, Jon.”

The fierceness fled his features and he offered a slight, cordial nod as well-wishes were spread about the room.

Half an hour and several drinks later, Jon found himself propped in the doorway.  From beneath hooded eyes, he looked out over the assortment of people closest to him and speculated as to what the new year held for them all. 

During his silent musing, Dottie slid by with the brush of a hand across his bicep.  “I left my phone in the car.  I'm going to call the kids.  Be right back.”

He nodded without speaking.

Seeing her with Tony had gotten progressively easier throughout the evening.  When she was with his brother, she reminded him of a younger Dottie – a more carefree Dottie who had been completely enamored with Jon back in the day.  It was bittersweet, but he was glad that someone was able to put that twinkle back in her eyes.  For his part, Tony was just as besotted, his eyes and hands never straying far from her. 

It was obvious that they were in love.

His eyes slid to Petey as she rose from her seat beside Richie, and moved toward the door.  The sway of her rounded hips and the slight jiggle of her bosom as she walked the room speared him in the gut.  Jon experienced a rush of testosterone along with the overpowering need to prove that he affected her the same way. 

She was sidling through the narrow opening with a murmured, “Excuse me,” when he allowed his fingers to unobtrusively scrape along the nylon spiderwebs enshrouding her thigh.  “The last time you wore these,” he murmured without pulling his gaze from across the room.  “I ate your pussy.”

“Don’t,” she said just as quietly, pushing at his hand and moving past him.

Jon stepped gracefully around the edge of the doorway and locked his fingers around her upper arm.  Before she had a chance to protest, he had pulled her away from prying eyes, and into the small alcove beside the bathrooms. 

“Kiss me, Petey,” he ordered hoarsely, his lips a scant inch away from the pink bow that had haunted him for weeks.  He knew he should be sweet-talking her instead of making demands, but he couldn’t help himself.  She did things to him that no one else did.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion and annoyance.  “What the hell’s the matter with you?  Are you drunk?”

“Dammit,” he hissed, tightening his grip on her arm.  “I saw you kiss Richie.  I’ve had the rest of you, and now I want your mouth.  Kiss me.”

Her forehead wrinkled more deeply and she sighed, giving him the same expression he used when Romeo was being obstinate.   “No, Jon.”

It was not the answer he wanted to hear, and he saw red.   As he always did when he was furious, he said unforgivable things.  “Fine,” he spat.  “But do you think you could at least do me the courtesy of not fucking every one of my friends while you’re fucking me?”  The sharp, bitter words had reached out and slapped her before Jon could call them off the tip of his tongue. 

He’d gotten used to being responsible for color flooding her cheeks, but this was the first time he’d caused her to go completely ashen.

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”  Icicles dripped from each word, and the air around them dropped a good ten degrees in the Arctic chill.  “After that eloquently stated request, I’ll never fuck you again.”  Pivoting sharply on the high heel of her boot, Petey tried to escape, but he was faster and more determined.

“Petey, stop,” he pleaded with self-disgust, hand wrapped firmly around her wrist.  He swore under his breath and met her eyes with remorse.  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Oh?”  It had been a long time since her eyebrow piercing had glinted that ominously at him.  “Funny, I’m not familiar with all the various interpretations of that particular phrase.  Please.  Enlighten me.”

Shoving a free hand through his hair, he devoted his next twenty seconds to memorizing the burgundy tile covering the floor while he scrambled for a way to explain himself. 

“I’m waiting.”

Her rushing him wasn’t helping matters.  He hated to be rushed.

“I don’t share well,” was what Jon finally settled for.  It was true.  That could easily be corroborated by everyone in the room behind them.

“Jesus, Jon,” she huffed in disgust.  “How many times are we going to go down this road?  I’m not yours to share.  We don’t have a relationship.  ”

Do or die time, Bongiovi.

He gently stroked the inside of her wrist and murmured, “What if I want one?”

Petey’s heart stilled along with her body, breath frozen in her throat.  In that instant, she wanted to say ‘yes’ and throw her arms around him, acting like a clingy, stereotypical girl.  She wanted it more fiercely than she wanted air to once again pass through her frozen lungs.  And who knew?  Maybe she would.

 If it were true. 

But it wasn’t.  She knew it wasn’t. 

“Then you’d have to learn how to manage your embarrassment at the thought of being seen with me in public.”  She didn’t allow him a second to refute it with some lame excuse.  “Fortunately for you, I’m not interested in you that way,” she lied blithely.  It didn’t matter whether she loved him or not, Petey wasn’t going to allow him to use her for a verbal punching bag anymore.  “So there’s no need to put forth the effort.”

She firmly shook his hand off and teetered her way into the ladies' room, irritated beyond all reason when the automatic door closer wouldn’t allow it to slam shut.