7 - Surprise!

“Petra, if you don’t tell me what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is going on, I’m going to tear up these freeping tickets.”

To substantiate her diabolical threat, Delaney whipped the two printed pieces of cardstock from her back pocket and pushed them in Petra’s face.  At her wits' end, she gripped the edges and poised for destruction if she didn’t get an explanation for the past few hours.   

It was easy to be dramatic when it was only the two of them and half a dozen employees in the near-deserted front concourse of Madison Square Garden. 

“You realize you’re forty-seven years old, right?” her twin scorned before using ninja-like prowess to snatch the tickets and drop them in the safety of her cavernous Coach bag.  “It’s not a crime to say ‘fuck’ or any of its eight thousand derivatives.”

“Oh, go lick a duck,” she snarled, thoroughly peeved by the sleight of hand that left her powerless. It wasn’t like she was going to destroy access to her evening’s entertainment, anyway, but she’d had to do something.  Petra had been acting a different shade of weird since the encounter with Jon Bon Jovi and his son this afternoon.

It turned out that Delaney was right about Jake liking the hydrangea and hellebores arrangement.  His only complaint was that it was “too scrawny”.  He wanted to leave no doubt in Mom’s mind that he had gone to great, painful lengths in securing a gift that was impressive enough for her.  Dear old Dad didn’t agree or disagree but said the teen was boss on this deal, so they arranged for Delaney to custom-design and deliver a grander version on Saturday. 

Sadly, there was no further mention of Make-A-Wish trips, song dedications or soundcheck.  When she returned his credit card receipt, Jon merely thanked her and off-handedly remarked that he hoped they enjoyed tonight’s show. 

The bell over the door was still tinkling with their departure when Petra pounced with the intensity of a starving alley cat spotting its mousey dinner.  “What time will Marilee be back?  Do you have any other employees you can call to work?  Surely to God you have more than one fucking person scheduled today.”

“Marilee will be back when she is, and I do have more than one person scheduled, Bossy Pants.  Macie should be here any minute.”  Drawing her brow into a distrustful scowl, she abandoned her aggressive womb-mate to assist the customer who’d come in during the Bongiovi visit. 

She’d barely gotten a chance to speak to the woman, however.  The very second Macie darkened the doorstep, Petra was ushering her over to assume the sale, contritely explaining that Delaney had a family emergency.  She asked the woman to excuse them and sang praises about Macie’s floral knowledge as they shuffled away.

The harsh grip on her elbow left Delaney no choice but to follow along like a confused sheep, and she was swiftly shepherded through the divider curtain.  It was still flapping in their wake when Petra demanded, “What are you wearing to the concert?”

“Uh, hello!  You just made my paying customer seem like an inconvenience.  What’s your problem?”

“Fine.  I’m sorry for interfering with your sale.  Make something nice for Sean’s mom and I’ll give you my credit card.  Problem solved.  Now what are you wearing?”

Delaney threw exasperated hands in the air.  “I don’t know!  Maybe this.”

Disdainful eyes rapidly catalogued the rhinestone Bon Jovi tee, ripped jeans and tattered sneakers.  “Oh, hell no.  Absolutely not.  Get your purse, because we’re going shopping.”

“I don’t have a purse, nor time to go shopping.  It’s Mother’s Day week and there are at least twenty orders waiting to be filled.” 

Oversized sunglasses came out of the Coach bag before Petra looped it over her forearm.  “That works out better for me, anyway.  Less time wasted arguing over what’s appropriate concert-wear.  Just give me your debit card.  Did you bring your makeup to work, and please, God, tell me you’re going to do something with your damn hair?  Did you even shower today?” 

Delaney’s temper spiked at the barrage of criticism, even though she hadn’t showered yet today.  This was over the top, even for Petra.  “I was planning on leaving early to go home and get ready.”

“You do not have time to go all the way to motherfucking Queens and back,” came the flat declaration.  “Don’t worry about it.  I’ll take care of everything.  You just be ready to walk out the door at three.”

“Petra, that’s only two hours from now!  The opening act doesn’t go on until seven-thirty.”

With a quiet huff of displeasure, the sunglasses were pushed down Petra’s nose so that two pairs of tempestuous gray irises clashed. “Stop fucking arguing with me and get your shit done before three.  Trust me on this one, Laney.  You will not regret it.”

Her assurance came with such uncommon – albeit fierce – sincerity that Delaney couldn’t make herself argue.   There were too many other things that needed her attention, so she agreed to be ready at the designated hour and passed over her debit card. 

Promptly at three, a hired car whisked her away to Petra’s Murray Hill townhouse like Cinderella preparing for the rock music ball.   Her repeated questions were ignored until she finally got tired of asking and decided to make the best of it.  There was nothing wrong with looking good for a concert when there was an excellent chance she’d be locking eyes with the lead singer, after all.

Saying it was a good thing they shared the same complexion, her sister presented an arsenal of cosmetics and beauty supplies with the invitation to use them liberally.  After the fastest shower on record, Delaney’s eyes were smudged with smoke and her hair dried and brushed until it shone in a silky curtain.  Petra’s high heels clicked over the bathroom tile, and she nodded with satisfaction before presenting tonight's newly purchased outfit.   

It was completely different from the black leggings and leopard print blouse Petra wore, thank God.  In their clothing as in everything else, the sisters resided at opposite ends of the spectrum, and Delaney was pleased to discover that her ensemble suited both her taste and personality.   

The jeans were fashionably distressed and fit her like a glove, as did the black leather moto jacket.  Both would become staples of her wardrobe.  

The black sleeveless surplice top not so much, but its deep v-neck was perfect to showcase the necklace she borrowed from Petra.   A cascade of wavy loops resembling silver rubber bands fell just short of meeting cleavage and complemented both her host of rings and the jacket’s hardware. 

The borrowed ankle boots that Petra doggedly foisted on her were the only source of contention between the sisters.  

Delaney thought the high heels were cute but knew they'd become uncomfortable after a couple of hours on her feet, so she petitioned for flat shoes.  Petra initially wouldn’t budge, saying that Delaney would feel more put together with the boots, but after much bickering, a pair of black sandals made their way into the purse for “during the concert when nobody can see your feet”. 

It killed her, but Delaney had to admit her sister was right.  She looked and felt great – even if it was still a frustrating mystery as to why they were in front of a closed Will Call window three hours before showtime.

“Hello?”  Tired of watching the guy sweep the floor, Delaney’s patience reached the breaking point, and she snatched away the phone that had been glued to her sister’s hand for the past ten minutes.  “Why are we here?”

Ignoring the question – again – Petra posed her own questions.  “Do you have your phone?  Debit card?  ID?”

“At this point, what difference does it make if I say no?”  Incredulous, Delaney shook her head while surreptitiously patting her back pockets for those items.  Phone and plastic were all present and accounted for.  “It’s not like you’re going to let me leave to go get them.  Not after being psychotically determined to drag me here at such a ridiculous time.” 

“If you don’t have them, I’m stuck with taking pictures, buying your drinks and making sure you get home.  I’m just trying to plan accordingly.” 

The put-upon air irritated her until she got sidetracked by her sister’s furtively darting eyes.  They flicked left and right, hesitating for a second here, lingering for a moment there.  It was unsettling, and Delaney turned to scan their surroundings, finding the sparsely-populated concourse the same as it was five minutes ago. 

Unfortunately, the lack of vigilance meant she lost custody of the phone to Petra’s quick hands, and it went swiftly into the Coach abyss.   Her twin's gaze had finally found a sticking point, and she plastered on what Delaney thought of the “Congressman’s Wife” smile.  It was meant to be open and engaging, offering the recipient a sense of warmth, but Delaney knew the look in those eyes. 

Petra saw much more than the woman that approached them.  She had her eye on the “big picture”. 

Muttering quietly, Delaney turned to stand at her side for the greetings. 

“Hi, you must be Sandy.  I’m Petra, and this is my sister Delaney.”

About their age and wearing a black Bon Jovi polo, Sandy was congenial, shaking the offered hand.  “Nice to meet you both.  Do you have your show tickets?”

“I do.”  The Congressman’s Wife cranked up the smile a notch, effortlessly producing the requested tickets from the bowels of her bag.  Delaney marveled at the ability to find anything in a purse that size.  It took her more time to locate her phone in her pocket than Petra needed to pull out those tickets. 

Sandy gave them a quick once-over and nodded approvingly.  “Perfect.  While you stick these on your shirts, I’ll find someone to take you back.”

She passed them both octagonal stickers bordered in red, that strongly resembled stop signs.  These were more complex than a simple S-T-O-P, however.  Like the signage from the dressing room hallway yesterday, they bore the latest album’s artwork, and it was overlaid with text stating “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame 2018 Inductees, Bon Jovi, This House is Not For Sale, 2018 Tour”.  Below that, the word “GUEST” was prominently displayed along with a white box in which someone had written “MSG”, today’s date and “JBJ”. 

Delaney’s stomach did a flip that reminded her she hadn’t eaten today, but her sister was calmly applying the sticker as instructed.  This was clearly not rocking her world as violently as it was Delaney's.

While their contact was busy on the phone, she leaned in to hiss, “Petra…  Where in the freep are they taking us?”

One side of the evil twin's mouth kicked up in a satisfied smirk before she softly murmured, “Surprise!  We’re going to soundcheck.”

{{{

“Matt!” 

Drawing up short, Jon’s brother backtracked to reappear in the open dressing room door.  “What’s up?”

“Remember the girl who brought these?”  Jon used the capped end of his Sharpie to indicate the flowers that hadn't set off his allergies yet, so they were still sitting on the coffee table.  

“Yeah.  Hall of Fame.  Or Bounce.  Dave and I are still trying to decide.”

He could feel an annoyed furrow digging between his eyebrows.  "Neither.  Decision made.  Now, she and her sister are coming to soundcheck.  Take care of ‘em.”

Lack of a response had him believing that his brother had given silent assent and gone on his merry way.  It was the the subtle sound of movement drew his attention from the scribbled preliminary setlist to find the big man leaning against the doorjamb with prying eyes. 

“What?”

“That’s what I wanna know.  What brought this on?”

Blowing a short breath out his nose, Jon went back to his setlist wondering whether he even needed to consider the flower girl – Delaney – in the mix.  Admission to soundcheck should relieve him of any lingering obligation.  She’d said her wish was already granted before he offered up pre-show admittance.   He was golden.

Still…  She’d asked for a song on two separate occasions. 

Tapping the end of his marker on the notepad, he skimmed down the list of songs.  It was pretty solid, and he could always pull an audible out of his ass if necessary.  Jon had nearly convinced himself to let it go when he remembered something that had him scribbling in one more tune.

Score is settled.  Done.

“Hey.  You gonna answer me?  I saw her in the audience last night but didn’t realize you two talked after.”

“We didn’t.”  With a cutting glance, Jon admitted, “Jake and I stopped in her store today to pick out some flowers.”

Little brother’s eyebrows flew high, etching a music staff of lines across his forehead.  “What’s Jake need flowers for?”

“Mother’s Day.” 

“So…  Lemme get this straight.  You took your kid to see a broad about flowers for your wife?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake.  Don’t try and twist it into reality TV.” 

He'd wanted to apologize, the kids needed a gift, the flowers proved she could provide said gift, so Jon went to the address on the card.  It was a natural chain of events that led to his chat and discovery of the sisters' interest in soundcheck.  He was a nice fucking guy.  End of story. 

He was also not in the habit of explaining himself, so all that went unsaid while he rose and fished a chiming phone from his pocket.  Delaney and Petra had arrived. 

“They’re waiting at Will Call.  Get ‘em and play escort for me.”

“Yeah, boss.  Whatever you say.”  Matt didn’t even try and squelch his amusement.  “You gonna tell me her name so I don’t look like a dumbass?”

“Delaney.  The twin is Petra.” Jon shoved his arms into the jacket that prevented him from freezing his ass off during rehearsal, but the resounding belly laugh that echoed off the walls had him abandoning the zipper to challenge, “What the hell’s so funny?”

“Yeah, what the hell’s so funny?”  David squawked like a curly-headed parrot as he popped around Matt’s bicep.  “That we’re skipping soundcheck, I hope?”

“Fat fucking chance, Lema.”

The keyboardist sighed dramatically at Jon’s denial while Matt eagerly revealed, “Hall of Fame is coming to soundcheck – with her twin sister.”

“Twins?”  Dave perked up like a woman in a shoe store.  “Damn, man.  I didn’t think you still had it in you to entertain twins.  At least now we don’t have to decide between nicknames.  One is Bounce, the other is Hall of Fame.”

“Jesus Christ.  It’s not fuckin' like that.”  They were just people, not potential conquests, and neither of those names fit Petra.  Delaney was the only twin he might not mind getting to know.  “Matt, go get my goddamn guests.  Lema, get your ass onstage.”

“Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.” David’s speculation floated down the hall faster than Jon’s stride could escape it.  “Did you add the song ‘Bounce’ to tonight’s setlist?  Seems very apropos, if ya ask me.”

Jon lifted his "very apropos" Jersey salute to the rafters.

Next post: Sunday, August 12th