26 - Bump in the Night

“Mmph.” 

Delaney rolled over in bed expecting to encounter more mattress but wound up with a pillow in her face.  Frowning without opening her eyes, she patted the pillow to find out it wasn’t the other one on her queen-sized bed.  It wasn’t any pillow at all.  She was on a freeping couch, and man, did she have to pee.

Turning her head away from the smothering cushion, she found that in addition to having an agonized bladder, there was also a faint throb in the center of her forehead.   This was not the worst she’d ever woken up, but it wasn’t fan-freaking-tastic.  She squinted both eyes open, expecting to find sunshine and daylight but there was none.  The room was shrouded in darkness cut only by a diffused light bleeding through the windows. 

Where was she?  Something that should’ve come instinctively refused to gel in the addled brain that tapped against the inside of her skull. 

Sitting up only made the need for a bathroom more urgent and the tapping more insistent. She groaned at finding her legs pinned down by a blanket and tried to kick it away.  The plan was to put her feet on the floor and heed Mother Nature’s call, but there was a roadblock foiling her plan.  Extending a hand to pat it down, she identified a footstool.

“You take one end and I’ll take the other.  That way we can share the footstool.”

“Ohhhh nooo,” she whispered into the darkness, fighting to get free from the cover that was holding her feet hostage.  The one that Jon had evidently put over her when she fell asleep – after kissing him.

Crustacean crudsuckers on a cracker.

She freeping fell asleep! 

The last thing she remembered was Jon saying he had to take a leak.  As soon as he’d reached the other room, she hugged one of the throw cushions to her chest for a languid stretch of ecstasy and beamed up at the ceiling.  He’d kissed her, and Delaney closed her eyes to relive the moment, starting with his toe-curling, “Answer the goddamn question”.

That was as far as she'd gotten in her replay of events.  There was nothing but blank space between there and this unidentified moment in the middle of the night when she still longed to feel his tongue against hers.  Everything was so blank that she experienced a fleeting concern about a new onset of amnesia. 

One thing was not fleeting, however – the insistence of her body to evacuate its overdose of Hampton Water.  That was a problem since the suite’s bathroom was inside the bedroom where Jon presumably slept.

I can’t go in his bedroom to pee.

Delaney also couldn’t go in a wineglass and had no room key. 

It would take forever to wake Petra and Pearl with her knocking, and she’d probably end up piddling on Ritz Carlton’s carpet before getting inside her own room.  Going to the front desk for a replacement key would take too long, and before she could use it, her panties would be wet in a way that was nothing close to arousing.

Both scenarios were way more embarrassing than sneaking past a sleeping Jon to go potty.   There really was no choice to be made here.

“Duck me.”

Taking a deep breath and shaking free of the tentacled covers, she felt her way around the footstool as her eyes acclimated to the dimness.  Darker shadows offered a hint about furniture placement, and she ran light fingertips along the sofa edge to find that he’d left the bedroom door cracked.  At least she wouldn’t have to worry about the noise of opening and closing it.

She put a palm against the wood and noiselessly eased open the door.  All was well and good until Delaney slipped inside and triggered a nightlight to life.  She couldn’t swallow her squeak of surprise fast enough and froze, sliding panicked eyes to the lumpy shadow in bed. 

When there was no movement, she released a quiet breath and decided that the nightlight was a good thing.  It led her right to the open bathroom door, which rattled on the track when it turned out to be a slider instead of a traditional hinged door.

I’m going to wake up the whole flippin’ hotel before this is over.

Jon didn’t stir, though, and she finally managed to seal herself in the bathroom with a prayer that the light around the edges wouldn’t cause any more disruption to his sleep than the nightlight had.  Dancing from one foot to the other, she tapped the light switch – only to find out that she wasn’t in the bathroom.  It was a mother flocking walk-in closet. 

Delaney anxiously scanned the enclosed area, noting a couple of hanging shirts before she spotted a second doorway.  Desperate by this time, she smacked the wall inside of the doorway to flood the room with light, and behold… singing angels heralded the throne. 

Seriously, though.  Who puts the bathroom inside the closet? 

She didn’t even care that the door rattled on the track this time.  Her biggest concern was getting the tight jeans shucked down her legs before it was too late, and when Delaney’s fanny hit the heated – yes, heated – seat, she sighed with relief and relief. 

Everything went smoothly after that, with the exception of a toilet flush that was powerful enough to launch a torpedo.  Honestly, if Jon wasn’t awake by the time she got out of here, the man could sleep through a hurricane. 

Delaney washed her hands in one of the two sinks and, after catching sight of herself in the mirror, wished for him to sleep through it all.  She looked rough.  Mascara flakes, smudged eyeliner and a pillow-creased cheek didn’t create an impression she wanted to leave, and she neatly folded the hand towel before half-heartedly attempting to tidy her hair.

“It’s the middle of the night.  You’re supposed to look like a hag,” she muttered to the reflection that hadn’t improved any and ran a glass of water that she downed in three gulps.  With any luck, it would deter the teeny tiny hangover headache that pecked more diligently at her forehead.  “Now go to your room.”

The bathroom light went black at a touch of the switch, leaving her in a darkness that required a moment for her eyes to adjust.  Once she was comfortable that navigating her way back out of here would be possible with only the aid of the automated nightlight, she slid the bathroom door open. 

It only took a couple of steps to reach the slider separating closet and bedroom, and the cool handle was under her touch in seconds.  She was more careful in opening it this time, making sure it slid noiselessly over the track and didn’t bump against the end.

Feeling rather pleased with her stealthiness, Delaney crossed into the bedroom – and smashed her little toe on the door.  What came next couldn’t be swallowed like her earlier squeak, and the yelp of pain broke the night silence with the effectiveness of an air raid siren. 

Embarrassing moment number nine-thousand three-hundred thirty-two in her life was engraved with a flourish when the black shadow of Jon’s form jerked upright in bed, croaking, “Mou?  That you?”

Moo?  Who’s Moo?

“It’s Delaney.  Sorry,” she apologized sotto voce, even though he was obviously awake and speaking normally wouldn’t make him more awake.

“You ok?”

 “Yeah. Just stubbed my toe.  Go back to sleep.”

Please go back to sleep, and for God’s sake don’t turn on a light.

“You leaving?”

She was halfway out the bedroom door already.  “As soon as I get my shoes.  Sorry about passing out.  G’night.”

“Mm.  S’ok.”  Delaney wasn’t sure of the details, but his arm definitely moved.  He may have wiped a hand over his face.  “There’s a bag on the desk by the door.  Grab it on your way out.”

The mannerly thing would have been to agree and escape so that the man could sleep.   She was not her sister, however, so Delaney paused to inquire, “What is it?”

“Pearl’s towel,” he told her through a yawn.  “And something for you.  I expected to give it to you in person and explain, so not sure the note makes sense.  When in doubt, laugh.  Night, baby.”

Jon settled back into the mattress with a soft groan as Delaney's heart melted at the meaningless endearment.  Uttered in a sleep-roughened voice, it was sexy enough to make his kiss seem like the nothing he'd said it would be.

Stop fantasizing about what he's wearing under those covers and get out of here.

Delaney bid him goodnight with a soft, “Kalìnìxta.”

She had the bedroom door closed and her shoes on in under a minute.  Another ten seconds allowed her to pick up the bag and five more had the suite door clicking softly shut as she stepped into the hallway.

Still completely oblivious to the time, Delaney opted to bypass the front desk for a new key.  Going down only a couple of floors instead of the lobby would limit the number of witnesses to her walk of shame, no matter how innocent it was.

The only question on her mind when boarding the elevator was whether to investigate the bag’s contents now or to wait. 

Who was she kidding?  The man had promised to alter his show format so that it was okay to kiss her.  Nothing was going to top that, but Delaney was dying to know what was in the smaller version of the Bon Jovi merchandise bag she had at home – the one Petra said he’d used to give her the maracas. 

Based on size, this bag didn’t appear to hold maracas, and a quick glance inside revealed nothing but the blue hand towel he sent for Pearl.  Whatever he’d gotten Delaney was underneath. 

“’Character is what you do when no one is watching’,” she quoted under her breath while pushing a hand into the bottom of the bag.  “Tonight, my character is an impatient toddler.”

The doors slid open at her floor just as Delaney unearthed a black, square box that easily fit in her palm.  There were no distinguishing marks to provide a clue about its contents, she noted and stepped from the elevator into a deserted hallway. 

Her room was only three doors down, but her boots didn’t travel far enough to reach even the first one.  No way was she waiting for Pearl or Petra’s cranky butt to let her in before finding out what was in the box. 

The brown paper bag crinkled when she tucked it under arm with the towel still inside.  She needed both hands to separate the halves of the box, and when she did, it was to find a folded piece of paper on top of a foam pad. 

Maybe now you’ll remember me.  ~J

That didn’t offer much hint about the gift, so Delaney pushed it into the box top and lifted the pad. 

Underneath was a ring.  More accurately, there were five rings lashed together in a stack to appear as one ring.   All were silver and comparable to the assortment she would wear on any given day – one was plain except for the hammered texture they all bore, two displayed a single leaf each and two more had a single flower each.

Frowning with confusion, Delaney turned it over in her fingers.

The piece was beautifully Bohemian and something she would choose for herself, but why had he chosen it?  She saw nothing that warranted his cryptic note or the reminder to laugh when in doubt. 

Think, Ditzy.  What are you missing?

Flowers.  Florist.  No brainer, there.  She wore rings, and he’d plainly noticed.

Wait.  What kind of flowers are they?

The native color of the plant would’ve been a dead giveaway, but the fact that they were cast of silver made it more challenging.   Petal shape was her only clue, and when Delaney applied it to her mental database of flowers, she came up with...

Forget-me-nots.

She snorted softly.  It grew to a quiet chuckle, and the chuckle became a giggle she swallowed to keep from waking any of the guests. Was it really that funny or was she still feeling the Hampton Water?  Maybe a bit of both, she decided when slipping the ring on her left thumb to admire the design.

Not only was Jon Bon Jovi sexy, nice, and had the softest lips she’d ever kissed, he also had a wicked sense of humor. 

It really was a shame the man was married.