36 - Inconsequential

“Oh God.  I’m miserable,” Delaney bemoaned, pressing a hand against her bloated stomach. 

“I’m miserable from just watching you eat that half a pizza, most of a salad and slice of cheesecake.  Christ woman.  Your metabolism must be incredible.”

“Not especially.  I only eat like a truck driver after sex, so it's not exactly a regular habit.”

It hadn’t escaped her notice that he only had salad, one slice of pizza and a couple of the berries off her cheesecake.  She refused to feel guilty, though.  It had been ages since she had Uncle Paul’s special proscuitto, arugula and mozzarella pie, and it couldn’t be eaten without the Caprese salad.  Then cheesecake was just a natural conclusion.  What was an Italian food fest without the creamy finale? 

“With that kind of muscle tone, you have to work out,” he observed over his wineglass. 

They were on their second bottle and Delaney was starting to find him awfully cute with a knee bent so that one bare foot was on the dining chair next to his butt.  Casually slouched to give his furry tummy the slightest bulge, he was ridiculously hot with that drool-worthy chest and sex hair that hadn’t been combed. 

It was helpful that his personality didn’t suck, either. 

Reinforcing her claim to Petra that he was a man and not a commodity, when Delaney talked with him, she always discovered something new.  Tonight, so far, it was that he always made time for his kids.  When Jesse called to discuss business, Jon apologized but took the time needed to work through a wine business issue and follow up with how his son was doing personally.  He asked about both a roommate and an upcoming party before bidding the boy goodnight with a gruff, “Love you, kid.”

She also found out they had things in common that she hadn’t expected – like a love for Rocky movies and a distaste for the high-tech trend the industry had taken.  He treated her to stories about being on a set with actual actors instead of computer-generated ones, and revealed how much he’d enjoyed the experience while learning to appreciate the craft. 

The man seemed to know something about everything and was interested in whatever topic she introduced.  He got mega points for asking about the nuts and bolts of her business.  The points doubled when he proved he’d been listening by offering thoughtful suggestions that she actually took to heart and planned to implement.

He was seriously perfect, and she still couldn’t fathom what might be behind the break-up of his marriage.  That was something she looked forward to the unveiling of, but Delaney kept her end of the bargain.  Tonight wasn’t for discussing divorces and tattoos. 

“I don’t work out the way you mean.  Not with weights and all that.  I like rock climbing.”

“Rock climbing?”

“Yeah.”  She grinned impishly at him and drained what had to be at least her fourth glass of wine.  “Little people enjoy towering above the world, you know.”

“Where the fuck do you go rock climbing in New York City?” His cheeks were becoming ruddy, and Delaney thought he might be a Hampton Water serving or two ahead of her.  Jon snuck in at least one extra one while she was stuffing her face, but since he was being so generous with his “real” smile, she didn’t harbor ill feelings over the inequity. 

“There are lots of places, but I go to a gym near my apartment.  I’m hoping to get out of town for a few days this summer and head for the Adirondacks, though, for the real deal.”

“That sounds cool.  Maybe I’ll tag along, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” she agreed with a shrug, not believing it would really happen.   By the time she got around to making plans, he may have changed his number to avoid her.  “Hey, I have a question.”

“Okay.”

Tucking her hair behind one ear, she drew one leg up under her in the chair and posed something that had been on her mind since before Montreal. 

“Why’d you put your phone number in the maracas?”

Light brows shot high atop rounded eyes.  “Is this a serious question?  ‘Cause I gotta say, I thought you were a helluva lot smarter than that.”

“Okay, fine.  Let me rephrase,” she offered easily.  “What was the scene in your mind when you put that piece of tape on there?  Did you think I was going to find it accidentally?  You obviously didn’t know my sister was going to be a pain in the fanny and require your intervention.  So… what?”

Pastel wine sloshed prettily from side to side in the bowl of his glass as it hit the table so he could fold both hands on his stomach.  “It was insurance.  I knew I’d be coming after you.  Not anticipating your accident, I also believed it would be a while before that happened.  You, little Mou, are the type to call a guy on his bullshit.  The idea was that, if you tried calling it on how long I’d planned to make you mine, I had the number as proof.”

It wasn’t so much what he said – okay, maybe it was – but the way he held her eyes when saying it….  Delaney’s insides knotted for reasons completely unrelated to her trucker appetite.  Jon wasn’t kidding. 

“Jeez,” she groaned rubbing a brisk palm over her thighs to flatten the goosebumps overtaking them.  “I kinda feel like I’m going to get hit by a taxi on the way home or something.  This is all a little too Cinderella for a simple girl from Queens.”

A quick frown streaked over his mouth before he reclaimed the abandoned wineglass with a shake of the head.  “Nothin’ Cinderella about it, baby.  I ain’t no fuckin’ Prince Charming.  I’m just a guy from Jersey who works hard at makin’ a living and tries to do the right thing.  That’s all.”

There were so many things Delaney longed to say, and none of them were appropriate.  Repeating that she liked him was silly.  Confessing that she had a crush on him wasn’t much better.  Appreciating his humility seemed too fangirly.  Assuring him that he was so much more than he’d just given himself credit for felt like overstepping her boundaries.  Did he need that reassurance?  Surely not. 

What the freep do I say?

She was saved the excruciating pain of that decision when a cellphone pealed into the silence.  It provided the perfect opening for her to smile and boast, “Told you I brought it.” 

“So you did.  But do you have any ID?”

Rising with a chuckle, she went to get the singing phone from her bag while admitting, “I honestly don’t know.  Maybe.”

“S’ok.  I’ll vouch for your identity.  People believe shit I say for some reason.”

The chuckle turned to a full laugh at both his self-deprecation and her caller’s identity.  “This is Pearl, and I have a feeling she wants to tell me about the latest news in your life.  You mind if I put it on speaker and mess with her a little?”

“Nah, go ahead.”

“Make up whatever you want when I nod at you,” she coached as he poured himself more wine.  “Don’t be stingy with that.  Give me some more, too.”

His grin was one that anybody would covet being on the receiving end of, simply because of its genuineness.  “I’ve got a couple more bottles.  Answer the fucking phone.”

Sticking her tongue out at him, Delaney tapped the speaker button.  “Hey, Pearl.  What’s up?”

“Girl!” Her friend’s voice filled the suite’s dining area with a monotone cry.  “Have you seen the news?  Or TMZ?  Or any media outlet anywhere?”

“No,” she replied honestly, resuming her seat at the table and pushing back the Styrofoam cheesecake box to accept her wine.  “Why?  Are we under attack?”

“Shit, no.  It’s way more interesting than that.  Boyfriend is getting a divorce!”

“Boyfriend who?”

Baby blue eyes rolled toward the ceiling as Jon hunched over the table and propped his forearms on it. 

“Jon Motherfucking Bon Jovi, you twit!”

“Oh, him.  Yeah, I did hear that.”  Nonchalance was the name of the game, but with four – and a half – glasses of wine in her, it was hard stifling the laughter.

“Petra called you, didn’t she?  That biyotch stole my thunder.”

“Actually…”  Her gaze met that of the man who watched her steadily, with amusement crinkling the outsides of his eyes.  “She may have mentioned it, but Jon actually stopped by the shop this afternoon.”

“Shut.  The fuck.  Up!  His Royal Hotness came to tell you in person?  Holy shitsticks!  What did he say?  I need actual words here Delaney.”

Grinning across the table, she drew her eyebrows into consternation as though giving it great thought.  “I don’t remember.  What was it you said, Jon?”

“I think I apologized for not telling you sooner,” he mused over Pearl’s incredibly loud gasp.  “Then I asked you to join me for dinner, because I’d been thinking about you non-stop since we met.  Something like that.”

“Oh, you bitch!  You’re naked with him right now, aren’t you?”

Throwing her head back with a delighted peal of laughter, Delaney reveled in her high-strung friend’s agitation.  “No.  I’m wearing his shirt, though.”

“And spending the night,” he supplied supportively with a slow wink that made her tingle.

“Right.  I almost forgot that.” That wasn’t possible, and Delaney blew a playful kiss at him so he knew it.  “Oh, and, Pearl?  I found out why Dave was calling me ‘Bounce’.  It has to do with being Jon’s rebound girl.”

“There aren’t enough expletives to express my irritation, excitement and envy.”  The other woman’s sigh hissed over the speaker to hang in the air.  “Damn, girl.  TMZ doesn’t know half the story.”

Delaney had a sudden and very real fear that her sense of humor was going to come back and bite her butt with rabies-infested teeth.  “For God’s sake, don’t go blabbing this to anybody!  I should’ve led with that, but I’m a little drunk and wanted to yank your chain so I didn’t.”

“I am wounded, Delaney.”  Pearl was as melodramatic as they came when she chose to be, even if there wasn’t a drop of truth to it.  “Mortally, brutally wounded that you think I would betray your confidence that way.  Crushed.”

“No, you’re not, nutbar.  Call Petra and blab with her if you want, but nobody else.  Understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I hate how well you know me.  Hey, is he still there?”

“Still here,” he confirmed, saving Delaney the effort of responding.  “And I’m just gonna add that, the longer it takes the media to connect my name to Delaney’s, the better.  Keeping it to yourself is only gonna benefit her.”

“I’m mouthy not stupid, Mr. Rock God.  I get it and won’t say a damn word as long as you treat my girl right.  You don’t, and I’ll take your very fine ass down.  Capisce, Bongiovi?”

“Oh, for freep’s sake, Pearl!  Shut it!”

Jon cut Delaney off with a wave of the hand and quick scowl.  “Pearl knows Dave’s nickname for you.  Now tell her what I call you.”

This was going farther than she’d intended for it to.  Things were becoming serious instead of fun, but when he gestured with impatience, she obediently submitted, “You call me Mou.”

“Mou is Greek for ‘mine’, in case you didn’t know that Pearl.  Delaney’s mine and nobody mistreats one of mine – including me.  Capisce?”

There was dead air for a full ten seconds before Pearl swore breathily.  “Delaney, you are the luckiest damn bitch alive.  You treat him right, or I’ll provide proof that I give a better blow than you.  Love you, girl.  Peace out.”

Jon’s arm muscles all flexed with the motion of lifting the wineglass to his mouth, and Delaney took the opportunity to apologize.

“Sorry.  I thought it would be funny, not a ‘thing’.”

“It’s cool,” he assured her quietly.  “I wasn’t kidding about the media, though.  I want to keep them in the dark as long as possible.  If they find out we’re seeing each other the day after I’m served with divorce papers, they’ll latch onto you as the reason, and that’s just going to piss me off.”

She’d slept with him once.  She hadn’t even spent the night yet.  They hadn’t actually had a real date.  Yet, here she was, slapped in the face with the reality of being… acquainted… with a celebrity.  The pizza and cheesecake started brawling unpleasantly in her midsection. 

“I guess Dorothea finding out this soon probably isn’t a good idea either,” she murmured, reaching for what remained in the Hampton Water bottle.

“She already knows.”

Delaney’s fingers stilled around the glass neck and her gaze snapped to his, finding it oddly serene.  She wasn’t feeling all that serene herself.  “Excuse me?”

“I told her yesterday I was going to start seeing you.”   

Yeah, she really needed the rest of this wine, and its quiet gurgle sounded like the fountain of life splashing into her glass.  “And how did that go over?”

“Eh.  She wished me well and suggested I leave sooner rather than later.”  His deltoids bunched under a shrug.  “This feels a lot like one of tonight’s taboo subjects.  How about we pretend to watch a movie while I stick my hand down your panties?”

It was quite possible that she could become addicted to this pink juice of his, particularly once the media started mentioning her name.  Did she really want to spend time with him?  Really?  To echo the first words she’d ever spoken to him, was he really worth the trouble?

Don’t be an idiot.  The sex is mind-blowing, and when’s the last time you’ve had such fun being with someone?  Anyone?  Even if you never spread your legs for him again, a part of you would always miss him.  Stop being a Petra and deal.

“So, you’re really not concerned about this?”

“No.”  The firm declaration was spoken directly into her eyes.  “Worst-case scenario is that it becomes a major pain in the ass.  Everyone I care about knows you’re blameless, and I’ll live my life however I fucking please.  You’re part of that life at the moment – a part I’m enjoying very much.”

It was time to get back to their exceptionally pleasant evening, and Delaney missed the little wine buzz from earlier.  She kind of wanted it back.  Okay, not kind of.  She wanted it back and gulped an entire serving to make it happen.  When the base of her glass met the table, Jon’s narrowed eyes were brimming with mirth. 

“Jesus, is it that bad hanging out with me?”

She flipped him an impulsive middle finger to which he laughed outright.  “No, wiseacre.  You’re actually my new favorite person to get a little drunk with, and all this talk of reality was making me lose my buzz.”

“You were too busy eating and not drinking enough.  I haven’t lost mine.”

“Yeah?”  Tilting her head to one side with curiosity, she noted that his cheeks and nose were still stained with alcohol.  Those smiling eyes were also just the teeny-tiniest bit red and glassy.  “What do you wanna do with it?”

“You.”

“Ohhhh,” she purred as her dinner was warmed by wine.  Delaney consciously released the unpleasantness of things over which she had no control and encouraged what little inhibition she had to take a hike.  “You’re good – so very good – but I don’t think I can have sex without exploding in a very unpleasant way.”

“Next time, I’m taking your food away.”

She met his teasing words with a grin that felt as light as her head was starting to.  “Listen.  The post-orgasmic pig-out plan has worked just fine for me up until now.  You just recuperate faster than most men.”

“I’m fifty-six fucking years old!  If my recovery time is impressive, I wanna know who you’ve been sleeping with.  Guys at the goddamn retirement community?”

The man was adorable – a-freeping-dorable – and she didn’t care about the reporters, photographers or anybody else.  She’d live life however she freeping pleased, too, and while he was in it….  Well, she’d just endure what came with him.

“Jon?”

“What, Mou?”

Dipping her chin, she batted slightly heavy eyes in an effort to be as irresistible as he was.  “Can I come sit in your lap and just kiss you for a while?  Until I’m not a danger to myself and others?”

“I suppose so,” her handsome friend/lover/date snorted softly and put down his wine to open his arms. “C’mere.”

Because, really… as long as she got to curl against this chest and have these arms willingly fold around her…  Everything else was inconsequential.