38 - Pinkification

Spring was morphing subtly toward summer, and New Yorkers were exchanging jackets for sunglasses – including Delaney, whose ponytail swished jauntily as she strolled the sidewalk from a midday delivery down the street. 

Finals were over, but Julio was at the beach in celebration of surviving another semester, leaving her a delivery person short this week.  Since it was a Tuesday in the lull between Mother’s Day and Memorial Day, Ireland had the orders under control, so Delaney had decided to make the deliveries herself.  It was nice getting out of the shop and letting her mind mull over the last twenty-four hours. 

Never in a million years would she have believed some of her fantasies about Jon would become reality.  Never in three million years would she have believed herself to be in something that was “not a one night stand” with him.  It was a whole lot like winning the lottery without the tax implications, she decided upon entering the shop and parking a pair of dark aviators on her head. 

“It’s about damn time.”

Really, when Petra got in a snit, it was either laugh or have an aneurysm along with her, and today it felt better to laugh.  “Did I forget a lunch date or something?”

With Marilee leaning on the counter to peer haughtily over those ever-present reading glasses, and Petra leaning against the same counter with the same look and a hand propped on the hip of her black suit skirt, Delaney knew she was in trouble.  They were ticked at her.

“Uh-oh.  What did I do?”

“Apparently, you forgot to tell me you were leaving here yesterday to screw Jon Bon Jovi,” Marilee snarked.  “I guess that’s why you snuck out the back door.”

Petra jumped in with both feet to add, “And since you’re not answering your fucking phone – surprise – to tell me what happened last night, I had to haul my ass over here to find out.  You knew I’d be waiting to hear.  Why didn’t you call?”

Ah.  They were having a tizzy because their nosiness hadn’t been fed.  Not exactly a surprise, but it wouldn’t appease anybody to say she’d been too busy enjoying her cloud of happy – and setting up real estate appointments – to relay the details of her date.   That would just make Petra crankier, so she settled for leaning on the opposite side of the counter and twirling her forget-me-not thumb ring with a shrug.   

“My phone must still be in my bag.  Sorry.”

“Of course it is, but I’ve spent half my life bitching about your ditziness and I don’t choose to engage today.  Tell me about Jon.”

At last, Delaney finally knew the secret to escaping her sister’s scathing judgment.  If she’d had any idea, she would’ve stalked a celebrity before now.  Maybe.

Nah. 

“I like him,” she opted to tell her captive audience in the momentary quiet of a customer-free store.  “And he likes me.”

“Nooo!  Really?” Petra’s eyes rolled toward Marilee who shifted hers to the ceiling, and their combined sarcasm was a fourth physical presence in the room.  Thank God Pearl wasn’t here, too, or they’d all smother under the oppressive snideness.  “I got that idea yesterday.  What happened?  Why did he get divorced?  Did you sleep with him?  Is he any good?  Does he want to see you again?  Tell me something useful for God’s sake!”

The subject of sex wasn’t up for discussion, as she had never been the type to dissect her lovers or rehash a physical encounter.  There was a reason that sex was customarily between only two people, in Delaney’s opinion, and that’s because it was intensely personal and belonged within the confines of that relationship. 

Besides that, Petra would die a thousand deaths if she ever discovered the non-traditional slant to her sister’s sexual preferences.  Delaney refused to be judged for the way she was wired, especially so soon after finding a man who seemed to understand and accept it without question.

A tingle prickled the insides of thighs that were still raw from this morning’s acceptance, and she inconspicuously pressed them together to say, “Still not sure about his divorce.  We opted to avoid heavy topics last night.  We had wine and pizza, watched Die Hard and just… hung out.”

“Mm-hmm.”  Those all-knowing eyes of Marilee’s raked her from ponytail to Skechers.  “I notice you got here wearing the same clothes you left in. That usually indicates a sleepover.”

Petra frowned at the Dandelion Dreams denim shirt layered over a “Don’t flatter yourself, I only look up to you because I’m short” tee.  “She wasn’t wearing that.”

“I had this in the back and switched shirts for deliveries,” she admitted.  “And, yes, there was a sleepover.  I said we like each other, and in his words, it’s more than a one-night stand.  That’s all you get.”

“Holy shit, Jon Bon Jovi is your boyfriend.”

Delaney cringed at the covetous gleam in her sister’s eyes.  “I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it yet, but whatever the name, it’s between me and him.  Lose his phone number, Petra.  I mean it.”

“Well, if he’s not your boyfriend what is he?  Are you seeing him again?”

After another cautionary glare at the sister who hadn’t agreed to stop contacting Jon, she turned to Marilee.  “We don’t have any definite plans, but since I’m hooking him up with a realtor and tagging along to look at apartments, yeah.  I’ll see him sometime in the next couple days.”

Petra went from fiddling with her diamond pendant necklace to gouging Delaney with laser-like eyes.  “Realtor?  Oh, God.  I want to know why he isn’t moving to that massive house in Jersey, but first, please tell me you’re giving him Avery.”

“Oooooh!” Marilee cooed with evil delight.  “If she’s not, she doesn’t deserve to be sleeping with a man that fine.  She’s giving him Avery.  She has to be!  Right, Delaney?”

Avery Anstead was Manhattan’s top real estate agent, and her client list brimmed with New York’s rich and famous.  Only Madison Square Garden had housed more notable personalities than Avery, and her annual commissions were enough to earn a spot in an elite echelon of super agents who resented her very female presence.  One of her staunchest inner-office rivals was none other than Delaney’s ex-husband. 

Geoff had often complained about Avery getting sales with her looks instead of abilities, but Delaney always recognized the sour grapes for what they were.  She’d met the woman several times over the years and found her to be brilliantly astute.  There was no doubt she was an expert professional, and if she leveraged her raven beauty to get an initial meeting or push a higher-ticket property over a cheaper one, then so what?  Her clients were satisfied, and as far as Delaney knew, she’d never slept with any of them to make it happen.

That’s why, after the divorce, Delaney chose her to find an apartment and leasing space for the shop.  They may not have represented a huge commission, but having Avery’s name on the deal was a blow to Geoff’s pride.  That pleased all the women involved, and Marilee, Petra, Pearl, Delaney and Avery had a festive dinner to celebrate the closings and bash men who chased women half their age.

“Of course I am.  Duh.  She’s already got two showings booked.  I’m waiting for her to confirm another before I call Jon.”

“Oh.  My.  Word.  Can I just tell you how giddy that makes me?”  Petra’s fingers wiggled in the air as though they itched to curl around Geoff’s neck.  “Your boyfriend gets the best possible real estate in the city while your ex-husband’s bank account simultaneously gets dry-screwed.  Things are finally looking up for you, Laney.  But tell me about the house in Jersey, the Greenwich Village place and the ones in East Hampton and Florida.  What’s he doing with those?”

Disregarding the “looking up” comment, she lifted a shoulder.  “No idea.  All I know is that he’s currently living in a hotel and wants an apartment in the city.”

“You spent an entire night with the man,” her sister pointed out in disbelief.  “How can you not even think of asking these things?”

Marilee’s snort was dry as she straightened to go answer the tinkle that indicated a customer had just arrived.  “I think Delaney’s sleepover involved things more interesting than real estate.  That’s just a guess, though.”

Shooting the shop manager a look of gratitude, she quirked an eyebrow at her sister.  “Petra, I’m sorry that I don’t think the same way you do.  Okay, not really.  Let’s go with I’m sorry that I’m such a freeping disappointment to your curiosity, but you seriously need to get it through your head that I don’t give a donkey’s donuts about houses, money, fame or any of the other stuff that impresses you.  I like Jon for who he is.  Period.”

“Ahem.” 

Delaney twisted her neck to find Marilee had already returned and was subtly jerking her head to one side.  When Delaney’s eyes slid two feet to the right, it became obvious why. 

“Jesse.  Hi.”

“Hey,” he greeted with an endearingly lopsided grin and eyes that crinkled just like Jon’s.  “Sorry if this is bad timing, but it’s the first chance I’ve had to come by and follow up on the floral recommendations.  You remember, right?”

Lifting both arms from the counter, she cut a subtle glare at her twin before turning to face Jon’s son.  “Yeah.  I remember the carnations and wine,” she assured him with light laughter.  “And I promise we can find something better.”

“Then let’s do it.”

She loved the young man’s enthusiasm and his willingness to pretend he hadn’t overheard something potentially awkward.  That’s why Delaney waved a subtly pointed goodbye to her sister and escorted Jesse  to the refrigerated cases for a discussion of all things pink.

After nearly thirty minutes of chatting about wine, social media, the “pink-ification of America” and – of course – flowers, he had a much better idea of what was available to push his product in the desired direction.  The summer rosè season was fast approaching, and he mentioned gearing up for a lot of networking throughout the next three months.  

"Some of these ideas will be great for the Memorial Day weekend kick-off."

“Awesome!” Her heart stuttered but Delaney made sure her smile didn’t. 

Jesse's smile was the one that faded, and she knit curious brows while he visibly searched for words.  “I, uh....  I overheard what you were saying earlier – about my dad.”

Just freeping great.  One of these days, Petra…

“Sorry about that,” she sighed.  “I meant what I said, but it’s crappy timing for you to hear somebody likes your dad.  Considering and all… ” 

He once again fired up the endearingly lopsided smile.  “That actually wasn’t where I was going.  Mom and Dad…  Well, let’s just say nobody’s crazy about what’s happening, but we accepted it as a foregone conclusion weeks ago.”

“Oh.”  Maybe she really should find out the back-story here.  “Then where were you going?”

Cramming both hands and the shirttails of his patterned shirt into jeans pockets, his features were open and honest when looking at Delaney.  “I was just gonna say that, if you end up in the Hamptons over the holiday weekend, maybe you could bring along a couple of flower arrangements?  I think we’re going to line up a photographer and it would be nice if the tables looked good with the wine.  Kinda set the tone for summer.”

“Oh.”  Her vast vocabulary was so very impressive, but the kid kept surprising her into monosyllabic responses.  “I can’t imagine that I’d be out there, but I can contact a local shop and tell them what you want.  No problem at all.”

Not only did she not envision spending next weekend in the Hamptons, Delaney wasn’t sure she’d want to.  With Memorial Day weekend and the end of the month….

Maybe it’s just what you need to keep your mind occupied.

That was irrelevant, considering that she hadn’t been invited, and the right to issue that invitation belonged to Jon, not Jesse.    

"Okay, well… whatever you think.  Just know that you’d be welcome and appreciated, as far as I’m concerned.”  He withdrew a phone from his back pocket.  “How about giving me your number, anyway?  I’ll text you mine so we can coordinate the date and who’s doing what.  Sound cool?”

“Sounds cool,” she confirmed and, after reciting the numbers that would fulfill his request, thoughtfully folded her arms.  “If you don’t have a photographer chosen and need a recommendation, I have a friend who would love to do it.  She’d probably work for wine, too.”

Pearl would likely do the gig for a lot less than wine.  She was always lamenting not being cool enough to spend Memorial Day weekend in the Hamptons.  Access to the ocean on one of the two busiest beach holidays would have her packing her equipment in a heartbeat.

Jesse’s grin flashed as quickly as his fingers over the virtual keyboard.  “Sounds like my kind of photographer.  Send her my way.  I appreciate your help, Delaney.  Oh, hey.  While I’m here, can I place an order for my sister’s birthday?  It’s not ‘til the thirty-first, but I forgot last year and she’s still giving me a hard time over it.”

Delaney’s stomach churned along with the hours’ old coffee Jon had generously provided this morning.  The rest of the breakfast bounty reared its head too, making her seriously reconsider the habit of post-orgasmic gorging.  This was twice in a row that it was proving problematic.

“Yeah, sisters are like that,” she demurely agreed, knowing full well the date of Stephanie Bongiovi’s birthday.  “What do you think she’d like?”

Please…  Nothing purple.