He passed over his leather bag and slid into the back
seat without offering instruction. The driver had delivered him to
the midtown heliport on multiple occasions, and that familiarity left Jon free
to fish an annoying phone from his pocket. The damn thing had been
ringing or chiming all morning long.
It had started with the call from Petra, which he didn’t
begrudge at all because Delaney had brushed off all his sympathy and
condolences about her daughters. Women’s
minds were far more complex than men’s, so that left Jon uncertain as to whether she’d
really made her peace with the whole situation or if she was stonewalling
him. Pushing the situation would only
build the wall higher, and because Petra knew everything and didn’t give a rat’s
ass about being pushy, he now had the opportunity to see if this holiday
weekend was going to reveal any cracks in Delaney’s armor.
The only thing that irritated him was her stubborn refusal
to fly out with him.
Whether it was because of something she hid behind that
stonewall or sheer obstinacy, she insisted that it was better for the three
women to drive. That way they would have
a vehicle at their disposal, thereby cementing her independence to come and go. Forget
that the usual two-hour drive would probably take four on the Friday of Memorial
Day weekend. Her mind was made up and nothing he said could dissuade
her.
If they left Manhattan at ten this morning, they might
get to the house by two – if they were lucky – and her response to a text
message that pointed that out was answered with a simple, “So?”. That left Jon unable to do a damn thing about
it but wait for them to pull into the driveway.
His iPhone started in earnest after that.
Jesse texted to check their flight time out of the city,
saying that his friend and business partner was coming along, too. That
was fine. Jon liked Ali, and honestly,
he probably wouldn’t see much of them. There were at least four
parties this weekend besides the one Pearl was tagging along for.
Then his assistant called with scheduling questions, and
after that, Dorothea was calling in to confirm a second flight after school
for their younger sons. She also mentioned her florist visit
yesterday, saying she had no idea – okay, some idea –
why Delaney was hooking up with him, but he could do a lot worse than someone
who was that thoughtful. Her parting words were, “I'll be amazed if
you can keep from fucking it up.”
Truthfully, he was amazed it wasn’t already fucked up. Delaney’s acceptance of his assholery to Dorothea
was a load off Jon’s mind, but there was always the possibility that there was
another bout of it lurking on the horizon.
Sometimes he didn’t exercise the best judgment. It was a known flaw in his character, but he
had yet to figure out a permanent solution.
As the car door slammed shut behind him, he flipped open
the leather case to reveal the identity of the next contestant on “Blow up
Jon’s Phone”.
“Hey, Big Brother.”
“Matt. What’s up, man?”
“Nothing. Just hadn’t heard from you since
Tuesday and was wondering about the great apartment search. You find
anybody to sell you one? Or one to buy?”
“Oh. Yeah,” he offered absently as his vehicle
came within an inch of sideswiping a taxi.
New York City traffic was abysmal at mid-morning. He
hoped Jesse made it to the heliport somewhere close to ten. Jon
wasn’t quite sure why he found himself so hell-bent on getting out of the city
by then, other than he was anxious to get to East Hampton where the air alone
made him happy. There was something about the smell of salt air and
sand that nourished a man’s soul.
“Yeah to which?” his brother prodded when the pause became
too long for the hereditary Bongiovi impatience.
“Both. Found a place yesterday and she says
she can get me the keys in two weeks.”
“Damn. Must be a hell of a realtor. Where’d
you find her?”
The question was muted by a chorus of car horns. Taxis roamed the congested streets at a
snail’s pace, and his hired car wasn’t faring much better. Pedestrians
were everywhere, commuting from the suburbs to their jobs in the city’s
skyscrapers and creating more of a traffic issue than the vehicles.
“Friend of Delaney.”
“Delaney, huh?” Matt asked slowly, sounding amused. “How is Bounce?”
The nickname didn’t annoy him as much as it once had, so
his reply was merely firm instead of pissy. “More than a goddamn
rebound girl.”
There was never a doubt in Jon’s mind about that, but if
he’d harbored any misgivings, the last two evenings had blown them all to hell. They’d
bared too much of their souls through the revelation of shortcomings and
tragedy, and there was a bond forged in those throes of vulnerability.
No matter what role she ultimately claimed in his life, he
was confident she wasn’t just passing through.
Delaney watched him face-plant off the pedestal she’d put
him on, and it was okay. She helped him up, dusted him off and
provided a figurative step-stool for him to get back up there. He
might not be standing on it yet, but he was sitting with a woman who knew he
was far from perfect.
“Seems early to be so sure about that, but okay.”
“Fuck you. I know what I know.”
“Can’t believe I didn’t hear about her on TMZ already,”
his little brother goaded, knowing how the media piranha fed on every scrap of
flesh they could scrape from a bone.
“We’re keepin’ it under wraps for now, so that she
doesn’t end up a fall guy for the divorce. Only a handful of people
know we’re together.”
“Including the kids?”
He didn’t like lying to his children when it was
avoidable, and Jon felt that they were all capable of handling this particular
truth. It probably wasn’t something he was going to cram down their
throats all at once, though. They’d at
least get to know Delaney as his close friend this weekend. Maybe more, depending on how things went.
“They will this weekend. She’s coming to the
Hamptons for a couple days.”
“Uh, bro? Didn’t you just say you were keeping
it under wraps? The press is going to be thick in the Hamptons for
the holiday weekend. Don’t you think you’re just asking for their
bullshit?”
“It’ll be fine. She’s staying in the
guesthouse with Petra and Pearl, and we’re not going out anyplace together.”
“Oh, Christ. The full midget posse is in
residence? How the hell did that happen?”
Priorities was how it happened. The other two
meant Delaney agreed to come. They also provided a smokescreen of
ambiguity for anyone who was keeping tabs on his guest list and both were
capable of providing any distraction Mou may need. He’d gladly put
up with them and probably not even hate it.
“Turns out Pearl’s a photographer, and she’s going to do
some promo pics at one of Jess’s wine events. Or something. Not
sure about the details. Delaney refused to come until Petra stuck
her nose in, so she ended up along for the ride.”
There was a brief silence before his brother posed,
“You’re not wasting any time, are you?”
A bike messenger almost ran into the side of the car,
making him think of Delaney’s accident. Those guys were insane, but
anyone riding a bike in New York City was certifiable by Jon’s point of view. Then
again, maybe he was
certifiable for being so into his little pixie florist.
Sunlight could effortlessly infiltrate the tiniest
cracks, bringing light to the darkness and warming the cold without anyone’s
noticing until it was a foregone conclusion. Delaney was sunlight. She
warmed his bed with her heat, but she was also a light in his day. He
liked her even when clothing was required, including when they’d been looking
at apartments yesterday.
Much like Avery, she’d quickly picked up on his
preferences and pointed out features that either fell in line with or
diametrically opposed them. She also offered her own take on things,
commenting on the utilization of space, suggesting blackout blinds in the
bedroom, imagining what the view would look like at different points in the
day, listing options for the rooftop terrace and a dozen other minutiae that
would never occur to him.
His Mou was smart, thoughtful, low-key and laid-back –
all of which he considered positive traits in any companion, not just a
girlfriend. That trip to the gym also proved she was competitive as
hell, and frankly, sometimes Jon needed someone to ride his ass. It
spurred him to work harder, and history had proven that the harder he worked,
the luckier he got.
Delaney was both sunlight and storm in a cute-as-hell
compact package that made him excited about something other than work. So
what if he was moving fast by some people’s standards? He lost
interest in other people’s standards when it took over twenty years to win a
goddamn Grammy.
“Matt, man. I’ve gone slower with her than I
have anything in my life.”
{{{
“I can’t believe that son of a bitch had the nerve to
show up and think he was going to sell Jon an apartment,” Petra snorted as the
Mercedes crawled its way through Long Island traffic.
Jon had been right about the horrific state of traffic
but Delaney just wasn’t ready to start taking helicopters for the sake of
convenience. It was easy enough to be his friend and lover when they
were eating dinner at her scuffed dining room table. Even shopping
for a multi-million-dollar apartment and spending the night at the Four Seasons
weren’t really problems, because… Well, because they were just
apartments and a hotel. She’d done that before and so had everybody
she knew.
Commuting – being – in
a helicopter was a new experience that force-fed the reality of his wealth to
her, as did discovering he’d had a car delivered to the Hamptons to use “for
the season” and that the “guesthouse” was the size of her parents’ house with
three bedrooms, three-and-a-half baths and a full kitchen. He lived
in a different world than the one she knew.
Delaney was willing to visit that world, but it had to be
on her terms.
“What the hell did that nimrod think he was doing?” Pearl
demanded from her post in the back seat. “He should’ve totally known
you’d cockblock him on that.”
“In all fairness, I think he was surprised to see me. Everything
happened so suddenly with Avery’s son, that I don’t think she mentioned
anything more than ‘Jon Bon Jovi is looking for a place to live’. Geoff
saw dollar signs and jumped on it.”
“After he jumped off the secretary. I can’t
believe he’s still married to her.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” She asked curiously of her diva sister
in the Versace sunglasses, who filed her nails and applied cuticle oil in
between changing radio stations. “She’s young, beautiful and dotes
on him.”
“They frigging deserve each other,” Pearl spat over the
intro to “Complicated”. “What surprises me is that you told him
about Violet and Poppy.”
She first met Pearl at a parent-teacher conference
seventeen years ago. Her son, Seth, was only a grade ahead of
Delaney’s girls, but the eight-year-old had the advanced artistic imagination
of a teenager. He liked to draw women’s naked breasts and drew them
repeatedly, which had necessitated a meeting with his mother. The
two women had become fast friends and, with that kind of history behind them,
Pearl felt Delaney’s loss as deeply as any of the family members.
“I would’ve rather waited, but after him asking about my
tattoo and then running into Geoff...” She shrugged and shifted up
her aviators. “There wasn’t much choice.”
“Well, since you’re sharing such intimate secrets, did he
tell you why he’s getting divorced?” Petra prodded while simultaneously firing
off a text message. “I’m dying to know.”
“You won’t find out from me. All I’m saying is
that it wasn’t as sudden as it appeared to be. Anything else will
have to come from Jon.”
Which was about as likely as a polar bear sunning himself
on Georgica Beach. She had a feeling he wouldn’t have told her
if he could’ve avoided it. He was
obligated by the suddenness with which he’d decided they were dating.
A huffy breath was louder that Jon’s singing voice inside
the car, and Delaney transferred her sandaled foot from the gas to the brake to
level her sister with a look. “Don’t be nosy. That was
the deal, remember?”
Petra had promised to be on her best behavior and not pry
into Jon’s personal life or try to execute her own agenda this weekend, but her
price for silence was dictating Delaney’s wardrobe. She said ripped
jeans and t-shirts weren’t going to cut it in the Hamptons and had packed an
extra bag from her own closet, filled with “appropriate” garments.
An outfit assembled from those garments was waiting at
Petra’s townhouse, and she refused to leave Manhattan before Delaney changed
into them. The white sleeveless blouse was okay, but the lavender
cardigan and khaki twill skirt were not her favorite. Nor was the
French twist that was too tight on the sides, but she’d deal if it meant Petra
wouldn’t be embarrassingly digging into Jon’s personal life.
“I’m not going to ask him anything,” Petra vowed. “If
he volunteers the information, it will be entirely his choice.”
“Uh, girl?” A curtain of black hair came
between the sisters as Pearl inserted herself into the conversation. “It
doesn’t count as volunteering if you manipulate the conversation so he has no
other choice. Just sayin’.”
Delaney held up a fist, receiving a light bump of
solidarity from her friend. They both knew how Petra operated. Fortunately,
she thought Jon did, too. He wouldn’t be a helpless victim to
railroading.
“Suck it, Pearl. I have an avid interest in
people’s lives and feelings. They respond to that and open up to me. It’s
not my fault that I’m a natural-born listener.”
“Ha!” Delaney’s loud scoff actually made Petra
jump. “You’re not a listener, you’re a busybody! Keep
your nose where it belongs – out of Jon’s private life. Enjoy the
chance he’s given you to see the Hamptons through the eyes of an insider and
remember that you’re his guest, not
the Gest…apo.”
“Word!” Pearl’s fist again made an appearance
in the front seat, and Delaney automatically tapped it. “I
personally don’t care why he’s getting divorced. I’m more interested
in checking out the dynamic between you two… Mou. Girl,
when he told me that, I about crapped my pants with jealousy.”
Petra whirled in her seat as they passed a Lexus. “Told
you what? When did you talk to Jon? What’s ‘Mou’?”
“She doesn’t know?”
Delaney had no reason to bring up his pet name for her,
and wouldn’t have told Pearl without Jon’s demand to do so. “No.”
“Know what?”
She smacked at Petra’s sharp finger poking into her thigh
and dispatched a sideways scowl. “He calls me ‘Mou’. The
Greek word, not the cow noise.”
“Mou?” her sister repeated with something akin to awe. “He
calls you ‘Mine’?”
An unbidden smile pushed up the corners of her mouth. “Yeah.”
“You realize that’s hot as hell, I hope?”
The corners of her mouth inched higher. “Yep.”
“Jesus. Jon Bon Jovi really has the hots for
my sister.” A brilliant white grin accompanied the excited squeeze
of Delaney’s hand. “I’m so happy for you, I can’t stand it!”
Delaney was pretty happy about it herself.
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