67 - Coal Fired

“Hey.”  Jon stood to greet Delaney, pushing his Yankees cap back to drop a light peck against her mouth.  She almost didn’t look like his Mou with neatly pinned hair, makeup, short dress and flats.  Not that there was anything wrong; it was just different and definitely was a step up from his jeans and habitual black tee.  “I’m really sorry.”

Kissed lips bowed up at the edges, and there was nothing but serenity when she brushed off his quiet contrition.  “No apology is ever needed for this.”

Even watching her warmly greet the two youngest Bongiovis, who were invading their evening, Jon still felt bad.  The plan had been to do something special tonight – a nice dinner for two, anyway – to commemorate what felt like the first solid brick in their relationship. 

This morning, she’d displayed both strength and weakness in appeasing his curiosity about Violet, going above and beyond the specific questions he’d posed.  There was no doubt she let all the walls down when walking him through every thought and emotion of her distressingly cathartic cemetery visit.  When irrepressible tears made it difficult, he told her to stop, but she wouldn’t accept the permission to back down.  His beautiful fighter bravely slogged through it all, supplying validity to the Greek words Jon had since memorized. 

S’agapo. Eísai i psychí mou.  I love you.  You are my soul.

She believed it now, so the words were fine by him.  They didn’t change the relationship.  It was merely confirmation of what already existed, but he was compelled to do his own validation.

Jon had been on the verge of telling Delaney about Chicago when she saw the nightstand clock and gave a lusty “freep”.  She hopped out of bed and into the shower while bemoaning that she was the only designer to finish a ton of prom orders today. 

The visit with her estranged daughter wasn’t exactly the type of news to share while she shampooed, so he resigned himself to keeping quiet until the right time presented itself.  Instead, in one of his least smooth moves ever, Jon raised his voice over the shower noise to announce he was moving in.  

He wasn’t sorry for the actual decision.  It felt right and made sense for the short term, but he’d been kind of abrupt by announcing it as a given fact rather than asking what she thought.  It had only taken a moment for her to acquiesce, but still.

Dinner, wine and a sinful dessert – afterward, in bed, preferably – were supposed to make up for his lack of class.  A food coma would act as apology for bullying his way into her home and create an air of complacency before he recounted the chat with Poppy.  

He’d also planned to get the low-down on what happened during their last mother/daughter reunion, but all that got pushed to the back burner when Jake called.

The teenager had a craving for the little pizza place in Brooklyn and nothing else would appease his Bongiovi stubbornness, so he dragged his little brother on board to support the cause.  Dorothea was unimpressed.  She’d never been crazy about the place and advised them to either call their father or hit the subway, because she was making sushi.

What was a guy supposed to do when his teenage sons actually wanted to spend time with him, even if it was to use him as a glorified Domino's driver? 

So here they were, crammed into a tiny building under the bridge along with fifty other pizza-starved locals and tourists.  There were at least that many more lined up out the door, and it had taken considerable charm to get a table for four when only three of them were present.  The only thing that got him through was the promise to order right away – without consulting Delaney.  Thank God he remembered her delivery order from their first night at the Four Seasons. 

“Arugula, prosciutto and mozzarella is okay, right?”

“Perfect,” she assured and ran a palm over his thigh before looking across the table.  “How’s it going guys?  How much longer until school’s out?”

“A week,” the boys chorused dully. 

Settling his arm along the back of Delaney’s chair with a dry chuckle, Jon scraped a thumb back and forth along her bare bicep.  This wasn’t the ideal plan for the evening, but her ready acceptance had put him at ease.    

“You can see that they hate summer and would rather go to school year-round.”

“Just like Dad, huh?”

The boys were no happier about going to school than he’d been but were required to finish high school, at a minimum.  College was strongly encouraged and may involve bribery should the need arise.  With these two – Jake, at least – the need was likely.  They were a little more free-spirited than their older, obedient siblings.

College hadn’t been a requirement for Jon’s career goals. 

“I had more important things to do,” he said without apology as his son’s phone vibrated on the table. 

Not that he didn’t want to learn.  He’d very much wanted to acquire all the knowledge he could get.  The subject matter just didn’t happen to reside in a classroom. 

“Hey, Delaney,” Jake interjected.  “Are you coming to promenade tomorrow?”

“I…”  Gray eyes went blank, zipping from Jake to Jon and back again.  “Promenade?”

Damn.  Jon forgot about having to be out in Jersey tomorrow for the pre-prom fashion show, and now it put him in an awkward spot.  Did he invite Delaney to go?  Dorothea was going to be there, but that shouldn’t be an issue.  

Should it?  

He was just a mere man.  What did he know about such things? 

Hell, would Delaney even want to go?  Becoming that fully immersed in Bongiovi family life might be uncomfortable so soon.  Or would it?

Fuck it.  This and she are both part of my life.  She can make the decision.

Angling himself more fully in her direction, he explained, “It’s where the kids parade around in their fancy clothes before they spill food on ‘em at dinner.  Gives the parents a chance to take pictures and see what we’re paying for.  Wanna go with me?”

“What time?”

The shadow of panic streaking over her features suggested that it wouldn’t matter.  She’d be up for a liver transplant before penciling this event on her social calendar, but Jon would go through the motions without calling her on it.

“Jake?”

With proficient thumbs tapping against the phone screen, he speculated, “Uh…. Four, I think. Lemme check.”

“Four,” Romeo confirmed without looking up from his own phone.  “It’s on the website.”

Delaney paused, thumbing a spot off her fork while avoiding everyone’s gaze.  “Is there a specific reason you asked, Jake?”

He was right.  She didn’t want to go.  It was obvious to everyone in the fucking room, and Jon found himself disappointed.  He kind of understood her – or anyone’s – unwillingness to be Dad’s new girlfriend at a school function, but it was going to happen eventually.  Why not just jump in and get it over with?   

“Yeah, actually.”  His son gave her sheepish grin that looked all too familiar.  “If you’re coming, I was going to ask you to bring my flowers.   I want to spend the night with a friend in Jersey, but Mom won’t let me if I have stuff to take care of in the city before prom.”

“I’ll bring them,” Jon volunteered.  There was no point in making her voice the actual refusal.      

“No.”  Her objection was immediate, and Delaney cast him an unhappy frown, complete with a harshly puckered brow.  “I didn’t go to prom, so I always like to see the dresses.  I just…  I thought I might have a scheduling conflict, but it’ll be fine.  I’ll bring the flowers.”

“Thanks, Laney.  You rock.”  His thumbs were flying over the screen again, no doubt making travel arrangements to New Jersey.

Jon was leaning in to tell her she didn’t have to, but the offer died on his lips.  The scheduling conflict thing must be legit, because her features had smoothed under the glow of a soft smile. 

Okay, fine.  Works for me.

“Why didn’t you go to prom?  Were you too cool, like Mom and Dad?”

Delaney’s smile shifted from Jake to Jon’s quietest child.  Most of the time, there were things going on in Romeo’s head that he found far more interesting than the here and now.  Jon was surprised the boy even heard the comment, much less chose to engage in conversation.

If Mou needs proof my kid likes her, there it is.

“Not really,” came her wistful muse.  “My sister went, and I just… wanted to be different than my twin.  Turns out I’d just cheated myself out of the ultimate Cinderella moment.  That’s what prom is for girls, anyway.  I assume it’s different for guys.”

For guys, it was about getting laid.  At least it was back in Jon’s day.  He was already getting laid, and Dorothea hadn’t been the Cinderella kind of girl.  They’d gotten drunk in the back of his car.  He’d gotten a couple of good lyrics out of that night, so there were no regrets on his part. 

Not like the regrets his girlfriend was obviously harboring as she stared into the distance.

“Sorry you didn’t get a chance to play dress-up?” he teased, skimming fingertips over her bare nape.

“Something like that.”  Delaney’s head abruptly spun in his direction and she brought her lips up to his ear to murmur.  “You swear you’re telling me the truth about Katya?  I’d rather not make a fool of myself for no reason.”

Another look told him she hadn’t been staring into space, but at a blonde woman in form fitting t-shirt and jeans.  Katya was at the bar, sitting sideways in her seat while sipping a beer and keeping an eye on their table. 

“I swear, but what are you going to do?”

“Nothing too embarrassing,” she promised, rising and excusing herself to the boys.

With his attention fixed on the determined little Greek, Jon swore under his breath.  What the fuck was he supposed to do here?  Delaney was more than capable of fighting her own battles, but should he step in?  Was she going to start a cat fight in the middle of a jam-packed pizza parlor?  With that coal-fired stove blazing back there, it could get ugly awfully fast.

“Who’s that?” 

“She works for Delaney,” he told his youngest child while worrying his thumb over his bottom lip.  The words weren’t audible from this distance, but there was a blatantly heated conversation taking place between the two women.

“Laney looks pissed.”

Casting a bland stink-eye at the unusually observant Jake, Jon suggested, “Why don’t you go back to your phone?”

“She might need back up,” came the stoic reply, and when Jon just stared, his son flipped a wrist so that his palm angled to the ceiling.  “What?  She’s got my back.  You’d kick my butt if I didn’t have hers.”

The kid had a good point.  In Jon’s house, if someone covered your ass, you made damn sure you covered theirs.  Nice to see his son hadn’t been sleeping for his entire sixteen years. 

“She’s fine.” 

Although he could see the furious flashes of lightning from here. 

Katya was taking an ass chewing, and from her pronounced indifference, didn’t seem to care.  Jon could almost see the frost dripping from her cool replies to the hard and fast Greek attitude, but her unruffled façade took a hit when Delaney helped herself to the woman’s unfinished meal and deposited it on a passing busboy’s tray.

Katya was officially pissed, and this shit was getting real.

“Get out,” was easily read on Delaney’s lips, and when her smoldering opponent didn’t budge, Jon and both boys moved to the edges of their seats. 

Jesus, please don’t get physical.  All we need is to get on YouTube.

He no more had the thought when the statuesque woman stood to her full height and towered over Delaney, who tipped up an obstinate chin and refused to give an inch.  Katya might be physically bigger, but she damn sure didn’t have more moxie than his Mou.  Delaney had taken on Matt in bodyguard mode for fuck’s sake.  She wasn’t scared of this skinny ass broad, and it was one more reason to love her.

Each second was an hour long as the two women stood stonily silent in the midst of restaurant chaos.  Jon was on the verge of asphyxiation from holding his breath so long when the haughty Katya finally squared her shoulders and stalked out the front door.  

The cheerful waggle of fingers in his direction didn’t mean jack. Whatever had gone down here, Delaney was the victor, and Jon wanted to hold her fist in the air like a boxer who’d just won a bout. 

“Laney’s a bad ass,” Romeo mumbled quietly.

When Jon's youngest opted to join a conversation, the boy proved he had brains.

“Yes, son.  She absolutely is.”