73 - Brangelina Who?

Delaney took in the picturesque suburban road with its beautiful homes, knowing that she was on hallowed ground.  This was the infamous Navesink River Road, and Jon was taking her to the landmark estate that drew Bon Jovi fans every year, month, week or day.  She honestly had no idea how many people drove this road specifically to get a peek at Jon’s property, but she’d bet it was more than a few. 

When they pulled through the front gate and past rows of young trees, it was to be faced with a home she’d only seen in pictures.  The French chateau was just as imposing as the photographs suggested, but the surrounding landscape lent its lush greenery for a touch of softness.  There wasn’t the coldness she’d always expected but a countryside warmth. 

There was also a car on the parking pad that she hadn’t expected to find. 

“What’s Petra doing here?” 

Her chauffeur only lifted a careless shoulder while navigating under a portico away from the main entrance.  “You need more than four people at a prom or it’s just a double date.  She and Pearl are gonna help you get ready, and their husbands are coming later.  I think maybe your brother and sister-in-law are coming too?  I tuned Petra out when she wouldn’t shut up, so not sure on that, but Matt and his wife will definitely be here.  And Dave and Lexi, of course.”

That explained Matt’s casual promise to see her later when they dropped him at his home a few miles from here.  It also gave her an opening to fix what she’d broken earlier, and Delaney began by asking a question.

“Why did you do this?”

Shifting the vehicle into Park, he didn’t look at her but answered while turning off the ignition.  “You said you regretted not going to prom, and since I never went either… why not?  With booze, it can’t be that bad.”

She figured it would be something along the lines of ‘because you wanted to’ but hearing him say it carried more sweetness than expected.  He really was much nicer than he gave himself credit for, and it only served to reinforce her point.

“You remember all that stuff you said about how hard it is being married to you?”

Bowed lips flattened as he withdrew the key with a jerk.  “Jesus, Delaney.  Are you trying to ruin my day?”

“Oh shuddup,” she ordered kindly, palming his cheek and turning a disgruntled face her way.  “All of that’s just being human, too, Jon.  So what if you don’t fit the stereotypical perfect husband mold?  There’s nothing wrong with the mold you came from, and I’m continually amazed by your thoughtfulness.  Thank you.”

Wariness was heavy in the air when he questioned, “That mean you’re not gonna give me hell when I forget your birthday?”

“No, because I’ll remind you.” 

“What about when I’ve got my head stuck up my ass thinking about a tour or album, and you want me to pay attention to you?”

“I’ll flash my boobs.”

All signs of wariness fled, leaving behind stained glass irises that sparkled as if hit by cerulean sunlight.  “If that’s the case, I might spend a lotta time with my head up my ass.”

“And we’ll both pretend my boobs are the reason,” she laughed with a conciliatory pat to his cheek.  “Now, I’ve got a short time to perform a miracle make-over, so I’d better get started.”

“Wait.” When she would’ve reached for the door handle, Jon latched onto her forearm and stretched toward the glovebox.  Popping it open revealed a square, flat velvet box, which he withdrew and held out for her.  “Take this with you.”

Any woman worth her salt knew what was in a box like that, but Delaney accepted it with a dumb, “What is it?” 

“Just a necklace and earrings I picked up this morning.  There’s a path to the guesthouse behind the garage.  That’s woman central for the next couple hours.  I’ll come get you about seven.”

She was dying to see what the jewelry looked like but managed to restrain herself from flipping it open and gawking on the spot.  He'd gotten her jewelry.  Had he picked it out?

No, dumb bunny.  He probably had an assistant do it, and if you aren't going to open it, answer the man.  

“You don't need to come get me.  I can meet you back here or inside the house.”

“It’s prom for chrissake,” he reminded with a disgusted rolling of eyes.  “The whole premise is a guy showing up at the door with flowers to pick up his date.  Even I know that.  Get with the program, Mou.”

Well, alrighty then.

*****

“Holy sheep dip,” Delaney breathed when unzipping the dress bag. 

The last hour had been spent under the care of hair and make-up artists also provided by Jon, in addition to the dress, jewelry and an insider’s view of his guesthouse and home.  His nice factor had reached a height of zenith proportions, and she couldn’t get any luckier without a ticket for tonight’s lottery drawing.   

“You’re welcome,” her sister offered from under the make-up brush. 

Oh, yes.  And while Delaney was getting her wrinkles spackled, she’d also been updating Petra and Pearl on the events of the last twenty-four hours, from the encounter with Katya to Hugo’s surprise identity.   They were both annoyed that they’d spent the morning beating the Manhattan pavement with Renee in search of prom dresses – funded by Daddy Jovibucks – while she was living “some damn crime drama” and wouldn’t even let them see the video.

The first viewing of that video was hers and hers alone – if she decided to watch it.  She found herself waffling back and forth, but if that button was pushed, Jon would be the only one to watch it with her.  Was it selfish?  Yes, but it was her prerogative to be selfish.

She still felt a bit bad about it, though, so she was making an extra effort with the petulant pair who were playing dress up with her tonight.  That’s what had her asking nicely, “You picked it out the dress, Petra?”

“You don’t think he picked it out, did you?” Came the scoff from a mouth that was painted a glossy neutral that would complement any color, including the short pink dressing robes they all currently wore.  Delaney hadn’t yet seen the dresses in the other garment bags, but she’d bet Petra’s was black.  “Sister dearest, please.  He may be thoughtful and one of the world’s sexiest things on three legs, but he’s still just a man.  His only instruction was that it had to be silver or gray to match your eyes.”

“Which means you’re gonna need to add ‘sweet as fuck’ to his list of star qualities, Pet.” Pearl’s hair was nearly contained in a sleek French twist, and she wrinkled her nose when the stylist hair sprayed it with a heavy hand.  “Who knew the Jersey bad boy was going to be Harlequin material?  Prom, for God’s sake, with a dress to match your eyes.  People can’t make this shit up in their fantasies about him.  Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Biting the inside of one cheek as the skirt of her dress emerged, Delaney demurred, “I wouldn’t go so far as Harlequin.  He’s got an awful lotta attitude to be a romance hero.”

“Girl.  We’re New Yorkers.  Attitude is the fucking crown on our Prince Charming.”

“Point taken,” she laughed, laying the empty garment bag on the master bed.  

All three guesthouse bedrooms would be occupied tonight, according to Petra.  She and Sean in this one, Pearl and Todd in the one next door, and then Max and Renee in the third across the hall.  Her friends and family were again taking over a guesthouse on one of Jon’s estates. 

“Tell me how all this happened again?”

“I got a text saying Jon needed a favor, and after about my third question regarding said favor, he gave up and called me.”

“Nobody cares about how you can out-text every single man with a set of danglers, Petra.  Get to the point.”

“Bite me, Pearl.”  Following that lazy retort, she thanked the cosmetician and rose from the chair on a quest for her own garment bag.  “You said you wished you’d gone to prom, and he wanted me to find the dress since I’d know your taste and size.  It was supposed to be just a double-date with the Bryans, but I insisted there should more guests for it to be called a prom.”

Stepping into her princess wear, Delaney managed to not roll her eyes – but just barely.  It came as no surprise that Petra was responsible for her own inclusion, and Pearl was so immersed in this whole relationship that if Petra was coming, her presence was a given.  That they’d convinced their husbands to come along for the ride was another matter, and their little brother’s participation was mind-boggling. 

“But Max?  Did you telling him I was dying or something?”

Max was a mechanic who hated Petra’s political wife routine as much, if not more, than Delaney did.  Social niceties weren’t his thing, and she was pretty sure he hadn’t even worn a tie at his own wedding.  His definition of formal wear was khakis with a button-down, which he wore only with great reluctance and a lot of whining.  Renee, his social worker wife, was mellow and tolerant by nature, so she didn’t complain that his entire wardrobe was jeans. 

Come to think of it, Delaney had never seen Jon in anything but jeans, either.  Maybe he and Max would find a pair of Levi’s to commiserate over.

“Little brother isn’t satisfied with my judgment of your new boyfriend and wants to check him out personally.  Who knew he’d grow up to be protective of the women who abused him as a child?” Petra snorted and loose waves swung gracefully when she turned away from the mirror.  “Anyway, the fact that your new boyfriend is Jon….  Well, let’s just say Renee was a heavy influence in his decision to attend.”

“Can’t wait to see which New York sports team Max will be reppin’ tonight,” Pearl snorted, shimmying into a skin-tight scrap of red that must be her dress.  

A wide rhinestone strap settled on one shoulder, curving down around the right breast and across a field of solid red to wave gracefully toward her left hip.  From there, it trailed nearly to the mid-thigh hemline.  The other shoulder remained bare.

“Love the dress,” Delaney complimented, situating the straps on her own.  “Zip me?”

“I decided if I was going to be eighteen again, I was going to dress like it,” came from behind Delaney, along with the zipper’s rasp.  “Unlike some people.”

Huffing as she smoothed both hands over hips draped in predictable black, Petra sniped, “You are such a pain in the ass.” 

Her darkly sophisticated dress had a sleeveless lace bodice with a modest round neck.  The empire waist was defined by diamond-esque jewels that provided a hint of glitz, but the loose skirt fell to her ankle with no adornment whatsoever.  It was a stark contrast to Pearl’s short, tight and red number.

“Yeah, but I have a hot ass…”  The sassiest of the three slapped said ass with a smirk.  “That won’t be mistaken for the mother of the bride.  If my Spanx don’t give me up.”

“What’s Renee wearing?”  Her sister-in-law had also joined the morning’s whirlwind Manhattan shopping trip that Jon financed.

“Renee’s dress is grown-up gorgeous,” Pearl declared.  “Without looking like Barbara Bush.”

“I’m so glad your dress is red.  The blood won’t show when I stab you with my Jimmy Choo.”  Icy silver eyes turned to Delaney.  “Renee’s gown is Academy Awards gorgeous.  Merlot beads from the demure v-neck all the way to the floor.  It fits her figure perfectly without being obscene.”

That last bit was for Pearl, who used a bejeweled high heel in place of her middle finger to flip a bird.  “Academy Awards, Barbara Bush or Tokyo Rose.  None of it matters because Laney puts us all to shame.  Girl, you look….  Dayum.  I can’t even think of a word that does you justice.”

Checking out her reflection in the full length mirror, Delaney took in the results of her makeover.

 Espresso hair was expertly arranged in a loose pile on top of her head, reminiscent of a Gibson girl style, with strategic tendrils framing both her face and neckline.  There were false eyelashes and a heavy application of smoky eyeshadow to go with the foundation and blusher that created the illusion of flawless perfection. 

The vines of platinum and diamond forget-me-nots that encircled her neck to converge in a huge teardrop diamond on her sternum only escalated the feeling of perfection.  She’d tried to convince herself that it and the matching vine earrings were costume jewelry, but Petra expertly declared the multi-carat teardrops to be the real deal. 

Petra was as trustworthy as any jeweler when it came to diamonds, so Delaney had contracted a temporary case of hives when the cool precious metal settled against her skin.  Thankfully, it faded, but the make-up artist said she had some industrial grade concealer if there was another breakout.

That had Delaney breathing a little easier, because would be a shame to ruin the presentation of this dress with something as gross a rash.

The stunning silver prom gown had sweetheart neckline with two thin spaghetti straps. It seemed a crime to use such bland lingo for such a gorgeous garment, but it was the only bland thing about this dress.     

The fitted silver bodice clung to her endowed chest and was adorned with an intricate beading and stone design.  Satin ruching emphasized the empire waist and featured a shiny bejeweled flower that bled into a dusky gray A-line skirt which had wavy vertical stripes of silver sequins.  Those same sequins were paired with lace in a vine design that wove opulently around the hem.

Freeping fairy princesses…

“Breathtaking, Pearl,” a husky voice supplied from behind her.  “That’s the word you’re looking for.”

Turning with a wide smile, Delaney found that the man propped in the bedroom doorway wasn’t so bad himself.  Black suit, dove gray shirt and a black tie were the perfect foil for his salt and pepper hair, and the centers of his eyes even matched, as they were dilated more black than blue.  He was a lust-worthy picture right down to the ivory rose pinned to his lapel – and the ones dangling from his fingertips. 

“Is that for me?” she teased, floating toward him on strappy smoke heels. 

There was no doubt, of course.  She recognized it as one of the last-minute corsages from the cooler, but he nodded with a sexy tilt of his mouth.  The bundle of delicate flowers, greenery and jewels settled around her wrist, and then Jon bent to dust feathery lips against her cheek.

He even smelled gorgeous. 

“Hell's bells, they’re prettier than Brangelina,” Pearl muttered in the background as Delaney lost herself in the shimmering blue montage of Jon’s eyes. 

Stationing herself beside the mouthy Musketeer in a rare show of unity, Petra admitted, “I’d hate her if I weren’t so damn happy for her.”

“Word.”  The two frenemies bumped fists.  “Welcome to prom night at Jolaney’s.”

************************

Below are the dresses I was trying to describe.  I hope they came across in a way that gave you a mental picture looking something like these.