75 - Most and More

“Colton!  Turn that shit off!”

Jon was beyond the point of filtering anything that came out of his mouth, and that included his irritation at hearing “I’ll Be There for You” for the third time.    

“Not my fault Bon Jovi was popular in 1989,” the young man responded to the surliness with visible lack of concern.  He did change the song, for what good it did. 

Jon’s unfiltered opinion to the new choice of “Blame it on the Rain” was immediate and vehement.  “No!  We aren’t listening to Milli fucking Vanilli in my goddamn house.  Piece of fuck lip synchers.  Play something by an actual musician.”

Colton’s evil grin that looked suspiciously like that of Delaney’s current dance partner – his father.   He’d good and darn well known his selection wasn’t going to be appreciated.

“Your son is an instigator,” she informed David as a Poison ballad came over the sound system. 

“Taught him everything I know.”

There was pride in his voice when curving an arm around her waist, but too many tequila shots weighed heavy in Delaney’s head.  She had to rest a cheek against his shoulder without seeing the accompany prideful grin, and he let her sway there while Bret Michaels crooned about every rose having its thorn. 

Yes, she was beyond the threshold of effortlessly holding her booze, but at least she wasn’t as bad off as Jon.  The prom king crown that she placed on him moments ago kept threatening to slide off his tilting head, but he said drunk dancing was better than listen to a loaded Pearl bitch about her non-dancing husband.  So, he’d stumbled up to do the right thing, and Pearl now swayed in his arms, looking like the cat who swallowed the canary.

Her expression reflected Delaney’s feelings perfectly.  Prom was the bomb. 

It was honestly the most fun she could remember having as an adult.  Between drinking games, tacos, margaritas, eighties’ music, the cheap prom queen tiara on her own head…. There’s no way Jake and his teenage friends were having more fun than this group of crazy lushes.

The only downer was that her date was probably going to pass out before they got the chance to “make it baby”. 

Disappointing, to be sure, but she wouldn’t call it complete tragedy since he was a cute freeping drunk.  Cute, not sexy like when he got tipsy on wine.  Reality was that the man was a sloppy tequila mess, but still totally cuddle-worthy.

“He doesn’t have his shit together as much as he’d like everybody to think.”

Lifting her face from the ruffled tux shirt that David probably wore to his original prom, she fixed bleary eyes of confusion upon him.  “His shirt’s half unbuttoned, his hair is a mess.  With any luck, he won’t break his nose or my friend when he finally falls, but there’s nothing about him that implies ‘together’.”

“Touchè,” Dave chuckled with a slow spin, heeding his wife’s instruction not to step on Delaney’s toes.  High heels had been declared hazardous to everyone’s health about an hour ago, leaving all the women were barefoot.  “I meant when he’s not swimming in Jose Cuervo’s sweat.”

So maybe the tequila was making her slow, but she still wasn’t following. 

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“He’s a worrier.  Not about shit,” he corrected himself at her murmur of disagreement.  “But about people.  The kids, his family, the band, the roadies.  Every fucking body he feels like he has an obligation to.  That includes you, now, by the way.  Probably the other two Gidgets, too.”

Watching the man let Pearl hang from him when he could barely stand himself was proof enough of that sense of responsibility.  Delaney had subconsciously known about this personality trait already, she’d just never thought of it in that way.  She also didn’t know why David was bringing it to her attention.

“Okay…?”

“I’m talking a Super Bowl champion worrier,” somberly clarified the man who’d done nothing but crack jokes all evening.  “You may have noticed he stuck with shrimp and rice on his taco.  No ulcers, but spicy food fucks with him since his alleged love child came a knockin’.  That worry eats at his stomach.”

That was something she hadn’t been aware of but, thinking back to kung pao chicken at her apartment, she did recall his request for non-spicy.   That memory was quickly followed by his middle of the night flight to New York because of her, and the burden of guilt weighed down her booze-lightened mood. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“’Cause it’s shift change, and I’m clocking out.”  

He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a Swahili fortune cookie.  He wasn’t even paying attention to her, for crying out loud. 

David was idly overseeing the other couples intertwined on the makeshift dance floor – Matt had his wife nuzzled close, Max looked miserably content with Renee singing softly in his ear, and Petra was spewing dirty giggles as her hands dug into Sean’s back pockets.  Lexi and Todd were the only ones still sitting at the dinner table, chatting over yet another margarita, and David’s smile flashed at his wife as though he hadn’t just dropped an mysterious bomb Delaney’s lap.

“Could ya speak in terms a prom queen can understand?”

Navy eyes slid down to hers briefly.  “Somebody had to worry about him, and I took it upon myself to do it.  Now it’s time to pass the torch, see that you’re his souley and all.”

Her feet went still, and Delaney leaned back in surprise. “He told you that?” 

“Yeah, why?  Not true?”

“Oh, it’s true,” she confirmed as he nudged her into motion again.  “But I thought he was humoring me by using the word.  I didn’t realize he’d actually say it to anybody else.”

“You clearly have him whipped already.  All the more reason to accept the obligation of warding off his ulcers.  I’ll resume  duty for the month he abandons you for the Japan and Australia tour.  You’ll be lucky to hear from him, however…”  He hitched a smug eyebrow at her.  “If you’re nice to me, I’ll also make sure he gets you something for Christmas.”

Her blood alcohol content made him seem funny instead of offensive, so Delaney laughed instead of getting mad. 

“I gladly accept Jon duty, but I don’t need anything for Christmas.  Now, if you wanted to put barbed wire around his hotel beds to keep out the unwanted women, that would be nice.  When is this Japan thing?”

“Between Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Laaa-ney!”

Both Delaney and David turned to the petite woman who had bent herself backward over Jon’s arm.  An upside-down Pearl was a funny sight, and Delaney giggled as Jon stumbled trying to keep them both from collapsing to the floor.

“She’s fuckin’ heavier than she looks,” he grumbled. 

“Pearl, give the man a break and stand up.”

“But I wanna kiss him,” her friend whined, nearly toppling over in trying to get back on both feet.  “His breath smells like tequila, and it’s dis… disturbingly sexy.  Can I kiss him?”

“Don’t ya think you should be askin’ me that?  Or maybe yer husband?”

Jon’s insulted tone made the situation more laughable, and it escalated to the neighborhood of hilarious when Pearl scoffed, “Please fucker.  You’re all hot, likable and romantic, but I’m not losin’ my girl over you.  And your lips are in my pre-nup.”

“Did she just say Jon is in her pre-nup?”

Poor David didn’t speak Pearl’s slurry language, forcing Delaney to provide the translation. 

“It’s not an actual pre-nup.  They have lists of celebrities that are freebies.  If Todd gets a chance to lip lock Scarlett Johansson, Pearl has told him to go for it.  Jon’s on her approved list.” 

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

She peered over at the woman who was explaining the difference between the two lists to Jon.  He was no longer an entry on her sex list and appeared to be insulted at losing his spot to Jason Momoa.

“Why should it bother me?” Delaney asked of the man who swayed her to the ballad’s final chorus.  Pearl had been a lifesaver this week, both at the cemetery and the bar afterward.  As far as Delaney was concerned, she’d more than earned a kiss from Jon.  “He’s going to kiss women I’ve never met.  She just respects me enough to ask first.” 

Thoughtful eyes studied her for a moment before his curls bobbed with a slow nod of approval.  “You’re a keeper, kid.  Welcome to the family.”

“Laney!  The song’s almost over.  What’s the verdict?”

Twisting away from the Godfather-eqsue moment with David, Delaney found that alcohol didn’t improve Jon’s patience any more than his diplomacy.  He’d obviously decided that he didn’t need anybody’s permission and grabbed Pearl’s chin without waiting to see if it was granted. 

It didn’t bother Delaney in the slightest.  She grinned at the chaste kiss that was defiantly planted on her friend’s lips, thinking that she would’ve been disappointed if he waited like a dog on a leash for her approval.  Attitude was the crowning glory of a New York girl’s Prince Charming, after all.

“No tongue, Pearl!”

The kiss was over before the sentence was finished, but Pearl wasn’t disappointed by the swiftness.  She threw a triumphant fist in the air, which had her toppling precariously to one side.  She would have hit the floor if Jon hadn’t caught an elbow. 

“Todd!” he bellowed as she dangled from his grasp like a grouper on a fishing line.  “Come get your drunk-ass wife, for chrissake!”

Even squalling like a madman, he was endearing  in his rolled-back shirt sleeves and loosened tie.  Under the lopsided crown, silvery locks were unruly from the hands he’d put through them during the drinking games, and whiskers were starting to pop out along the sculpted line of his jaw. 

He was perfected imperfection, and Delaney had the irrepressible urge to be in his arms. 

“Thanks for the dance,” she murmured when stepping away from David.  “It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you convinced everyone prom is over.”

There was a quiet chuckle as Todd accepted custody of a floppy Pearl, followed by, “Cue it up, Colt!”

Bass guitar thrummed in her ears, followed by the erotic addition of synthesizer before a younger Jon’s voice became recognizable.

“When I look in your eyes I can feel the fire.”

It was his final song dedication to her – “Let’s Make it Baby” – and she definitely felt the fire when his eyes locked onto hers. 

“Hi,” she purred, easing into arms that instantly pinned her close.  “Wanna dance?”

In all honesty, she couldn’t care less whether they danced or not.  Standing here, pressed against him with those lyrics loud enough to drown out the clamor of their departing friends and family….  It was almost enough to satisfy her.

“Only if you get all ballsy and demand kisses, too,” Jon murmured directly in her face to prove Pearl right.  Tequila breath was disturbingly sexy – or maybe it was just this man who was disturbingly sexy.  All it took was being the sole focus of his attention to pucker her nipples.  He was a walking aphrodisiac.

Both of her hands glided gently up the front of his shirt, but there was nothing gentle about the way they hooked around the back of his neck and tugged sharply. 

“Kiss me.”

Jon’s growl was the cherry on the aphrodisiacal sundae – or so she thought until the mouth preparing to flatten against hers muttered, “Fuck, I love you.”

When a possessive tongue swiped deep, the flavor was better than a dozen shots because it wasn’t just tequila saturating her mouth.  It was the soft stroke of desire, the hungry moan of passion, the impatient sigh of lust… and the man responsible for them all.

“You’re drunk enough to love anybody tonight,” she panted when wet lips glided down the column of her neck.  Delaney’s mindless fingers ruffled the hair at his nape, clutching tightly when a wicked tongue fluttered against her pulse. 

“Love you most.” 

The concession was steam against her skin yet had the ability to create goose pimples. 

He was drunk.  If she hadn’t already known the booze stole his filter, his effortless back-to-back use of “love” was certain proof.  Jon didn’t throw that word around lightly.  He believed in actions over words, and she’d begun to agree, but when he combined the two… 

“I love you more.”