24:Move Along

“You won’t be home until morning?” Luke asked with disbelief at the beach tote she’d just parked beside the front door of the cottage.  “Dare I ask?”

“No.”

Charlie shook her hair out and took one last look at her makeup in the wall mirror.  Thanks to her time in the sun this week, there was a little more color in her cheeks but, other than that, her appearance was no better or worse than usual.  Which was fine, since tonight wasn’t about Jon’s interest in her face, it was an extended exploration of chemistry.

“You realize all that does is make me want to ask?” her brother demanded from the wing chair in the corner of the living room.

“You realize I’m a grown woman with no interest in your protective big brother schtick?”

This was the first time in over a decade that she’d spent the night with a man, so she kind of had enough of her own anxiety without adding his crap to the list.  Thank God – Jon, actually – that the highest priority item on the anxiety list had been crossed off before noon today. 

Charlie had been in the midst of concocting some lie about going back to the city for the night when Noah had casually mentioned Jesse calling to invite both the boys and Sydney over for the night.  He might have said something about them setting up a projection screen in the yard and watching movies in sleeping bags.  Or from the pool.  Or something.  Once she found out they would be at Jon’s house tonight with Bongiovi adults on the premises, she lost interest in the particulars. 

All she cared about is that there was no reason for them to find out that Mom/Aunt Charlie was doing her own sleepover.

“I’m just wondering where you found a vacation hook-up,” Luke clarified his interest in her plans.  “If I’d known, I might not have given Jon your number.”

Charlie shot him a dirty look and went to check her bag one more time.  She kept meaning to put her phone charger in there, but she wasn’t sure if that actually happened or not.  Spotting the white cord peeking out from under her shorts and t-shirt for tomorrow, that item was mentally ticked off the anxiety list. 

When she texted him the address, he had responded with a short note saying they would “probably go eat”, which temporarily became another line item on the anxiety.  After about five minutes of stressing over how to dress for that nonchalantly offered dinner date, she mentally kicked herself in the ass.  They were in the Hamptons, where a cute summer dress was appropriate for anything from burgers to fine dining. 

She had cute summer dresses, and throwing on a sleeveless black and white floral along with flat sandals had solved that problem.  After adding a sweater, just in case, she took the item completely off the list – to be replaced by a new dinner anxiety.

What the hell were they going to talk about in public, among civilized people?  All they knew how to do was exchange acerbic barbs, which hardly constituted polite dinner conversation.  She would need six martinis to get as far as the bed that had lured her into this shit in the first place.

“Was that look of death because I gave Jon your number or because I mentioned him at all?”

“Can’t you go pick someone up in a bar and leave me alone?” she sighed with an exasperation reserved solely for her brothers.  They could be such a nuisance.  “The house is alllll yours tonight.  Find your own hook-up and stop worrying about mine.”

His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, as though he was trying to read her mind, and Charlie thought he seriously could benefit from going out and finding a companion for the night.  He clearly had way too much time on his hands if her love-life was of this much interest.

“Mm.  Where’s he taking you?”

Sweet Mary, Mother of Jesus.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t ask?”  His melodramatic expression of incredulity had Charlie turning her back on him and trying to remember if she dropped her hairbrush in the bag.  Surely she had.  “This from the woman who has an Excel spreadsheet to track the renovation progress, schedule and estimated time to completion with eight thousand color-coded tabs, cross-referenced by assigned alphanumeric locations within the house?  You won’t go to the friggin’ grocery store if you think it will have the slightest domino effect on the schedule, and yet you don’t know where some casual hook-up is taking you?  Do you know the guy well enough to be sure he isn’t going to hack you to pieces and throw you in the river?”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head and tried to remember that he was concerned for her safety and well-being.  That was the only reason he would blow this up into a scene of theatrical proportions. 

“Yes, I do, and you’re a moron.” 

The moron was also making her more anxious.  Lifting a hand to fidget with her diamond stud earrings, her stomach clenched when she encountered nothing but a naked earlobe.  No diamonds.  No pearls.  Nothing.  They must still be upstairs on the nightstand, where she’d put them before her shower.

“Shit.  I forgot my earrings.”  Checking the clock, she saw that it was five before five and instructed her psychotic brother, “There’s a car coming for me any minute, so answer the door if the driver knocks.”

“Is the Hamptons Hacker at least springing for this car?” he called as she hurried up the stairs.

Ignoring him, Charlie opened the door to the master bedroom and immediately spotted both pairs of studs right where she’d left them.  The diamonds went in easily enough, but she grew ten thumbs when it came to the pearls.  It took three tries to get the first one in and, when she picked up the second, it hit the hardwood floor and rolled under the bed. 

“I swear I am going to have a stroke before that friggin’ car gets here,” she muttered to herself as she got down her hands and knees.  With her shoulders close to the floor and her backside in the air, why was it that she suddenly envisioned Jon’s fingers digging into her hips as he took her from behind?  “Because you’re officially a Jon Bon Jovi groupie-slash-nympho, dumbass.”

Grunting with disgust, she snatched up the damn pearl and wished this evening was underway already before she drove herself crazy.  She had just twisted the back onto her earring and was smoothing down her dress when Nana’s frenzied barking alerted her of the driver’s arrival. 

“Thank God.” 

She closed the bedroom door behind her and scurried down the stairs, coming to a screeching halt on the bottom step.  Just inside the front door, shaking hands with her brother, was Jon looking better than she’d ever seen him in person.  Jeans and a black button-down weren’t exactly a tux and tails, but he wore them better than he had the suit at the Food Bank dinner. 

And she was spending the night with him.

You’ve screwed him twice already.  Stop with the swooning.

Even without the self-lecture, her swoon would’ve been gone in another five seconds, anyway.  Courtesy of her idiotic brother.

“Hey, Sis.  Your hook-up is here,” he announced cheerily, taking a step back from the man at the door to cross his arms and give her a shit-eating grin. 

Ignoring him, she focused on Jon.  “I’m sorry.  I had no idea you were coming to get me.  I thought it was just a car.”

“My fault,” he neutrally accepted blame with sharp eyes scanning her from head to toe.  “I didn’t specify.”

What was the protocol in this situation?  Did she threaten to kick her brother’s ass if he breathed a word of this?  Did she leave that to Jon?  Or did she simply hope that Luke was couth enough to realize discretion was inferred?

Shit.

Twenty-seven years ago she had learned the excruciating lesson that he would – either intentionally or unintentionally – embarrass the hell out of her unless he had very specific instructions to do otherwise.  The prom night memory of him asking – in front of her date – if she remembered to get the tampons off the bathroom counter still had the power to make her physically ill.

“Luca,” she commanded his attention in her mommy voice.  “You have no idea who I’m going out with.  No.  Idea.  Do you understand me?  This is not the droid you’re looking for.  Move along.” 

It was a long shot, but perhaps a Star Wars reference would help drive the point home, since he’d seen the damn thing three thousand times.  She could hope, anyway.

The shit-eating grin kicked up a little higher on one side.  “I’m pretty excited about this, actually.  A rock star lowering his standards enough to date my sister.  How cool is that?”

“You’re an asshole,” was her snarled observation as she descended the final step to cross the living area and scoop up her beach bag and purse.  “And we’re not dating, so shut your pie-hole.”

With a quiet cough that may have been engineered to cover up a laugh, Jon calmly interjected, “Sorry to interrupt this touching family moment, but we’re on a schedule, Counselor.  Are you ready?”

“Yes.  I am.”  Nana was sniffing at her ankles, prompting Charlie to give the little dog a quick scratch behind the ears and remind her brother, “Don’t forget to walk Nana.  And go find some trouble to get into, would you?”

Without a backward glance in his direction, she opened the door to gesture Jon out and then closed it firmly behind them.  It took conscious effort to bite back a second nerve-induced apology, but she managed to do it by engaging in subtle deep-breathing exercises until they were sequestered inside the black Lincoln.

Allowing herself one final cleansing breath before completely dismissing Luke and his havoc-wreaking ability, she turned to Jon, who sat in the opposite corner of the back seat.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” he returned through the ghost of a smile.  “I gotta say it makes me feel just a little bit better to see the bitch routine isn’t reserved strictly for me.”

Grimacing, she told him wryly, “I was trying to tire her out before applying the muzzle.  We’ll see how effective it is.  Do you mind if I ask where we’re going?”

“Montauk for now.”

That was all.  No elaboration beyond that simple, straightforward statement.  Was this what she had to look forward to this evening and tonight?  The bare minimum?  No talking unless they were naked?  It was enough to renew her anxiety about dinner conversation.

“And after that?” she ended up inquiring when the silence became too much to bear.

“Martha’s Vineyard.”

Martha’s Vineyard?  Massachusetts?  There wasn’t a highway between Montauk and there.  She was confident of that, but maybe there was a private airport she didn’t know about.  Wasn’t that an awful lot of trouble for a straightforward night of sex, though? Maybe she’d misunderstood.

“We’re spending the night in Martha’s Vineyard?”

“No.”  Jon extended an arm to palm Charlie’s bare knee and skated seductively along the top of her thigh, inching the interfering dress upward until its hem was bunched into her groin.  Then that same hand slipped around so that deliberate fingertips grazed the crotch of her panties just before his palm curled around her inner thigh and squeezed.  “We’re spending the night at sea."