92:Party On

Jon didn’t call her back, because he was not the type to go begging a woman to talk to him.  Not his style, nor did he want to adopt it as such.  Rather than spend the next thirty minutes trapped in the back of a car with his annoyance, he opted to occupy himself with something else that might vent that annoyance.

Finding the text message Matt, he did the thing to block his own number and stabbed automatically generated link to dial the counselor’s husband.  The sack of shit answered on the first ring.

“Owen.  Jon Bon Jovi.  I understand you’ve been trying to reach me.”

“Jon!  Yes.  Yes, I have.  Thank you so much for taking the time to call.  With three weeks passing since my first request, I was afraid you weren’t going to.”

His simpering voice conjured up memories of his mushy handshake, and Jon frowned with disgust with the additional knowledge that the fucker was exploiting Noah and Caleb for his own benefit.  Jon really didn’t like this guy.

“I’ve been out of the country.”

“Yes.  One of our mutual friends did mention that a day or so ago.  I hope your trip went well.”

“It did.  What’s up?”

“Uh, well.  This is a bit awkward and perhaps totally out of line, but I was wondering if you might consider a favor of sorts?”

Totally out of line covered it.  This prick had met him exactly once, in a glorified photo op and now thought it appropriate to call for a favor?  It was becoming easier to see why he had no trouble living off the sweat of his wife’s brow. 

“What favor?”

“Well, you see, mine and Charlie’s twentieth wedding anniversary is coming up in a month – on the fourth of November – and we’re planning a celebration with family and friends, et cetera, at which we’ll renew our vows.  The venue is reserved and all that, but I was wondering if you might do us the honor of performing a selection at the renewal ceremony.  ‘Thank You for Loving Me’, perhaps?  Or whatever you might deem appropriate.”

“Have a Nice Day” came immediately to mind as Jon’s annoyance with the counselor spiked into rage for her motherfucking husband.  Residual rage simmered under his skin for her, too.  If she knew one goddamn thing about this and hadn’t told him, Jon was through with her and her secrets.  He might go through the rest of his life still loving her and wishing things had been different, but he wasn’t going to deal with one upsetting surprise after another.

“November fourth, you said?”

“Yes, but since that’s on a Wednesday, we were planning to do it the Sunday before.  November first, which is three weeks from tomorrow.”

The guy was awfully fond of throwing around that “we”, as though Chiara was fully on board and sending out the invitations.  Then again, maybe that’s what she and Izzie were doing today at their lunch. 

Stop.  Remember last night?  She’s not faking that shit.  This fucker is playing some kind of game with her and using you as a pawn.

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” he told the leech neutrally, while beginning to revisit the idea of a hitman ridding the world of his blood-sucking presence.  “Let me get back to you in a day or two.”

“Fabulous!  I’m appreciative that you’d even consider it, since we’ve only met the one time.”

Because, of course, this would be all about Owen.

It was an effort for Jon to keep his words modulated while pointedly noting, “I spent a week with Noah, Caleb and their mother.  They’ve become good friends of my family.”

“Yes.  I’m sure they have.”  Was it his imagination or did the other man sound pissed off about that?  Jon hoped so.  “Anyway, thank you so much for your time, and I will look forward to hearing back once you confirm your availability.  Speak with you soon.”

Jabbing the phone’s screen to cut Owen off, he then performed a series of subsequent stabs that would ring Chiara.

“Jon,” she answered with a sigh.  “Can we have this conversation later, because-“

“I’m not calling about that,” he interrupted impatiently.  “You said you didn’t have any more secrets, Counselor.  If that’s not true, now is the time to fucking tell me.  You have ten seconds to confess any outstanding sins.”

He could almost see her bristling.  “What the hell are you talking about?  I don’t have any sins, and I don’t appreciate your tone of voice.”

“And I don’t appreciate your fucking husband asking me to perform at your twentieth anniversary celebration.”

The surprised breath she sucked in confirmed that Jon was right.  She didn’t know any more about this than he did, and he’d bet she was going to be just as pissed.

 “He asked you to perform at my what?”

“Twentieth anniversary party.”

“Well, that’s going to be pretty hard to do since there is no such thing.”

Her indignation soothed his annoyance, relaxing Jon enough to smile at the approaching New York skyline.  The sizzle of her temper was becoming a familiar comfort, and it turned out that he found it cute when not pointed at him. 

“Deep breath, baby,” he coaxed with a voice that was far gentler than the one he’d started the call with.  “I’m sure you’re going to be hearing about it soon since he’s contacted me.  Supposedly, he has a venue and all that.”

“That explains the thousand dollars to the Crowne Plaza which he has yet to answer for,” came her seething response.  “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Since Jon had been riding that train of thought most of the morning, he couldn’t blame her, but there might be a way to deal with this that didn’t involve jail time. 

“No you’re not,” he reasonably contradicted.  “You’re going to say ‘Honey, that sounds like a great idea’ and go along with whatever he suggests.”

“Not only am I crazy, but now you are, too.  Tremendous.”

He rubbed at the warm spot in his chest with a chuckle.  “Just do what I said.  We’ll talk about it in more detail tomorrow night – along with that thing from earlier.”

Her sigh was indicative that she wasn’t pleased about having blind acceptance forced upon her, but she only said, “Trust, Bongiovi.  You’re lookin’ at it because this gives me freaking hives.”

“You won’t ever regret it giving it to me, Counselor.  I’ll make sure of it.”

The car was pulling up in front of Dorothea’s building, leaving him to ring off and shove the phone into his pocket.  It was time to refocus himself.  As enamored as he was with the counselor, and as invested as he was in clearing up the situation with Owen, his boys deserved his undivided attention. 

When the private elevator arrived in the apartment, however, it wasn’t his two youngest sons waiting to greet him.  It was their mother. 

“Hi,” he greeted her with a cautious smile.  Jon recognized that look on her face, and it wasn’t one that had ever served him well. 

“Hi.  We need to talk.”

Yeah.  Those were the words that typically accompanied that expression, and Jon had to remind himself that he hadn’t been put in this position for three months now.  Listening to whatever she had to say wouldn’t kill him, and since he’d been out of the country, at least he knew it wasn’t something he’d screwed up. 

“Sure.  What’s up?”

Silently waving him toward the living room, she gestured for Jon to sit on one of the sofas before joining him.  “Remember when you told me about dating Charlie?  I said I thought she was married?”

With a sinking stomach, he wondered if Owen was going to permeate every damn facet of his day. 

“Yeah?”

“Well, Jesse called and I happened to mention Charlie’s sons.”

Oh, fuck.  Jesse didn’t know that Jon and Charlie were seeing each other.  It wasn’t that Jon had any secrets from his kids, but Jess still had contact with Noah and Caleb, who didn’t need to find that shit out from anyone other than their mom.

“And?”

“And I asked him what he thought of them.  That kind of thing.  He went on to tell me that he hadn’t talked to them lately, but that they and their dad went backstage at one of your shows.”

Dorothea should really look into law school for herself.  He’d never been on trial, but Jon felt like this was probably a classic case of leading the witness. 

“And?” he repeated, refusing to incriminate himself without due process and all that.

“And, she’s married, Jon.”

Rubbing a hand over the jaw he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning, Jon sighed.  He had two options here – play dumb and delay the inevitable or just bite the bullet and get it over with.  Knowing that he’d end up biting the bullet at some point anyway – before he left here, more than likely – he opted to just tell her the truth. 

“That logic doesn’t add up to her being married, but I’m not going to argue since she is and I know it.”

The brown eyes that blinked at him were nothing like Chiara’s.  There was no softness or warmth in their depths, only a blank slate of confusion, as though he was a pod person who’d spoken in an alien tongue. 

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” he sighed.  “I haven’t.  There are extenuating circumstances that I’m not at liberty to share.”

She was still staring at him with that dazed look.  Maybe it wasn’t that he was a pod person, but that it was difficult for her to believe him that stupid. 

“I like Charlie, Jon.  I always have, but this…  Women say a lot of things to get in your bed.  Are you sure?”

He laughed aloud in utter disbelief.  “Thank you for educating me on what women will do to get in my bed, because I had no fucking idea.  Really.”

“Stop being an asshole and tell me you know what you’re getting into here!” she snapped.  “Because I’m having trouble believing that the sex is that good.”

“Ohhh, the sex is that good.  Every damn time, it’s that good.”  She deserved the jab for discounting his intelligence and treating him like one of their naïve sons.  “I know exactly what I’m getting into and, if you want to see for yourself, keep your calendar open for November first.”

Pushing to his feet, he prepared to go in search of his sons but a question from his ex-wife halted him.  “Are you just doing this to spite me?”

“No.”  Narrowing his eyes, he fixed her with a look of disgust.  “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not that emotionally stunted by our divorce, Dorothea.  You wanted rid of me, and you got rid of me.  Now I’ve found someone else.  It’s really just that simple.  Jake!  Romeo!  Let’s go!”

It would benefit everyone for him to get out of here while still considering Dorothea a friend.