112:Blessed

November 1
The lights of Times Square were brilliant as day passed into evening, and their neon glow filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Crowne Plaza event room where Charlie was “celebrating” her twentieth anniversary.  A rainbow of color from the Broadway show ads washed over the already bright display of tropical fruit on the hors d’oeuvre buffet, bouncing from it to the champagne glasses filled with berries to the raw vegetable assortment and canapes.   

Somewhere between those fabled lights and the food they were spotlighting stood Charlie, marveling at how many people were going to be witness to this orchestrated train wreck. 

Her entire family was there, of course, circling like great white sharks waiting for Owen to get a paper-cut.  Jon’s brothers and their wives were in attendance, as expected, but so was Dorothea and that was not expected.  When casually mentioning what a pleasant surprise it was, she was told that Jon issued the invitation and since this relationship would ultimately affect the Bongiovi children, Dorothea was here to get the “full story”.

Those names alone totaled twenty – and then there was Owen’s guest list.  Couples they’d come to know through the boys’ sports and school events, his “professional” acquaintances, and another dozen or so that he likely just wanted to flaunt Jon in front of.  Those were milling about with faces that were much more congenial than that of the Del Vecchios and Bongiovis, because they had no idea what was afoot.

“You look gorgeous,” Izzie remarked, appearing at her side to deliver a glass of champagne.  “Why waste the effort?”

Charlie knew the sleeveless black jumpsuit with the deep v-neck and wide crisscross straps over the open back gave the appearance that she was truly in character, especially with the narrow gold wedding band situated on her left hand.  That wasn't why she was dressed up, though.

With a wry smile, she confided to her friend, “Jon’s taking me out afterward.  He said something about introducing the world to me, so I thought I should dress for the occasion.”

“And yet he gets to wear a button-up shirt with jeans.  The standard between men and women is so damn different that it’s almost cruel.”

That assessment applied equally across the room.  Most of the women were wearing slacks and blouses or dresses, while the men had on shirts with jeans or Dockers.  There was definitely a double-standard at play, but…

“When you look that good in your clothes, nobody cares what you’re wearing."  

“Ain’t that the freaking truth?”  Izzie stepped in to Charlie's side, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her in for a hug.  Before releasing her grip, she paused to murmur, “I’m so happy for you.  If anybody deserves a fairytale ending with a hot prince, it’s you, my friend.  Joey would approve.”

The mention of her brother’s name would have once brought with it the threat of tears, but there was nothing but a fond smile now.  “It’s not a fairytale ending yet, but I know he would.  If Vince approves, Jesus Christ Himself has no choice but to do the same.”

“Jon obviously won over the jaded cop.”  Her dark head tipped toward to the room’s entrance where the two men were deep in conversation.

Charlie hadn’t even spoken to Jon tonight, but she had appreciated the view of him in a black button-down that she was starting to think was his favorite shirt.  A quick glance revealed that both he and Vince were wearing serious expressions, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were talking about.  In masterminding her retribution on Owen, they had found some common ground for the moment, and she knew they would find more as time went on.  Her boyfriend was going to fit into her family as easily as she’d fit into his. 

“Charlie?  How much longer before this shit show gets started?”

Realizing that Izzie must have repeated the question at least once, Charlie twisted her wrist to get a look at the time.  It was after six, and everyone that was coming should be here.  It was time to get this party started. 

“Now.  I’ll go prod Owen along.”

She glided through the knots of people, smiling and briefly speaking to each while she continued to pass by – until she got to the group of Jon’s brothers, their wives and Dorothea, anyway.  Progress came to a screeching halt as soon as Lilah got a hand on her arm.  

“Honey,” she breathed, drawing her into a fierce hug.  They hadn't seen one another or spoken since last night's dramatic installment of My Husband is a Psycho, and the touchy-feely Southerner obviously needed closure from it.  “I am so, so very sorry.  That man is the biggest pile of dickweed I’ve ever seen in my life, and trust me… I’ve seen a lot.  Even been married to quite a bit of it, but Lord a’mercy.”

“You’re sweet,” she laughed, returning the hug and winking at the other four.  Charlie could use her own closure, and it was so near that she could almost taste it.  “Can you get a contact buzz from burning dickweed?  Because I'm about to light him up.  It would be nice if everyone else gets the same warm and fuzzy feeling I'm going to have."

"They've been telling me about... this," Dorothea broached, her face contorted with either concern or horror.  "It sounds almost unbelievable."

"It's easier to believe when you see the replay.  I thought Jon was gonna pop a blood vessel when he saw it this afternoon."  Matt and Desiree remained stoically silent, but Tony went on to dust her cheek with a kiss and affirm, “He deserves to burn, Charlie.  Make him.”

She was going to.

After talking to Jon, she spent last night at Luke’s and used him as a sounding board to decide what outcome would be in the best interest of her sons.  They’d both come to the conclusion that Jon was right.  Leaving Owen free to further manipulate Noah and Caleb wasn’t doing them any favors.  They’d be better off understanding that there were consequences for every action, and that their father was facing his – whether he wanted to or not. 

Catching Tony’s eye, she nodded.  “That’s the plan.  Thank you again for last night.”

“No big.  Be good to Jon and we’ll call it even.”

“I will.” 

While she was technically making the reassurance to Tony, it was Matt she directed the words to.  He still hadn’t warmed toward her, but that was okay.  Eventually he’d figure out she wasn’t playing games and loved his brother.  In the meantime, she’d take whatever chances she could to reassure him.

“Friends and family!  If I could have your attention please?”

In the time she’d been waylaid by Jon’s family, Owen had enough of his own inspiration to get things underway, and Charlie excused herself to Lilah’s muttered, “Dickweed.”

Stopping at a distance that wasn’t too close, but close enough to be considered “next to” him at the front of the room, Charlie folded her hands in front of her and faced the crowd with a demure smile.  His orders upon arrival this evening had been for her to keep her mouth shut, nod and smile.  That, if she did, he might be considerate enough to find alternate living arrangements  – which she would pay for, of course – instead of moving into her precious renovated brownstone.

She’d ground her molars together much the way Jon was doing now as he stood between her brothers and his with a glass of red wine.  That tick in his jaw was way too familiar for it to signify anything but the gnashing of teeth. God knew she'd inspired it often enough in the beginning to recognize it.

“Tonight, Charlie and I are disappointed that our children couldn’t join us, but we are no less blessed and privileged,” he embarked upon his nauseating speech while sidling close to devour her precious personal space.  The skin-on-skin contact of his hand to her bare back produced a shudder that she had to quell in order to focus on what was being said.  “Not many people in today’s society can boast twenty years of marriage.  Especially a divorce lawyer.”

There was a tittering of polite laughter through the equally polite smiles of many guests, including the small group of men in the back that she hadn’t noticed before now.  In suitcoats and ties, their mouths adhered to the socially expected smiles, but their eyes…

Looked a lot like those of her family and Jon’s, who all visually assaulted the man who was giving grossing Charlie out by stroking her waist with a thumb.  To her surprise, Izzie was the worst of the lot, leaning into Aaron looking for all the world as though she wished Owen would spontaneously combust. 

It was a pity that he merely continued with his sanctimonious drivel.

“Twenty years of marriage is a milestone deserving of celebration, and it’s also a good opportunity to remind one another of the reasons you’ve made it this far.  And to renew your commitment to those reasons. Charlie and I would like to do that now, with you, our friends and family as witnesses, before we invite our very special guest to perform one of his well-known songs.”

Charlie knew they’d never make it as far as Jon’s musical selection, but it entertained her to think of what he might’ve chosen.  “Damned” would be fitting.  A case could also be made for “We Weren’t Born to Follow”, or even “Raise Your Hands”.  Personally, however, she’d like to dedicate “Have a Nice Day” as the anthem for this ludicrous occasion.

Damn.  I should’ve asked Tony to use that as a soundtrack.

Fingers on the hand sitting at her waist dug threateningly into Charlie’s flesh to deliver what she presumed was a silent word of caution.  Her instructions for this scene were to nod and smile while he spoke, and then echo his words verbatim.  No ad-libbing or improvisation was required or would be tolerated, Owen ominously informed her.  Follow the script and continue to enjoy life as she knew it.  It was that simple.

“Many of you may not realize what a feat it is for Charlie to even be standing here with us today.  She’s suffered some unthinkable obstacles during our marriage but has managed to stay on this side of sanity – just barely.  There are days when it’s hit and miss, but she’s a strong woman who fights the battle every day, inspiring me to be strong for her.”

It took only five seconds of Owen continuing in that vein for her to realize just exactly how many swear words she knew, because every last one of them zipped through her mind in a blazing blue streak.  The white knuckles around Jon’s wineglass and his tightly compressed lips told her that she wasn’t the only one indulging in the creative cursing as Owen went on to extol her virtuous battle with mental health. 

If she hadn’t already chosen a course of action, his spray of bull definitively chose it for her.  There was no way she would let him simply sign divorce papers and walk away to never look back, no matter what blackmail material she held over his head.  Owen was incapable of living a life that didn’t involve tormenting Charlie in some way, and once she incited his wrath tonight, he would only find new ways to do it. 

He needed to suffer the consequences of his actions.

“So, with that said, I turn to my faithful wife and wish you another twenty years of married life that mirrors the success of the first.”

As the subdued applause died away, she angled a smile up at Owen and forcibly removed his hand so that she could create good three feet of distance between them.  The men in ties inconspicuously migrated toward the exits as Tony slipped to one side of the room, and Charlie lifted her voice to address the guests.

“I’m afraid that what I have to say won’t be quite as touching as what Owen has shared, because I don’t share his gift for working a crowd.  In fact, with the help of a friend, I’m going to let Owen share the real secret to the longevity of our marriage.  Tony?  Whenever you’re ready.”

Under the dimming lights, Owen stepped close and hissed, “What the hell are you doing?  What part of ‘follow the script’ or 'nod and smile' do you not understand?”

“Hush, darling,” she muttered sweetly.  “You’ll miss the main event.”

At the sound of his own voice coming over the sound system, Owen’s head snapped up – and found the video accompaniment shining on the wall. 

“I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you lately, but it would be in your best interest to remember what that ring on your finger means.”

“This ring?  The one that signifies your success at blackmailing me and manipulating me for an embarrassing number of years?”

“Blackmail is such a dirty word.”

“Yet I can think of none more appropriate.”

“Must we go through this every five years?  You tell me I’m a despicable human being for lording your mistakes over you, and I respond with a reminder that you shouldn’t have made the goddamn mistakes in the first place.  Then you wouldn’t find yourself in such an untenable position.”

Tony’s work with the remote camera was flawless.  From its concealed location inside the flower arrangement, both Charlie’s and Owen’s faces were readily visible, meaning that there was no chance of mistaken identity.  Owen had no hope of escape.

“This doesn’t mean shit,” he pushed out from behind his carefully frozen smile while the video played on for an audience that was split between smug grins and awkward discomfort.  “It’s illegally obtained.  I didn’t consent to that, so you can’t use it for anything beyond masturbating to your wildest fantasies.”

Laughing with a giddiness that she hadn’t felt in ages, Charlie gleefully informed him, “You do remember I’m the lawyer, right?  Who passed the New York State Bar Exam?  Recorded conversations are admissible in the State of New York with the consent of one involved party, and I consented, you son of a bitch.  Ohhhh, did I consent.”

The angry flare of his nostrils delighted her even further, and she couldn’t resist throwing fuel onto the fire. 

“Convicted felons don’t get divorce settlements either, in case you were curious.  So, please consider this ‘coming out’ party your last dip into the bank account that will be closed first thing in the morning.  Of course, if you’re lucky, they’ll just deport you to some remote corner of Saskatchewan.  I hear they need moose midwives up there.  It would be the only way you touch that part of a female for the rest of your life.”

“Cunt.”

"Yes.  That part," she confirmed with an animated nod, as though he were a slow child, pissing him off enough to pivot away from her.  Charlie brutally hooked an arm before he could stalk away, digging her nails into his flabby bicep through the Brooks Brothers shirt she'd financed.  Pointing to the video still playing, she theatrically lamented, “Oh, don’t leave yet, darling.  You’ll miss the very best part!”

“I would, however, psychologically fuck you up beyond repair and commit you to a rat-infested mental institution to rot while I collect your disability benefits and sell the brownstone I keep hearing about.  So you might want to keep that in mind.”

"Sheer poetry," Charlie sighed with contentment as his cheeks grew more blatantly red and mottled.  With any luck, he'd have a heart attack and die right here. 

“Noah and Caleb will hate you." He jerked his arm away as the empty threat fell flat on the floor.  "Those boys love me.  I made them love me."

“No, actually, you used them and they hate you for it,” came her amiable contradiction.  “Noah remembers the things you used to say to me about Joey, and it went a long way toward discrediting every fucking thing you ever told them.  I believe his exact words to Caleb were, ‘Dad was covering his own scheming ass’.”

The bane of her existence was running out of straws to grasp at, and pale eyes simmered with barely leashed fury while the mottled red of his face crept up into his thinning hairline.  “I should wrap my hands around your throat until you can’t breathe.  I'd enjoy watching you die.”

“Go ahead.”  He could try, anyway.  Without even looking, she could sense a formidable assortment of men easing closer.  “I’ve counted four cops here that I’m not related to.  They might be able to get to you before my brothers and my dad.  But I doubt it.”

Not to mention the Bongiovis, but there was no point in overkilling it. 

Furious eyes became hunted ones that darted around the room in frantic search of confirmation, and once he connected with the gentlemen wearing ties, the jig was up.  He knew he was caught, but that didn’t stop him from darting toward the nearest exit – and into the well-placed forearm of Jon, who purposely stepped in front of him.

Charlie immediately clapped a hand over her mouth as Owen howled with pain and clutched at the nose that was gushing blood.  She tried not to laugh at the spontaneous tears pooled in his eyes, but she didn’t do a very good job.

“And that’s every bit as satisfying as I hoped it would be,” Jon declared, grinning savagely at the bright red splash of blood on his shirt sleeve.  “You did good, Counselor.”

The video had come to an end, with a low buzz humming in the room as one of the police officers got Owen a wad of napkins for his nose and another one put him in cuffs.  Charlie stood beaming at the beautiful, silver-haired man whose eyes twinkled with crystalline blue admiration. 

There wasn’t enough money in the world to repay this feeling of freedom that he’d afforded her.  That he’d badgered and bullied her into for her own good.  He’d believed in her when she didn’t think it was possible, and he’d stood beside her every step of the way, shoving her from behind when necessary.

He was, as Izzie so aptly put it, her hot Prince Charming, and her heart overflowed with love.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she spoke above the murmuring group without severing visual ties with her hot prince.  “For those of you who didn’t get the gist of what just happened…  I have been married to Owen for twenty years because he’s blackmailed me into doing so.  Without that coercion, we wouldn’t have made it the first five.  And, if it wasn’t for one very special man, I’d still be living under Owen’s thumb without any immediate hope for escape.  I want to publicly thank Jon Bon Jovi for being the kind, caring, humanitarian that the media always portrays him as.  It’s not an act.  It’s who he is, and he is the real reason I am blessed today.”

One side of his mouth kicked up with wicked pleasure as Jon held out a hand, pulled her into his arms and claimed tender possession of her lips. 

There was no more hiding it. 

He was hers, she was his and Charlie couldn’t be happier.