128: What Have I Done?

November 12

“Get up.”

Normally, Jon didn’t mind a beautiful woman bouncing on him.  He most certainly didn’t mind this beautiful woman bouncing on him, but she’d bounced on him until late last night and she was killing him on this vacation. 

Charlie hadn’t stopped from the time they’d gotten here.  All he could figure was that the Disney air gave her superhuman powers resulting in little need for sleep and an obsession to see every goddamn thing on the forty square-miles of the property. 

Tuesday was Magic Kingdom – alllll day.  They explored every nook and cranny, rode every ride, and got “It’s a Small World” implanted into his brain to the point where cricket homicide was justifiable.  They had caricatures made, ate things that only a teenager should be eating and bought a bunch more crap that was supposedly for gift giving instead of her.

The only time she even hesitated was after they got off Space Mountain, when she threw up a Dole Whip in the bushes.  Stopping at every food vendor was no longer a priority after that, he noticed. 

Wednesday was twice as crazy, because they “had to make up for lost time”, which resulted in sprinting through Disney Hollywood, Animal Kingdom and Epcot.  Thank God for the extra magic hours that allowed them to be in the parks from eight in the morning until midnight, he thought sarcastically to himself.  His only saving grace was that she cared nothing about the water parks.

All he wanted to do now was fucking sleep in on their last morning here.  A little coffee – or a lot – and maybe some fruit or something while they relaxed.  Was that too much to ask?

“I’m not moving,” Jon rumbled grumpily, pulling the pillow out from under his head to cover his face. 

The move was futile, because she was running on mouse juice and brimming with pillow-defiant fairy energy.  He was starting to see why the crocodile wanted to kill Tinkerbell. 

“Yes, you are,” she informed him reasonably.  “This is our last morning and I have something special planned for you.”

He peeked out from under the pillow’s edge.  “Unless it’s a gallon of coffee, I don’t want it.”

From her straddled position at his waist, the Perky One leaned briefly to the right before holding a coffee cup aloft.  Jon thought he’d been dreaming that smell, but the steam rising over Tinkerbell’s ceramic head told him that it was real – and offered another bit of proof that his girlfriend knew him well.

As much as she’d physically demanded of him during the last two days, Charlie went away the instant they got back to the room each night.  Chiara or the counselor took her place, depending on what she thought Jon needed or wanted at the time. 

Monday night was pure, undiluted and classic Counselor from the minute he’d snapped his fingers to summon her.  It was, quite frankly, some of the most memorable sex he’d ever had because it revealed that she’d go at it with him as hard as he wanted to go.  The freedom of it all had made him a little nuts afterward, and Jon still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around what happened, but it left him feeling unsettled inside.

The two following nights involved a little bossy Counselor taunting him into performing, while Chiara appeared both before and after to either coax or soothe him.  Finding out that her hands could deliver a massage better than most of the professional ones he’d ever had made Jon a very happy man.  He could clearly see that his future held many negotiations whose terms included those massages. He would make sure of it.

Now, though, the only thing he could see was the cup of java being dangled before him like a caffeinated carrot.

“Get off me so I can sit up.”

His reward was the grin that had become a beautifully permanent fixture on her face during the past three days.

She replaced the coffee on the nightstand before scrambling off, allowing him to scoot up in the bed and toss the pillow behind his back.  Once he was reclined against the headboard, Jon used both hands to scratch his head all over and then held them out to receive the mug she was offering again.

He closed his eyes as the black elixir of life slid warmly down his throat and into the depths of his equally black morning soul.  It was so close to perfection that he could pry open his lids without resentment, and when he did, Jon found the amusedly expectant eyes of the woman who would end up driving him to an early grave.

“We’re leaving this afternoon,” he pointed out reasonably.  “Wouldn’t you just like to stay in bed and enjoy a little relaxation time before we go?”

Dressed in denim capris paired with a blue “No Sleep Til Midnight” t-shirt with the silhouette of Cinderella’s pumpkin coach, Jon knew before she spoke that he’d just been talking into the wind.  His girl had places to go before they hauled ass out of here.

“Relaxation is for sissies.  We can lie in bed the whole way home if you want, but I can’t be here without having an adventure every minute of the day.”  When he opened his mouth for a rebuttal, she spoke over him to say, “And this morning’s adventure is my gift to you – for you.  So please get up.”

She looked so cute and excited that Jon wouldn’t tell her no.  Hell, he’d known he wouldn’t from the time his eyes opened the first time.  Charlie had him wrapped around her fucking little finger – but she didn’t have to know that.

“Gift for me, huh?” he asked, balancing the warm ceramic cup on his stomach while dialing up his acting skills.  “Did you bring my chiropractor down here?  Because one more roller coaster and I’m gonna need him.”

“No roller coasters today,” came the promise as she swept the covers away from his body.  “You don’t even need to shower.  Put on your dirty jeans, cram a hat on your head and let’s get out of here.  Where we’re going, they won’t care who you are or what you look like.”

That was intriguing, although this vacation hadn’t been too bad as far as recognition went.  He’d only been stopped for photos twice, and the counselor simply smiled and went to wait in line at the next concession stand while he did his thing.  She probably figured that since she’d made him stop for no less than a dozen Disney photographers – and bought every damn one of the pictures – that she could indulge a fan.

Besides that, he’d also indulged at least a dozen attempts at the “perfect” selfie of them in front of the castle.  He’d finally resorted to tickling her right before she hit the button, and while she hated it, seeing her unfettered delight made that his second favorite photo of the trip.  The fireworks shot from the first night was still the best, and he was anxious to get it printed and framed. 

“We going to a spa?” 

“No.”  The answer was short and succinct as he swung his feet out of bed, taking another long draw from Tinkerbell’s head before setting the coffee aside and reaching for the aforementioned dirty jeans.

“At the risk of ruining this, I’m just going to point-blank tell you I hate golf.”  Disney was big on golf recreation for the adult males wandering around, but Jon despised trying to get a little white ball into a gopher hole.  He much preferred the power and quasi-violence of bowling. 

“Good thing we’re not going to play golf, then,” she noted without looking up from the sneaker laces she was tying.  “I’m not telling you what it is until we get there, so stop trying to figure it out and just enjoy being on the receiving end for a change.”

He frowned while buttoning his pants, unsure as to how to respond because he didn’t know what she meant by that.  It felt like he needed to disavow something, but he wasn’t quite sure what.

Don’t.  It’s a trap, and you haven’t had enough coffee to avoid losing a leg in it.

So he kept his mouth shut, did as his girlfriend bid, brushed his teeth and was ready to go in ten minutes.  Twenty minutes after that, a car service was pulling into someplace called Fort Wilderness Campground. 

“Campground?” he asked, glad that his disbelieving eyes were concealed by sunglasses.  Camping was not his thing.  Nor was wilderness.  He was a city boy, with a little cowboy in his heart.  He was not Daniel fucking Boone.

The counselor’s eyes were equally concealed with shades and her facial expression gave away nothing as she returned a simple, “Yep.”

Both were silent during the drop-off and ensuing hike that brought them, finally, to something called the Tri-Circle-D Ranch.  Telling him to wait by the gate, she went over to talk to someone with a name badge, and the next thing Jon knew, Charlie was gesturing for him to join her. 

“Jon, this is Chris,” she introduced him to the name-badged guy.  “We’re going horseback riding and he’s going to be our guide.  Surprise.”

“We’re doing what?”  While it wasn’t as Daniel Boone as he’d feared, it was no less surprising.

“Horseback riding,” she laughingly repeated.  “You said the other day at Tony and Lilah’s that you liked it.”

Looking down into the eyes that shimmered with glee and eagerness for his reaction, Jon realized that she’d taken an off-hand remark to heart.  He wasn’t exactly longing to be on the back of a beast that had a mind of its own, but while it wasn’t something he would’ve voluntarily sought out, she was really excited about doing this for him.  That meant he was going to be excited about doing it, too.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawled in his best cowboy accent.  “You can be thoughtful.”

Something about his airy banter hit her the wrong way, because her shoulders went and stiff and wooden as her smile.  “Sometimes.  Let’s go.  The next group leaves in ten minutes.”

Not knowing what he’d said that was responsible for the change of attitude, Jon debated whether to ask.  He’d nearly decided to bite the bullet and risk an argument on the last day of their vacation when she looked over her shoulder with the Disney grin in place.  “I can’t wait to see you on a horse.  I’m totally taking pictures of that.”

“Might as well,” he carelessly agreed, relieved to avoid drama.  “If a person’s soul could really be stolen by a photograph, I would’ve lost mine a million pictures ago.”

The ride was nice, and Jon did enjoy being on a horse again.  It brought back good memories from a time when he had the world by the balls, and the trail was secluded enough that it invited him to indulge in the memories.  It was the relaxation he’d been missing on this adventure.

By the time they returned to the stable, he was feeling a little bit of that mouse juice himself and was oddly reluctant to see their Disney time come to an end.  It might be fun to stay in one of those themed resorts for a couple more nights.  Jesse’s game wasn’t until Saturday.  They could leave here early that morning and still make the game.

Deciding that it was the way to go, Jon stood by and waited for his fair maiden to dismount her noble steed so that he could present the suggestion.  He was just reaching for her hand when “It’s a Small World” pealed from her back pocket, making him swear under his breath.  He’d be hearing that cricket’s voice for the rest of the day now.

“You’ve gotta change that ringtone unless you want me to go insane.” 

“I hear there are better ways to go crazy,” she teased, sliding a lithe arm around his waist just before answering the call with a briskly professional, “Charlie Del Vecchio.”

Except in that moment, she wasn’t Charlie.  The counselor had stepped forward to take the reins and the chameleonic change fascinated him.  He might have to start calling her Eve, from The Three Faces of Eve movie about the woman with multiple personalities.  

“I’m sorry, what?”  Thoughts of movies and multiple personalities were left in the dust when he heard how much tension radiated from those few words.  Jon was further put on edge when she eased away from him to drift toward a split-rail fence while demanding, “When?”

As much as he wanted to know what was going on, Jon gave her the space and privacy that she was entitled to while still keeping a close eye on her body language.  There was a dark frown that compressed her mouth but managed to stretch all the way to her brow.  It was equally compressed, with sable eyebrows scrunched low over eyes that were fixed on some point in the distance as she listened to what the caller was saying.

When she wobbled on her feet reached out to grip the fence, Jon no longer gave a fuck about space or privacy.  A few long strides had him securing her waist from behind and blatantly eavesdropping to the very end of the conversation.

“Okay, well….  Thank you for calling.  I'll be in touch.”

Trembling fingers disconnected the call while her other hand wrung the life out the fence rail.  Still staring off into space, she didn't turn or speak. 

Jon bound both his temper and impatience, instinctively sensing that she didn’t need him adding to whatever had just transpired, but he had to know.  Stepping around to her left side, he tucked her rigid body into his and gently prodded, “Chiara?  What is it?”

When her head pivoted slowly toward him, Jon’s gut twisted into a violent knot with the realization that the short phone conversation had physically affected her beyond the shaking hands.  All the color had seeped from her tear-streaked face, and she lifted pools of liquid cocoa to look helplessly up at Jon.

"Owen's dead."

Oh, fuck.  What have I done?