Epilogue

One Year Later…

“No.” 

Clouds hanging heavy over the sky outside the nursery windows had cast shadows in the room and across Jon’s face, Sheridan discovered when the single belligerent word prompted her to look up from brushing the light blonde of Nicky’s flyaway hair.  Her reward for being concerned about her husband’s mood?  One sharp hit of his infamous stink-eye before he shifted his gaze sharply to Noelle. 

“Nicky, stop that!  It hurts Mommy,” she admonished her son, who had taken to biting with the appearance of his very first tooth.  As it was this time, her shoulder was most often his chosen victim, but he wasn’t picky – the shoulder of anyone holding him would do just fine. 

Like father, like son…

She turned her attention to the father then, still unsure as to what he was being surly about.  “’No’, what?”

Jon lifted his eyebrow at her as though she should know perfectly well what had prompted his pissy face and flicked another look to their daughter.  “Change her into one of those cute little pink, frilly things she has.”

Following his line of vision, Sheridan smothered a smirk.  The little girl was toddling around the nursery, her pink leggings bunched around her bare ankles.  The ruffled, leopard-print tunic edged with pink lace swirled around her pudgy knees as she separated her stuffed sheep from Nicky’s cars on the tiny table in the center of the floor.

“That IS pink and frilly.”  Sheridan smiled innocently at her annoyed husband.  He absolutely could not stand the sight of leopard print on Noelle, because his mind forever associated leopard print with his sex kitten and he wanted his daughter as far from sex kitten as he could keep her.  Honestly, sometimes Sheridan did it just to push his buttons.

“Oh bullshit,” he muttered, striding for the blue-eyed baby who grinned wide when she saw him, immediately stretching out her little arms so that he could swing her onto his hip.  “Just get the damn thing and I’ll change her myself.  Why did you buy this?”

“I didn’t.  It was a birthday gift from Riley.”

“Your sister is the devil in a bra,” he grumbled under his breath while plopping himself and Noelle down in the white upholstered chair next to the windows. 

Sheridan couldn’t help but chuckle as he stripped the offensive tunic off of their daughter and distastefully flung it toward the crib.  That earned her another stink eye when she passed him a pink t-shirt and pants that closely mirrored Nicky’s blue shirt and pants.  It was what she had planned on Noelle wearing all along. 

“I’m going to go change clothes,” she informed him, dipping in to plant a quick kiss on his temple and then dipping lower to blow on Noelle’s bare tummy.  “Will you keep an eye on the twins?  Hal will be here for the interview in about twenty minutes.”

One hand curled firmly around the squirming toddler, his other snaked into her hair and vivid blue eyes went from surly to sultry.  “Can’t we postpone this thing?  I’d rather take a ‘nap’ with you.”

It gratified her beyond all reason that this man still lusted after her like a horny teenager, even in her post-pregnancy state.  Regardless of how hard she tried, things just weren’t as firm as they’d been before she simultaneously carried two babies.  Despite that gratification, she still had to disappoint him this time around.

“We’ve put the poor man off for a year, Jon.  Business first, ‘nap’-time later – after the twins are asleep.”

He huffed only slightly before shooing her away.  “Then go already so we can get this over with and put the rugrats to bed.”

Slowly shaking her head and snickering, Sheridan heard him jabbering quietly to Noelle as Nicky banged one of the sheep with a truck.  “What the hell has mommy done to you, huh?  Tell her my little girl is an angel, not a kitten and I won’t put up with that nonsense.  No I won’t....  Nicky, be careful, buddy.  Don’t smash your fingers.”

Shaking her head with amusement, Sheridan slipped out leaving her son, daughter, husband and whole heart in the nursery.

Two years ago she never would’ve believed herself to be happily married to a rock star and loving every minute of mothering twins.  Was it easy?  No, but easy had never been her thing.  She liked the challenge of motherhood and the challenge of keeping up with her overachieving husband. 

Jon rarely sat still, even during his typical August vacation in the middle of the tour, and kept himself involved in a number of humanitarian projects at any given time.  His drive and ambition kept them both busy as she sought to support him and his endeavors in every way she could. 

He returned the favor and support by being a very hands-on father when he was home.  On more than one occasion, he’d sent her for a day out while he took care of the babies.  It didn’t matter that he usually ended up employing Amy or Margaret to help him do it.  He handled it without her and something that little that meant the world to Sheridan at times. 

Pushing into the master suite, she took a glance out the window and saw that the clouds were parting to let the sunshine push its way into the summer afternoon.  That moment reminded her of her life, in a way.  A Jamaican storm had rolled in a bevy of thunderclouds only to have them part way for the brightness of her happy future.

If you can just get through the storm, there’s a whole new world to be discovered after the rain.

What About Now?

Hal Bugliotti

It’s the name of the latest Bon Jovi album, and it’s everyone’s (my) question to the band’s front man, Jon Bon Jovi as he takes a break from his worldwide tour to return to his New Jersey home and celebrate his twins’ first birthday.

One year ago, I brought you the inside story on how Bon Jovi, 51, and his wife Sheridan King Bongiovi first met and fell in love.  Now the couple has graciously opened up their home so that readers can get a sneak peek into one of the most closely guarded private lives in rock and roll.

Upon arrival at the Bongiovi home, I am greeted by a staff member, to no surprise, but she didn’t escort me to the formal living room as one would expect.  Instead, she guided the way up the nearest staircase, saying that the Bongiovis were awaiting me in the nursery.

That’s when I knew this wasn’t going to be a typical Jon Bon Jovi interview, and I said as much to him when we shook hands.

“Yeah, well, there’s not much typical about me when I’m at home,” he responded glancing affectionately at the two toddlers playing in the middle of the airy, pastel room.  “Those two don’t allow for typical.”

Mrs. Bongiovi apologized for the unorthodox setting of the interview, stating that it was easiest to keep the children contented in their own space and that she was all about keeping the children contented.  Of course, my mind immediately wondered where the nanny was.  All of the rich and famous have nannies, right?

“No,” Sheridan said with a firm shake of the head.  “My children, my responsibility.  If they turn out to be a menace to society, you’ll know exactly who to blame.”

To which her husband arched a skeptical eyebrow and uttered a dry, “Me?”

There was a bit of good-natured bantering between the two before I was offered a seat in a comfortably stuffed white armchair by the bank of windows that looked out onto the Navesink River.  Jon settled himself into the wooden rocker, while Sheridan perched on one of the tiny toddler chairs at a matching table to gently referee her son, Nicholas (often referred to as Nicky), and daughter, Noelle.  Nicholas insisted upon ruining his sister’s neat row of little stuffed animals with a rampaging Harley-Davidson motorcycle.

With the children now contentedly playing, I considered it time to get serious about my interview before time slipped away. 

HAL:  Jon, how is it being a brand new father again at the ripe old age of 51?

JON:  Ah, yanno, it ain’t all that bad.  But I’ve been on tour the last few months, so I’ve missed out on some of the hard part – midnight feedings and all that.

SHERIDAN:  Not all of it, though, since he took me and all six kids to Europe for a couple of weeks in June.  That was fun. 

HAL:  The way you roll your eyes, I have to ask how so?

JON (snickering):  My keyboardist, David Bryan, is a monumental pain in the keister.  Practical joker through and through and he kept bugging Sheridan about not having a nanny.  Said he couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t want to sleep through the whole night. 

SHERIDAN:  So I made HIM my nanny.  The twins spent a night in his hotel room and came back to me more spoiled than ever.  He taught Noelle to play the maracas like her daddy whenever she hears “Keep the Faith”.  The only problem is that Nicky wanted a turn and she didn’t want to share, so she whacked him in the face with them.  The black eye lasted long after our trip to Europe.

HAL:  Jon, what do your older kids think about the twins?

JON:  They love ‘em.

HAL:  But weren’t they shocked at first?  I understand that this wasn’t exactly something the two of you had planned out.

JON:  No, this wasn’t a finely executed plan.  My kids needed time to adjust, just like we did, but now Nicky and Noelle could be any more cherished.  My kids take care of each other and the twins are no exception.  Romeo’s happy not to be the baby anymore. 

HAL:  Speaking of shocking, Sheridan...  You had a bit of a sideline career at the beginning of the marriage.  Some writing for Cosmopolitan Magazine? 

SHERIDAN:  I did.

HAL:  And... Are you going to continue with a writing career in that vein?

JON:  Sheridan writes strictly for personal pleasure now.  MY personal pleasure. 

SHERIDAN (smiling):  My career is my family.  Whatever keeps them safe and happy is my job.

HAL:  So nothing outside of your family then?  No pet projects?

SHERIDAN:  I didn’t say that.  I’m very involved with the local library and some other organizations that are dear to my heart and Jon’s.

HAL:  Yes, that’s right.  You’ve recently become involved with efforts to improve the lives of autistic children.  A one-on-one individualized reading program geared specifically to those who are unable to live with their families.

SHERIDAN:  That’s right.  They seem to benefit from the auditory contact.

HAL:  How did you become drawn into that area?  Does it have anything to do with Elizabeth Miller?

Elizabeth Miller was recently convicted of violating a number of HIPAA privacy laws.  Those privacy laws impacted the Bongiovis specifically, placing them in the media spotlight a number of times during the past year.  The Bongiovis originally filed civil charges against Miller, but later withdrew them.  Miller’s son is autistic.

SHERIDAN:  Children’s reading is my passion and always has been.  I owned a chain of bookstores for a number of years whose primary focus was children’s literature.

JON:  The “Sit, Stay, Read” program is another of Sheridan’s involvements. 

“Sit, Stay, Read” has school-age children improving their reading skills by reading aloud to dogs.  Jon revealed previously that seeing Sheridan do a news interview about the program on the news was a key factor in their early relationship.

Noticing that Jon has begun checking the face of his ever-present watch, I know that he’s growing weary of the questions.  My time and opportunity is drawing to a close, but I can’t let it pass without taking the money shot that every journalist in the world would long to take.

HAL:  So the two of you have nothing to do with an anonymously funded scholarship at Fernhill Academy?  Of which Elizabeth Miller’s son is the recipient?

Fernhill Academy is a residential school for children with autism, where Miller’s son is living while she serves her sentence.   It was only a fleeting change in expression, but from the look on her face, Sheridan Bongiovi had no idea that any such scholarship existed.  Jon, however, didn’t blink.

JON:  I won’t say I’m familiar with the name, but there are a lot of anonymously funded scholarships out there.  People in a position to do so want to help someone besides themselves, without any accolades.  I say more power to them.

At that point, little Nicholas toddles over to his father, holding up the motorcycle with a wide four-toothed grin.  It’s difficult to understand the boy, but the words sound a lot like “dada” and “poo”, and I can’t keep a sly smirk off my face as Jon keeps his son at a slight distance.

HAL:  It looks like you’re a hands-on dad, then?  Changing diapers and all that?

JON (grimacing before turning a charming smile toward his wife):  I can.  But I give her an obscene check for every one she doesn’t make me change.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is the real inside scoop on Jon and Sheridan Bongiovi.  Poopy diaper bribes among the rich and famous.  You heard it here first.

We hope that you've enjoyed Jon and Sheridan's story and we appreciate you!  Thanks to you for your ongoing support.  

~♥blush & Audra  

123 - Labor of Love

The pounding in his chest wasn’t getting any better as his wife pushed.  He was about to be a daddy – again – and he was unaccountably scared shitless.  He should be used to this.  He had four kids for God’s sake.  None of them had been dropped on their heads or ruined beyond repair.  Why was he worried about this one.

Not this ONE.  These TWO. 

Twins.  It was going to be an entirely different scene with double trouble and he was damn nervous about being responsible for a pair of girls who couldn’t tell him what they wanted or needed.

“Jon.”  Sheridan’s voice was just sharp enough to draw his head out of the fog of near panic between contractions. 

He fixed an easy, relaxed smile to his face and focused his attention on her.  “What is it, Kitten?”

“I love you, but your duck paddling can NOT take priority right now.  Seizure-riddled cat takes priority today.  Stay with me.  Please.”

The superficial smile found roots and grew for the woman who knew him so very well.  “Yes, dear.  Sorry.”

“Thank- Oh!”  The next contraction had her head and shoulders lifting off the bed, bowing up and following the encouraging instructions for “One big push”. 

The next directive of “Again” had the relative quiet of the delivery room split with the cry of a newborn child.

“And here’s your little girl,” Dr. Orbuch announced cheerfully, placing the messy, squirming bundle on Sheridan’s chest.  Tiny arms and legs flailed in the air with fingers splayed outward as her little lungs got their very first workout.  Her sparse hair was too wet to distinguish the color accurately, but it looked to be some shade of blonde.  Her wrinkly little face was just as pink as it could be and the little button nose was appropriately dainty for a baby girl.

Jon’s eyes misted and his heart ached as it stretched wider to give his newest baby as much room as her siblings.  Each one of his children was different, but they all had their own irrevocable space staked out in his heart.  That included daddy’s newest girl, with the scrunchy blue eyes. 

She was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Kitten?”   

“That’s Noelle,” his wife breathed, arching her neck to get a better look at their first daughter.  “Noelle Catherine.”

Sheridan had been nothing short of amazing during the six hours of labor, taking each contraction in stride.  The months of research had evidently paid off, because once she equated what she was feeling to what she had read, his wife had pretty well taken control of the situation. 

There had been none of the stereotypical emasculation of the man who did this to her, no cussing, no crying, no screaming.  Sheridan had simply calculated the time between contractions, requested the epidural when they hit the right intervals and had a baby.  Jon would swear she hadn’t even broken a sweat – up until the moment he saw a droplet running over the arch of her cheek.  It wasn’t until it was followed by three more than he realized they were tears.

“Hey, hey…” he crooned, wiping them away with a fingertip and squeezing the hand he hadn’t released since arriving at the hospital.  “You did good!  There’s nothing to cry about.”

 “I know,” she sniffled, her eyes never straying from the tiny new life cradled against her bosom.  “I just need a minute.”  Watery green eyes flicked up to lock with his for a split second.  “She’s real Jon.  Noelle isn’t just a name anymore.  She’s a living, breathing child.  Our child.  My heart isn’t big enough for the love inside of me right now.”

The words came rushing back to him like a re-run from the hot Jamaican beach where they spent their honeymoon.  He had told her almost exactly the same thing when she was freaking out over not being able to love a poppy seed. 

“That feeling…  On Christmas morning... That’s exactly what you’ll feel like when they hand you your baby for the first time – only better.  There won’t be enough room in your heart to hold all the love.  I promise that if you don’t feel that way, I’ll buy you another car.”

If it had been any other time or any other place, he would’ve given her a hard time about being right.  Too full of love for both his wife and daughter to say ‘I told you so’, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “I knew I wasn’t gonna have to buy you that car.”

Her lips quivered a bit around the edges of a teary smile as a nurse swept Noelle away for vitals and cleanup.  “Lucky for you.  I was going to ask for a minivan.”

“Alright, Sheridan.  Are you ready to do this again?” Dr. Orbuch overrode Jon’s quiet chuckle with the business of their other daughter’s imminent arrival.  “The second baby’s crowning.”

Jon’s hand tightened briefly around hers and he nodded with encouragement.  Considering the ease and grace with which she’d delivered the first baby, this was going to be another quick walk in the park.  He just knew it. 

“Nicole’s ready, Kitten.  It’s time to make our family complete.” 

It was only a matter of moments before his wife had stoically gone through the necessary motions and a lusty wail filled the room.  Nicole Suzanne had arrived and she was wanted the world know it. 

“Well that’s a surprise,” the doctor mused dryly, causing Jon’s forehead to furrow with concern.  She placed the baby on Sheridan’s chest just as she had done the first, informing them, “Your son has ten fingers, ten toes and is a hide-and-seek champ already.”

Eyes glued to the squirming infant, Jon’s heart grew to five times its usual size when he confirmed that there was, indeed, outdoor plumbing on their second child. 

“You beautiful, beautiful woman,” he crowed, planting an enthusiastic kiss on top of Sheridan’s head and laughing with delight.  “It’s a boy!”

The green eyes he loved so much were swimming with confusion.  He could visibly see her trying to make this unexpected piece of the puzzle fit into her pre-assembled, organized picture.   “A boy?  But...  I bought pink teddy bears... and named him Nicole.”

❧❧❧

“You threw Mommy for an awful loop, Nicholas Anthony,” Sheridan chided softly to the bundled baby in her arms. 

It was almost midnight and all was quiet in the Bongiovi family hospital nest.   After his boys had visited with their new siblings, Jon had taken them home and was going to get some rest before coming back in the morning.  Noelle was sleeping quietly in a bassinette within arms’ reach, her little pink skull cap peeking out from the brightly printed receiving blanket. 

She brushed a gentle fingertip down her son’s pink cheek and his perfectly bowed lips parted, working hungrily before closing again.  “I was all set for two little girls and then there was you.  I don’t think you understand how Mommy operates, sweetheart.  I like to know what’s going to happen.  I like to make plans and you did not give me time to plan.”

Touching the tiny cleft in his chin and marveling at how beautifully perfect he was, she continued on in a soothing lecture. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?  Hmm?  You’re going to always keep me guessing, aren’t you?  Probably at your daddy’s urging.  If there was any way he could have a hand in this, I would swear he did, just to ruffle Mommy’s feathers.

“Well, I just want to warn you that Aunt Riley is going to expect accolades from you for the rest of her life.  She’s bringing a non-pink outfit for you tomorrow and considers herself your savior.  Of course, I’d be surprised if Daddy doesn’t call Uncle Tico and get a full line of Rock Star Baby wear.  You’ll be wearing black leather and skulls before you know it.”

“Tony’s sending him a little leather Harley jacket.”  Sheridan’s head snapped up to confront her stealthy-footed husband, who stood over the bassinette, his broad palm was stroking Noelle’s sleeping back.  “He’s all kinds of happy to have a namesake.”

“I’m glad, but what are you doing here?”

Fatigue was digging deep trenches around his eyes as he smiled fondly.  “My wife and our brand new babies are here.  Where the hell else you think I’m gonna be?”

“Home in bed, getting some sleep.”  She tried to be stern, but in truth, she was glad to see him.   This first night...  It seemed like something they should be sharing.

“Sleep is for pussies,” he scoffed softly, a fingertip tracing the tiny shell of his daughter’s ear.  “How ya feelin’, Kitten?”

“Tired, but okay.”

He nodded absently, his attention drifting from daughter to son as he approached the bed and cradled the baby boy’s tiny head.  “How’s my Nicky?  Did he eat?”

The tender endearment filled Sheridan’s eyes  until they spilled over with tears.  Nicky.  Of course their son wouldn’t be something so stuffy as ‘Nicholas’, and the endearment suited the youngest Bongiovi to a tee.

“Yeah,” she sniffled, grateful that Jon didn’t either notice or comment on the tears.  “They’ve both eaten and should be good for a couple of hours.  I’m supposed to be taking a nap so I can feed them when they wake up.”

“Then gimme.”  With the practiced hands of a seasoned father, he scooped up the tiny bundle and tucked him into the bassinette with his sister.  Turning back to Sheridan, he patted her hip with the back of his knuckles.  “Now scoot over.  I’ll lay with you awhile.  We’ll both catch a nap.”

Making room for him in the hospital bed, she gratefully snuggled into his chest when his arm dropped around her shoulders.  He smelled musky.  Not like cologne, nor sweaty, but simply the scent of Jon after a long day.  He smelled like bedtime. 

She took a deep, relaxing breath and her hair scraped over his t-shirt when she nodded toward the babies.  “We did that, Jon.  Those are our babies.”

“Yeah, they are.”  He sifted his fingers lazily through her hair and crossed his ankles on the bed.  “I wouldn’t have asked for this in a million years.  Not the way it happened and maybe not ever, but damned if I could be any happier right this minute.”

“Mmm...  You sure Karma wasn’t just being a vindictive bitch by bringing us back together at that party?”

His chest rumbled under her cheek as he chuckled.  “Doesn’t matter.  I still say she was my vindictive bitch.  You... me... all of us... how our lives are playing out.   I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yeah.  Me either.” 

Several moments and an untold amount of heartbeats went by as they enjoyed Karma, each other,  the babies and the sweet familial glow that surround them all.  There was something undeniably right in this hospital room – and Sheridan’s world – tonight.  There was no place she’d rather be and no one she’d rather be with – and she had the peace of knowing that Jon felt the same way. 

The best thing?  This wasn’t just tonight.  This was the rest of their lives.  Loving, fighting, together, apart, up, down and everything in between, it was always going to be them.  Some people didn’t have the luxury of knowing that deep down in their soul and Sheridan considered herself not only lucky, but blessed.

She arched her neck to press a soft kiss on the underside of her biggest blessing’s jaw.  “I love you, Jon.  Now and always.”

“Back at ya, baby.”  His arms drew tight and a lingering kiss found the top of her head.  ”Right back at ya.”
0)
~~ Every effort will be made to make the usual Thursday installment deadline.  Worst case scenario should be Friday.  Thanks!  :)

122 - Two Stooges

Mommy and Me

August 15, 2012

Exciting family news, Poppies!  Maxwell Francis Bongiovi was born at 5:00 yesterday evening, only one week late.  Cousin Max and Aunt Desiree are doing great.  Not so sure about Uncle Matt, though.  He’s been running back and forth between his house, Grandma Carol’s (where Bella and Rocca are staying) and the hospital since Max was born.  I think he’s a little tired. 

As for you and me, kids...  We’re in the home stretch.  The doctor says you aren’t technically scheduled to arrive until September 18^th, but you could come at any time and be perfectly healthy now.  So, could we move this along please?  I’m swelling up like a puffer fish, I have rolls on my swollen ankles and this heat is absolutely killing me.  I can barely move around the house.

On the bright side, I got to tell your daddy “I told you so” for getting the nursery finished so early.  There’s no way I could finish it now. 

Uncle Richie is coming for a visit this weekend.  His new solo album is finished and he wants to share it with us before the release date, which, coincidentally enough, is September 18^th.  Daddy’s excited for him, but he’s also excited for the band’s new album they’re going to finish recording while Uncle Richie is here.  He loves it when the boys come to play with him.

Big sigh.  Even though Richie’s the only one actually staying at the house, it still means that we will have all of your “uncles” underfoot this weekend – along with your brothers.   That’s way too many guys in the house, my darling daughters.  I might have to see if Aunt Riley or Suzy want to come for a visit, too.

Would you like to know a secret?  I actually like having people in the house – even if they ARE a bunch of boys.    I should go make sure Margaret remembered to get extra pantry supplies to feed the troops…

❧❧❧

“Whassup, Stormy?”  Richie loped into the kitchen, hooking one finger in the handle of the refrigerator and popping the door open with one sharp tug.  His shaggy head disappeared behind the stainless steel barrier for a moment before he resurfaced with a bottle of water. 

Sheridan glanced up from her iPad and iced tea with a little smile.  She supposed he was never going to let go of that nickname, but she was getting used to it.  More importantly, she was getting used to him.  Gone was that little bit of tension that had come when he entered the room, brought on by uncertainty as to what he was going do or say next.  He was genuinely a good guy, who occasionally had problems.  No more, no less.

Once she realized that, she was grateful to resume the comfort that they’d shared before the ‘incident’ in his kitchen.  Because of his closeness with Jon, he was going to be a part of their family’s lives and it was nice to feel good about that.

“Just trying to find some suggestions on comfortable sitting positions for a humpfront whale.”  She shifted on the chair and adjusted the lumbar cushion at the dip of her spine.  “My back is killing me today.”

Richie snorted and propped himself up against the island and crossed his ankles as the blue bottle cap spun closed under his fingers.  “Humpfront whale?  Sounds like something Lemma came up with.”

“He doesn’t get credit for that one,” she sniffed haughtily.  “David isn’t the only quirky mind around.”

“Kinky mind?” the man in question crowed cheerily as he stepped into the room and also dipped into the refrigerator for water.  “Did someone call me?”

Richie’s open hand whipped out lazily, his knuckles hitting David’s ribcage with a dull ‘thunk’.  “Not kinky, ya perverted fuck.  Quirky.  Stormy called herself a humpfront whale.  She was being quirky.”

“Damn.”  The curly headed man’s expressive mouth arched downward in disappointment.  “There was humping and I missed it?  The boss man and his fuckin’ work ethic is seriously cramping my exquisite timing.”

Sheridan rolled her eyes and was preparing to offer up a catty retort when a sharp pain on the right side of her stomach sucked a loud push of air from her lungs.  Both men’s faces went serious and they took a step toward her with concern. 

“Stormy?  You okay?”

Oh my God.  Was that a contraction?

She sat very still with her hand on her stomach, fearful of moving.  It was with only the slightest inclination of her head that indicated she was fine.

“Sheridan are you sure?”

Feeling nothing else amiss after the long pause, she leaned back into the chair and pivoted her face toward David.  With a curious cock of her head, she asked, “Excuse me?  I think that’s the first time you’ve ever called me by my actual name.  Who are you and what have you done with the Slinky-headed smartass that usually resides in that body?”

“Oh I see how you are!  It was a pitiful attempt for attention and sympathy.”  He waggled one finger at her in front of a suspiciously squinted eye.  “Don’t be playing the false labor shit, girlfriend.  It ain’t cute.”

“Yeah, don’t be messing with us,” Richie concurred.  “I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett – and don’t fuckin’ wanna know, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah, because I want two of the Three Stooges bringing my daughters into the world,” she laughed just before her belly rippled painfully for a second time.  This time she withheld the gasp, but her hand tightened fiercely around the iced tea glass she had just reached for. 

Oh my word.  I think I’m going into labor…

“David, where’s Jon?”

Peering at her from beneath a furrowed brow, he offered slowly, “In the studio with Teek.  Why?”

Her chin tipped up and she looked from David’s blue eyes to Richie’s brown, her mouth set in a flat line as fear fluttered its wings inside of her.  She wasn’t ready for this.  It wasn’t time.  She was supposed to have a full month left to prepare herself! 

Well, your daughters have different ideas and you don’t get the luxury of a meltdown until they’re taken care of.  Get a grip!

“Would you go get him please?” she requested, carefully keeping her voice both calm and even.  “Tell him I’m sorry to interrupt, but I'm pretty sure he's about to be a daddy again.”

121 - Showered with... Love?

Mommy and Me

August 3, 2012

Tomorrow is the big day, Poppies.  It’s baby shower time!  Doesn’t that sound like fun?

I didn’t think so either, but your Aunt Riley and Aunt Suzy insist. 

Not that Mommy doesn’t enjoy a good baby shower.  I had a wonderful time at Aunt Desiree’s two weeks ago, in fact, but I’m not all that excited about being the center of attention – and I don’t trust Aunt Riley.  I’ve very specifically asked not to have silly, embarrassing games and I just know she’s going to completely disregard my wishes.  I’ll end up wearing a toilet seat on my head or something equally ridiculous.

Mommy is a good sport though.  She will soldier on with a smile – and then kill Aunt Riley in private. 

The thing I am looking forward to  is dinner afterward.  Daddy and I are getting together with some of the other ladies from the shower and their husbands for dinner.  Aunt Suzy and Uncle Karl, Aunt Riley and Uncle Mitch, Aunt Melissa and Uncle Cole, Aunt Desiree and Uncle Matt, Aunt Lexi and Uncle David.  Aunt Lexi and Uncle David are hosting because, other than Aunt Des, they live closest to us. 

Besides, Aunt Des is in no condition to be hosting a dinner party since her baby is due in just a few days.  Oh, and did I tell you?  They’ve decided to name him Max – Maxwell Francis.  Francis is Grandpa John’s middle name.

I’m glad your daddy and I have finally come to terms on your names. 

Noelle (because I like it and it’s Christmassy) Catherine (Aunt Riley’s middle name)

Nicole (Mommy’s middle name and the feminine of Nicholas, which is also Christmassy) Suzanne (for Aunt Suzy)

Jesse shares Uncle Matt’s middle name (also the name of your great-grandfather Louis) and Romeo has Daddy’s name, so Daddy had wanted to name one of you after Uncle Tony.  He doesn’t have a namesake yet.  Mommy would love to do that, but the girl-versions of his name are just awful:  Antonia and Michaela.  I adore your Uncle Tony, but I love you even more.  I can’t saddle either of you with one of those names for the rest of your life.  Fortunately, Daddy agrees with me.

So the final answer is that you shall be Noelle and Nicole – the Bongiovi twins due to arrive in 6 very short weeks!  I can’t wait!  It will sure be nice to hold you in my arms instead of my belly. 

❧❧❧

In deference to the heat, dinner was a simple affair.  David grilled – steaks, lobster tail and chicken – while Lexi prepared side dishes of salad, baked potatoes, and asparagus.  Dessert was refreshing berry and whipped cream parfaits.

“Hey, you have to admit it was nice!” Riley declared, putting her white wine back on the huge rectangular dining room table, where the six couples were chatting comfortably after their meal.  “Elegant and refined, just like you asked.  I deserve a pat on the back for that, don’t you think?”

“Seriously?  Because you didn’t embarrass me in front of Jon’s mother, aunts and cousins, you think that warrants praise?”  Sheridan snorted, shifting to one hip and rubbing the side of her belly.  “Geez Riley, I would hope that would automatically be your game plan.”

“Okay, I’m just sayin’,” Desiree piped in.  “Embarrassment is a badge of pride at a Jersey baby shower.  Do you not remember just two weeks ago that my sister put melted candy bars in diapers and wanted us to sniff them to guess what kind they were?  Yeah, our family wouldn’t bat an eye at anything Riley came up with.  Your family would be the ones embarrassed.”

“What?  There was no candy baby shit at this thing?” Matt demanded in a tone of affront.  “Jesus, Jon, I didn’t realize you married high society.  I don’t think this is gonna work out.”

Her husband gave his brother a sneaky grin as he twirled the remains of his wine in the glass.  Winking at Sheridan, he drawled lazily, “There’s nothing wrong with being married to a good girl, Matty.  Not one damn thing.”

Game face, Sheridan.  Do not blush… do not get embarrassed… do not let them see you sweat.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she acknowledged calmly, meeting Jon’s gaze head-on without any outward display of her discomfort. 

His dazzling white smile lit up the tan lines of his face as he draped an arm over the back of her chair.  In a move any ventriloquist could admire, his lips scarcely moved when whispering, “Well done.”

“Well, then, I don’t feel the teeny-tiniest bit bad about hosting this event,” David crowed, kicking back in his chair and bringing his right ankle to prop upon his left knee.   “You are, after all, living in Jersey now.  And since you won’t name the babies Ginger and Mary Ann…  Game on.”

“David, what are you going on about?”  To say the man was sometimes cryptic would be an understatement.  He had a random, obscure thought process.  Things that made perfect sense in his mind left those around him scratching their heads in confusion.

“You got your tasteful baby shower,” Riley spoke up, quickly followed by Melissa.

“Now you get your NOT-so-tasteful...”

Suzanne finished with “AFTER-baby shower.”

Sheridan’s eyes narrowed with confusion and she spoke quietly from the corner of her mouth to Jon.  “Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue,” he returned in the same manner.

David’s face was a study in pure devilry when requesting, “Lex, go get the gifts would ya?”

“Gifts?”  Accusatory eyes shot to her sister.  “Riley, what’s going on?”

Her sister cackled as evilly as any witch in the famous Disney cartoons while Mitch’s mouth twitched with amusement.  In fact, looking around the table, she could see that everyone’s eyes were dancing with mischief.

“They’re all in on this,” she sighed resignedly, slumping back into the chair and casting a glance to her husband.  “That can’t be good.”

Chuckling quietly, he put his hand on her neck, kneading the muscles that were fraught with anticipatory tension.  “You got the baby shower you wanted.  Whatever it is, you can afford to be a good sport with a few semi-drunk friends and family.”

“Yes, dear,” she muttered compliantly, arching into his touch.  “You keep that up and I’ll do anything you want.”

Overhearing her words, David barked, “Hey!  No kinky shit at my dining room table.  I’ve still gotta eat here after you perverts go home!”

Lexi laughed as she leaned between Jon and Sheridan to drop several gaily adorned gift bags on the table .  “Yes, but the biggest pervert of all IS at home.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, clamping a long-fingered hand over her derriere when she returned to her own seat and gave it a firm squeezing.  “You say the sweetest things...”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Sheridan finally huffed, certain that he could go on forever without her finding out what this crew was up to.  She waved a hand at the bags.  “Is anybody going to tell me what this is all about?”

“I will,” Suzanne piped up, leaning eagerly forward to rest her arms along the edge of the table.  “The baby shower today was about gifting the babies.  Tonight, we’re gifting the parents.”

“Things for after the babies are born.”  Desiree’s smile was neutral enough, but the way her husband coughed into his hand spoke volumes.

It was with curiosity that Sheridan eyed the assorted sized gift bags, overflowing with a rainbow of tissue paper.  It was with distrust that she eyed their friends and family. 

“Stop gawking and open something, Super-sized Siren,” David chortled, pulling his ankle up onto his opposite knee to the chorus of disbelieving groans spewing out of the party’s male contingency.

“Dude, you did NOT comment on her size!”  Matt was shaking his head with sympathy at the sheer stupidity of the other man.  “It’s obviously been way too damn long since you had a pregnant woman.  I’d stay wayyy the fuck on that side of the table if I was you.”

“That’s okay, Matt,” Sheridan assured him calmly, arching a calm brow toward David as her husband swilled half of his wine with a chuckle.  “David doesn’t say anything to me he doesn’t want to eventually pay for.”

Jon loved the relationship she had with his friends.  She didn’t get bent out of shape at their shit, she just took it all in stride and gave back as good as she got – while still managing to appear gracious.  His sex kitten knew how to wear her pedigree to the fullest. 

He reached over and squeezed her knee.  “Open somethin’ or you’ll never get him to shut his trap.”

With only a delicate wrinkle of her nose, she reached for a bright green bag with yellow tissue paper.  “They said ‘parents’, plural, you know.  This isn’t all on me.”

“Oh, he’s got his,” was David’s smug assurance.  “In due time, Supa Siren...”

Jon rolled his eyes and leaned forward for the wine bottle on the table.  With Lemma’s fucked up sense of humor, it never hurt to have an extra drink.

“From Cole and Melissa,” Sheridan read off the little tag before pushing aside the lemony tissue and withdrawing a silver picture frame.  Glancing over, he saw a sentiment about twins being twice as nice.  “What a beautiful frame!” 

Cole snorted and shifted in his chair.  “It’s what’s inside the frame that’s the real gift and you’d better appreciate it kiddo.  I don’t do this shit for just anybody.”

It turned out that his brother-in-law and wife had put a ‘coupon’ for babysitting services inside the frame to give the parents a free night.  He and Sheridan both thanked them and she passed the bag to put in the empty spot on the table in front of him.  With a grin, she commented, “I’m liking this so far.”

Riley’s snort was loud and obnoxious and made Jon grin.  He really did like his sister-in-law.  “Don’t get too complacent, dear sister of mine.  Open Suzy’s gift next... the big silver one.”

His wife obligingly reached for the biggest of the packages, extracted the glittery black tissue paper and groaned out loud as she peered at the contents.  “Suzanne!”

Her BFF was unconcerned about Sheridan’s horror at the yet-unseen contents.  “Don’t blame me, blame Mother Nature.  You’ll be singing my praises when you have reach for the hemorrhoid cream and those are the best nursing bras ever!  And if you have a vaginal delivery...”

“NEXT!”  David bellowed loudly with a sweeping arm motion and Jon could almost kiss the Jewish prick.  Nature was nature, but did they really have to discuss the nitty gritty details at a dining room table? 

“Jonny boy, the smallest one there is for you.”  The keyboardist’s grin had enough teeth visible to put a great white shark to shame.  “From me.”

“Christ a’mighty,” he muttered, putting his wineglass on the table as Sheridan passed him the black bag that looked leftover from David’s 50^th birthday, proclaiming ‘It’s The Big One’.  God only knew what the sick and twisted mind of David Bryan had deemed appropriate for this event. 

Jon didn’t bother pulling the packing out of the bag, he merely pushed it aside and reached inside to find one of those hard plastic packages that you needed to be Wolverine to open.  Cautiously, he took a peek and immediately opted to leave it inside the bag – out of sight. 

“Oh no, no, no, no!  Whip it out there old man, because you know you’re going to at some point in the six-week ‘dead zone’.”

Before he could grab her wrist, Sheridan had snatched it away from him, peering inside.  Once she got a good look, peals of laughter bubbled from her lips.  “Oh... my... WORD!  THAT is hilarious!”

“Yeah, fucking ha ha ha,” Jon said dryly, going back to his wine.  Sometimes he hated Dave. 

“Well tell us what it is, already, dammit!”  Matt’s long goon arm reached across the table and snagged the gift from Sheridan so that he could share in the joke – and share in he did with a big belly laugh.  “It’s a pocket pussy!  Jon’s gonna get him a little latex post-partum action!”

“You’re so excited about it, you keep it,” Jon invited wryly, flipping his brother the bird.  “You’ll need it before I will.”

And on it went, back and forth between the brothers, quickly drawing in the other men at the table and becoming progressively raunchier.  The liquor flowed freely and so did the insults, innuendo and post-pregnancy war stories – from both the men and the women – as other gifts were opened.

There was sexy red lingerie from Lexi and Jon would have a few fantasies about how the scraps of string and lace would look like on his post-pregnancy wife.  Even if she didn’t bounce back to her near-perfect form, she would still be a knockout.

Lingerie was followed by an assortment of edible body paints and frostings from Desiree and Matt, which everyone had to taste-test and offer opinions on.  That suited Jon fine, because most of that stuff tasted like shit, anyway.  Now he wouldn’t feel bad about tossing it all out, unused.

Sheridan’s eyes went wide with the mug Richie had sent for the off-color occasion.  It was shaped like a breast, with a hole in the nipple so that there would be “a titty left for Jon” when the babies came.  Much to the delight of the assembled friends and family, he immediately called Sambora with a hearty “fuck you”, filled the mug with wine and popped the nipple in his mouth. 

When he plunked the mug back down in the table, it was to find his wife’s watery eyes upon him. 

“What’s the matter?”

Blinking rapidly, she shook her head and laughed.  “Nothing.  Silly hormones, I guess.  I just realized it’s been almost eight months since I had a drink.  I miss it.”

“Oh cry me a river,” Riley scoffed from her seat.  “Open the last damn bag and get over it.”

His beautiful wife didn’t say anything with her mouth, but the look she shot her sister carried a non-verbal version of War and Peace.

“Riley, you’re such a bitch,” Cole laughed at his middle sister, while the younger one hefted the heavy pink bag into her lap. 

In typical Riley fashion, she wasted no time in retorting, “You’re just jealous of my special brand of bitchery, big brother.”

“Not damn likely!  I’m just afraid you’re going to try and lure Melissa into your coven, little witch.”

“Pfft!”  Riley threw up an unconcerned hand.  “Why do you think she’s still married to you?  I showed her how to make the voodoo doll.”

The friendly sibling squabble was interrupted by Sheridan’s gasp of delight.  Turning his attention from the other Norris children, Jon caught sight of the gasp-inducing gift and grinned. 

Sheridan had her fingers wrapped around the necks of two bottles.  There was a bottle of high end tequila clutched in one hand and margarita mix was dangling lovingly from the other.  A check-sized slip of paper was tied to the tequila with a cheery red ribbon and Jon saw that it was a gift certificate for Mezzaluna.

“Tiramisu and margaritas?!” his wife sighed in wonder.  “Oh my God... I love you Riley!  This gives me hope that there really WILL be life after childbirth...”

120 - Master of Negotiations

Jon carefully turned the knob of the master suite, not wanting to awake Sheridan.  It was two in the morning, so he knew she would be sound asleep, but he needed a shower in the worst way.  He planned to duck quietly in and out, then go downstairs and have at least one glass of wine – maybe six.  However much it took to get him sleepy anyway, and then he’d join her in bed. 

It was a big surprising to him, but he’d missed sleeping with her.  He’d gotten oddly accustomed to the way she rolled over and took all the covers with her or plastered herself to his back or over his chest while he slept.  There was nothing wrong with the Four Seasons bed, other than it didn’t have his wife in it.

When he eased the door open, it was to find the lamp on her side of the bed still shining brightly.  Sheridan was propped up on the pillows, her iPad on her belly, fast asleep.  The angle with which she held her neck looked blatantly uncomfortable as her chin dug into her chest and he smiled. 

“Kitten,” he whispered, taking the iPad and placing a light hand on her belly.  “Baby... wake up and change position so you don’t get a crick.”

She snuffled sleepily, unfocused eyes blinking blindly at him for a moment before the corners of her mouth tipped up in a muzzy smile.  “You’re home.”

“I am,” he chuckled, ducking in to buss his lips over her forehead.  “Just gonna grab a shower and I’ll be to bed.”

He could forego the wine tonight.  Her softness could relax him in place of alcohol.

“Mm-kay.”  She rubbed at her right eye as she folded the covers back.  “Babies are doing flip flops on my bladder.  Let me sneak in the bathroom first.”

So he waited for her to do her thing, stripping his clothes away and tossing them somewhere in the general vicinity of the closet hamper. 

Ten minutes later, he was free of dried sweat and hair product, rubbing an open palm over his damp, shaggy locks as he returned to the bed.  Rather than being snuggled down in the bed, however, Sheridan was sitting up and wide awake. 

“How was your flight?” 

“Uneventful.  Why aren’t you asleep?”

Lifting the comforter, he slid his naked body in beside hers, draping a forearm over her waist as he nuzzled into her neck.

“I wanted to talk to you.”  She patted his arm and pulled away so that he didn’t get too comfortable. 

Talk? That could be considered the nastiest of four-letter words when a man and woman were in bed.  In his experience, nothing good had ever come from it and, considering she had stayed up until two in the morning to have this little talk. 

Fuck.  I should’ve gone downstairs for my wine.

“Can this wait until tomorrow?  I’m kind of wiped out.”

“It won’t take long,” she persisted, skating soft fingers down his left bicep.  “Please.”

Like he’d ever had a choice.

“Alright,” he grunted, scooting up to rest his back on the headboard.  “What’s up?”

She lifted his hand, bringing it to settle over the babies.  One or both of them were stirring around, doing gymnastics.  Instinctively he trailed after the phantom movement when it rippled to the other side of her abdomen.  He was momentarily so engaged in ‘playing’ with his children, that her next sentence hit him like a bombshell.

“I want us to drop the civil charges against Beth Miller.”

His eyes snapped up even as his hand continued to seek out the gentle fluttering in her tummy.  “Why the hell would we do that?”

“Because I think the criminal charges are enough.”

“Oh?”  He lifted his left eyebrow curiously as one of the twins rolled under his fingertips.  “Since when?”

 Her hand came from its resting spot on the mattress to cover his, the perpetually red-tipped fingers burrowing between his and folding under his palm.  “Since I went to see her today.  She’s just a-“

“Whoa.  You did what?”  He tried to pull his hand away, but she latched on like a piranha, refusing to let him go.

Wine would’ve definitely been the better choice.

“I know you didn’t want me to –“

“And yet you did anyway.”  The words sounded harsh and cold to his own ears.  “You went into a fucking prison, by yourself, to confront a criminal.”

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Jon.  She’s a snitch, not a murderer, and Riley went with me.  Just not in the visiting room.”

Her flippant attitude did nothing to appease his growing anger.  “Oh that makes it better!  Jesus Christ, Sheridan!  Prisons are full of every kind of criminal you can imagine.  Drug dealers, killers, abusers…  You have no idea what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten yourself into!”

“If you were so worried about it, you should have gone with me one of the dozen times I asked you to.”

As his temper grew, hers remained annoyingly blasé.  He was typically a little wired after a show, anyway, and this was just ramping up the leftover adrenaline.

“I didn’t want you going there at all!”

“And I wanted to go.  You refused to compromise, so I made alternate arrangements,” she countered stubbornly, her forehead creased with the first signs of peevishness.  His hand was released at last, pushed away with a soft snort of derision.  “Newsflash, sweetie…  Your wants don’t automatically trump mine.  I’m not one of your band members and this marriage isn’t a dictatorship.”

The fuck it isn’t.

He folded his arms over his chest and gave her a modified version of his patented stink eye.  “You’d damn well better believe it’s a dictatorship when it comes to your safety and the safety of my kids.  End of discussion.”

The snort of derision was anything but soft this time.  “Oh please!  The place was crawling with armed guards.  One of them stayed in the room with us the entire time!  Safety was never an issue!”

“If you didn’t think safety was an issue, then why did you take Riley?!”

She spun on her bottom as well as her rounded form would allow, turning to face him head-on instead of being hip-to-hip.  “To SUPPORT me!  I needed answers and she RESPECTED that need instead of ignoring it!”

Jon clamped his jaw shut, his molars automatically grinding with the tension he was repressing.  He wanted to scream at her that she was the world’s biggest dumbass for going into a prison at seven months pregnant – with twins.  His twins.  God only knew what could have happened.  There could’ve been some kind of prisoner revolt, or jailbreak or any other goddamn thing in the world that would put them in danger. 

But he held his tongue. 

Only because there was the tiniest bit of truth in what she said.  He’d known all those times that he brushed off her desire to go see this woman that she hadn’t been appeased.  Whatever justification and argument he came up with to veto the idea, right down to “because I said so”, hadn’t mollified her or changed her mind. 

He’d known that yet ignored it, simply choosing to believe she was going to meekly fall in line with his wishes.  That wasn’t the way his wife rolled and it was part of what he loved about her. 

Even so, he wasn’t going to tolerate her sneaking around. 

“Don’t ever go behind my back and willfully defy me again.”

“Don’t ever declare my wishes completely irrelevant again.”

She matched his terse, no-nonsense tone word-for-clipped-word.   He thought his teeth were sure to have compression cracks from the tight clench of his jaw. 

Do not scream.  Do.  Not.  Scream.

“I mean it, Sheridan.”

“So do I, Jon.”

And there it was.  A Bongiovi standoff, with dogged green eyes never wavering their fix on equally determined blue ones.  She simply wasn’t going to take full responsibility for this any more than he was, but… technically, they didn’t have to. 

“Fine,” he huffed.  “We both screwed up.  I’ll do my best not to let it happen again.  Fair enough?”

Shoulders that had tensed up somewhere in the neighborhood of her ears relaxed a bit and her mouth twisted into a rueful smirk.  “You still started it, but yes, that’s fair.  And I won’t willfully defy you without telling you I’m going to do it.  That’s my compromise.”

He twisted his neck, grateful for the quiet ‘snap’ that relieved a bit of the tension that had mounted there.  Mouth twisting into a similar smirk, he shook his head and dragged her around so that she was pinned against his side, the weight of his arm keeping her tucked into his shoulder.

“What the fuck ever.  Now tell me about the tattle-tale bitch.”

She jabbed him once in the stomach.  “Be nice.  She’s got… problems.”

As Jon settled in to listen with a cynical ear, his wife proceeded to tell him about the woes that prompted Elizabeth Miller to hijack their medical records and sell the information to the highest bidder.   Sure, the woman had some tough waters to navigate, but that didn’t mean she was forced to engage in illegal activity. 

“And I don’t know what she’s going to do with her son when those two years are up,” Sheridan concluded thoughtfully at the end of her tale.  “That really bothers me.”

“You’d better not be fuckin’ suggestin’ that WE pay for it.”

She paused for a moment and he was afraid that’s exactly what she was going to suggestion.  If that were the case, there would be no biting his tongue this time.  They could wake up the neighbors down the road with the screaming for all he cared.  Hell would freeze over – twice – before he’d do anything to benefit that deceitful broad.

“No, of course not,” she finally sighed.  “But I still don’t think any additional good is going to come from our pressing civil charges.  She’s already looking at mandatory criminal charges that are much steeper.  That’s enough.”

 “She did the crime; she deserves to do the time.”

“And she will,” Sheridan insisted.  “Without our help.”

“No.”

“Jon,” she cajoled, running her hand over his stomach.  “Do you remember what Zelda said?  About showing mercy?”

“Oh gawd.  Now we’re bringing the fortune teller into this?” 

She gave one quick tug to the hair on his stomach and he smacked her away as she gave him a scornful look.  “You know that girl saw things that she shouldn’t know, and I think this is what she meant.  The time has come to show mercy, Jon.  Show it.”

It was late.  He was finally getting sleepy, and Jon didn’t want to debate with her tonight.

“Maybe.  I’ll think about it.”

“Mm.  Karma has been very much involved in our life together, don’t you think?”

Now where was she going? 

“Yeah, you know I do.  What’s your point?”

Her chin lifted so she could stare pointedly into his eyes.  “Don’t force Karma to atone for your lack of compassion.  What if one of our babies isn’t picture perfect because you’re intent upon carrying out a pointless vendetta?  Did you think of that?”

Jesus Christ, enough already!

He peered down into her face, trying to read her thoughts.   “If I don’t cave on this, can I expect you to announce your willful defiance?”

Her expression was perfectly still.  She didn’t flinch a muscle when quietly avowing, “Yes.” 

And he knew she would be as good as her word.  She would contact the lawyer directly to dismiss the case if she had to.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, because she was that determined.

So maybe he didn’t want to screw with Karma.  So maybe the collegiate conjurer did know things.  So maybe he was just fucking tired and didn’t feel like disagreeing about it anymore.  Whatever the reason, he went against every fiber of his moral being and succumbed to his wife’s wishes.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he sighed.  “This chick isn’t worth it.  Fine, you win.  If that’s what you want, I’ll call my lawyer tomorrow.”

119 - When The Cat's Away

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Riley greeted her sister.  “How are you and my still unnamed nieces doing?”

Sheridan pushed her feet into a pair of sandals, glad that it was summertime and she didn’t have to worry about socks or shoes with laces.  She didn’t think she could bend over far enough to tie them.  From the glimpse she’d gotten of her toes a minute ago, though, it was time for a pedicure. 

“We’re good.  How are you?”

“I’m fine.  You do okay last night with Jon gone?”

The bed had seemed inordinately large after all the months of having him sleep at her side, but she’d rested well enough.  It had been a ridiculously lazy day after Jon left and, for the first time, she’d been grateful that they finally hired a cook and housekeeper. 

After spending the afternoon puttering with her aromatherapy supplies, she’d been served a nice chicken Caesar salad and didn’t have to clean up the kitchen.  Margaret had taken care of that, while Amy had made sure the master bath was sparkling so Sheridan could use her newest bubble bath for a long soak.  Neither woman lived on the premises, but had been nice having someone else in the house during the early evening hours. 

“Yeah.  I missed him, but it wasn’t horrible.”

She reached for a blouse to go over the white tank that was loosely stretched across her belly.  The sheer top was the same shade of navy as her capris and sandals.

“So what are your plans for the day?  I’m off today if you want me to come and hang out with you.  Or you could come into the city for lunch and a little shopping.  We still have to decide on a theme for your shower.  It’s only three weeks away.”

“My ankles are too swollen to go shopping and I told you I don’t want a themed shower.  I don’t necessarily want a shower at all, but if you and Suzy are determined, then please go with simple and classic.  White with pastel pink and blue will be fine.  And we’re not playing stupid shower games.”

The annoyed huff came over the line loud and clear.  Riley was peeved that Sheridan didn’t like traditional ‘fun’ baby showers.  She much preferred to have an event that didn’t involve women stretching toilet paper around her middle.  A nice, quiet semi-formal luncheon with a pretty cake and tea would be perfect.

“You are the world’s biggest wet blanket.  Do you realize that?”

“I’m the world’s biggest everything at the moment,” she returned dryly, rubbing her stomach affectionately, while disregarding the jab her sister was trying to deliver.  “But, in an effort to be accommodating, we can even have it on one of the terraces if it’s not too hot.  Just don’t embarrass me, Riley.  Tastefully simple.  Please.”

“Fine.  Whatever.  You can still come have lunch with me.  Or I can come to you.”

“I actually have an appointment today.” 

“Oh?  I thought your next OB appointment wasn’t until the twenty-third?”

Sheridan wrinkled her nose at her sister’s sharp memory.  It had been her intention to have this appointment without anyone knowing – at least until after the fact.  But... maybe she should tell someone where she was going.  Just in case.

“It’s not an OB appointment,” she admitted slowly, lowering herself into the wingback chair that looked out the French doors and onto the river.  It was a beautiful summer day in New Jersey.  Would she be better off staying here and enjoying it?  Or having lunch with her sister?

No.  You’ve been waiting on this opportunity for two months.  Take it, but be sensible.

“Then what is it?” Riley demanded impatiently, unaware that she was having an internal debate.

“I’m going to Bayview.”

“Bayview?  Is that a day spa?”

“No.”  Her eyes fixed blankly on a water skier zipping over the water.  “It’s the correctional facility where Elizabeth Miller is being held.”

The woman had been arraigned in short order and assigned to the medium-security women’s facility to await trial.  She’d been there for two months now and, every time Sheridan mentioned wanting to go there and confront her, Jon threw a fit. 

He declared that it was pointless, because what the woman had done was inexcusable.  She was right where she belonged doing her time awaiting the criminal trial and the paperwork was in progress for their civil suit that would follow immediately after.  He just didn’t get that Sheridan still needed to know why.  That she wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew WHY this stranger had chosen them. 

So, when she realized Jon would be out of town, Sheridan made plans to go alone.

“Are you fucking nuts?  Why are you going to visit that bitch?”

She shook her head with a rueful smile.  Her sister could be colorful. 

“I need to know what would prompt her to do something like this to us and Jon refuses to even consider me going down there.”

“So you’re going to sneak down there behind his back, and you weren’t going to tell me?  You can’t go to a prison alone, you dimwit!”

Okay... 

“So you’re not saying don’t go, but telling me you wanted to be included?”

“Hell yes, I want to be included!  You’re not the only one who wants to know why, and I can’t believe you’ve let Jon keep you away this long.”

Sheridan grinned into the phone, wondering why she was surprised.  Riley was the go-getter in the family.  Of course she would be thinking the same way Sheridan was.  Of course she would have her back.

“Well... alright then.”

“Meet you at Mezzaluna for lunch and we’ll taxi over from there.  About noon?”

“Yeah.  Noon will be fine.”  She was filled with an overwhelming affection for the sister who had been more of a best friend than a sister as they were growing up, and regretted that adulthood had taken them in separate directions for a time.  In spite of the ‘cold war’ over the egg harvest news, they were finding each other again.   Better late than never.   “I love you, Riley.”

“You’d better, or I’ll call your husband and rat you out.  He’d have bodyguards around that house faster than you can say ‘home confinement’.”

Sheridan cringed.  The truth of the matter was...  Riley was probably right.

❧❧❧

Sheridan crossed her ankles under the institutional metal chair in the visitors’ room, rubbing an absent hand over her belly as she waited alone, having been told that Elizabeth Miller was only permitted to have a single visitor at a time.  That left a very unhappy Riley still in the public area of the building, awaiting her return.

Without her sister’s incessant, outraged moral support, she was hovering on the edge of nervousness in the medium-security facility.  Her knee had started bouncing when the door opposite side of the room opened, admitting a guard and his prisoner.  Ingrained manners had her standing as Elizabeth Miller stepped inside the small room.

Now.  Now I finally get my answers.

The slight brunette with the staunchly squared shoulders was dwarfed by the baggy green prison uniform, her plain hair trapped into a serviceable ponytail at her nape.  Sullen features were drawn and detached, and her brown eyes lacked any type of life as she approached the other side of the scarred wooden table that separated them. 

Yes, she was recognizable as the woman from the catering staff, but just barely.  Face barren of any type of cosmetics and at least ten pounds lighter, the months had taken a toll on Elizabeth’s appearance, Sheridan thought as the guard retreated to the far corner.

“Mrs. Bongiovi.”

Sheridan didn’t know why it took her by surprise to hear herself called by name, but she did her best to mask it with a polite nod.  Why wouldn’t the woman know her ‘victim’? “Ms. Miller.”

“Please call me Beth.”

And manners, too.  Any nervousness she may have had dissipated in that limited exchange.  The woman wasn’t dumb and she wasn’t a common criminal.  She knew exactly what she’d done and, from the look on her face as she seated herself, held no remorse over it.

Sheridan resumed her seat.  “Alright, Beth.  You’ll forgive me if I don’t invite you to use my given name.  You’ve already been more personal with me than I’d like.”

Her mouth tightened briefly with a curt nod and she clasped her hands together on the tabletop.  “Understandable.  Now why are you here?”

Social niceties were over.  Beth wanted to get to the point, and Sheridan had no desire to spend a minute more here than was absolutely necessary.  She was all for getting to the point.

“Because I want answers.  I want to know why you chose to take my private life and make it public domain.  Why me?”  Her hand came to rest protectively on her stomach.  “Why my babies?”

Without looking at Sheridan, and focusing solely on the hands that were pale against the darkly scarred tabletop, she said flatly, “It had nothing to do with you, personally.  The timing was just coincidental at first.  I needed money when the little boy’s file popped up on my computer screen, and I didn’t feel at all bad about exposing an alcoholic.  After that was when I realized there was a market willing to pay dearly for information on your husband and everyone around him.   I just got lucky when you chose physicians who were contracted with my employer.”

Lucky?

Sheridan leaned back in her seat, almost in shock.  There was no emotion or regret in Beth’s monologue or facial expression.  It was as if she would have been a fool not to take advantage of the situation that had been presented to her.

Oh my word.  Jon was right.  This served no purpose other than to dull my opinion of humanity.

She was done. There was no satisfaction to be had here, only frustration.  She owed her husband an apology – and maybe some tiramisu. 

Ready to end this visit and swing back by Mezzaluna, her final question was almost perfunctory.  She didn’t really care about the answer, but it seemed the right to ask it, nonetheless.

“What did you need the money for?”

That seemingly mundane question was the one that broke through Beth Miller’s mask of complacency.  There was a glimmer of something softer that danced through her eyes ...  Sadness?  Pride? 

“My son.”

The two wistfully uttered words surprised Sheridan, prompting her sagging posture to straighten a bit.

“Go on.”

Beth became engrossed in repositioning her hands, left over right instead of right over left.  “Jackson is eight years old and he’s autistic.”  Her eyes leveled with Sheridan’s as her hands stilled.  “Do you know how expensive it is to get care for an autistic child, Mrs. Bongiovi?”

Eight years old.  The same age as Romeo.

“I can’t say that I do.”

“Well, I hope you never have to find out.  I’ve had him in several different schools around the city:  Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens...  None of them helped, but they still all wanted their money after I pulled him out.  Even working two jobs, I didn’t have the money to pay them AND a school that Jackson could actually benefit from.  When they threatened to foreclose on my house, I took what was in front of me – celebrity information.  I had no choice.  Surely as a mother, you can understand that.”

Once again, Sheridan was stunned into silence.  Beth still showed no remorse, but Sheridan wasn’t sure she would either, given the circumstances.  Her children weren’t born yet and she had already told Jon they would do whatever it took to keep them safe. 

“Where is your son now?”

The inmate almost smiled.  “At a residential school up in Yonkers.  They’re doing wonders with Jackson and he loves it there.”

A woman with no money had her child in a residential school?  She knew roughly how expensive the tuition for a private day school was for Jon’s children.  Residential school for a special needs child had to be astronomical.

Curiosity got the best of her and Sheridan asked, “But if you couldn’t afford the other programs, how could you possibly house him in that kind of facility?”

Again, Beth’s eyes leveled with hers.  “Where do you think all that money went, Mrs. Bongiovi?  I certainly wasn’t buying Ferragamo shoes with it.  After my prior obligations had been fulfilled, every penny I got went to Fernhill.  They’ve been paid in full for the next two years.”

“But what happens in two years?  You’ll likely still be in prison.  What happens to Jackson then?”

She shouldn’t care.  She shouldn’t be interested or worried about a child she’d never met, but Sheridan couldn’t help herself.  Two years wasn’t any length of time in a child’s life.  What about the next ten, twenty, thirty or fifty years?  What then?

“I can’t think about that yet,” Beth said with a shrug, the slight crack in her voice and tear-glazed eyes belying her indifference.  “Right now he’s getting the best care and the best help available in New York.  After that...  Well, the school has a scholarship program.  Maybe another angel will smile on me and he’ll get to stay.  We’ll just have to wait and see.”

What was left to say?  Sheridan didn’t condone what the woman had done, but she could hardly condemn her.  Could she?  If she found herself the same situation, was she sanctimonious enough to keep from replicating Beth’s mistakes?

One of the twins kicked at that moment, causing her to rub at a spot near her ribs. 

I know, baby girl.  There’s no telling what Mommy would do for you.