42 - Little Loved Ones

“Jake, get off your brother’s head!”

It was after dinner and they had been in his SoHo apartment as an entire family for no more than twenty minutes.  His two youngest were already going at one another like wild animals. 

Welcome back to life as Daddy.  Makes ya kinda glad Sheridan didn’t make you answer that volunteer question, doesn’t it?

Because, if he’d said yes, he might be seriously reconsidering now. 

It was a far cry from his occasional rock star role, or his newly acquired stint as a boyfriend.  Things definitely found a different perspective when you were more worried about kids poking each other’s eyes out than fresh seafood and a run on the beach.

“The little monster stole my Nerf darts and won’t give them back!”  Jake complained, reluctantly obeying Jon’s order and climbing off the floor, but he got in one last shot by sharply nudging Romeo’s side with his sneaker.

“Hey!  No name calling – or kicking.  You know better than that, Jacob.”  He’d promised himself he would never use the dreaded first/middle name combination when scolding his kids, but Jon had no problem going with Jake’s given first name to put a little bulk behind his daddy-ness.

The thing was that, although Jake’s actions were unacceptable, Jon understood where he was coming from.  Romeo had been sullen and contrary ever since they’d all piled into the SUV at Dot’s house, and the attitude hadn’t improved any by the end of his counseling appointment. 

It had been enough to prompt Dr. Rennicke to take Jon aside and ask if anything unusual had happened recently.  A little self-consciously, he’d been forced to admit that he didn’t know of anything, but that he hadn’t been with his son for the past few days. 

When pressed for more information, the doctor had requested Jon’s assurance that he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it with Romeo before she would reveal anything to him.  When he agreed and promised to secure the same assurance from Dorothea, Dr. Rennicke folded her hands on her desk and regarded him curiously. 

“Do you or your ex-wife drink heavily?”

It had temporarily set him off balance, and Jon thought his curiosity was probably stronger than the good doctor’s.  “I’m not a teetotaler by any stretch of the imagination, but I wouldn’t classify my drinking as ‘heavy’.  Dorothea drinks less than I do.  Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” she appeared skeptical, looking over the tops of her dark-framed spectacles in a manner reminiscent of his high school guidance counselor when she found out that Jon wanted to be a rock and roll star instead of something more ‘sensible’.  He disregarded the instant dislike for the doctor that the memory evoked and concentrated on his son.  “Romeo has acquired an interesting notion.  He seems to believe that the divorce is going to result in a bout of alcoholism severe enough to send you into rehab, thereby leaving him abandoned and uncared for.”

After swearing softly under his breath, he told her that Romeo had likely misconstrued an overheard conversation about a family member. 

Being a problem solver by nature, the first thing Jon had wanted to do was tell Romeo that he had no reason to worry over what he’d heard Mommy and Daddy talking about.  That everything would be just fine, and he and his siblings would always be taken care of.  Always.

The second was to put the fear of God into him about eavesdropping.

He did neither.  Instead he was resigned to doing the one thing he didn’t want to do, and that was call Dorothea.  No doubt she was going find some creative woman-logic to twist an innocent issue and make it intentionally his fault.

That’s why he delayed it. 

He and a surly Romeo had come back to the apartment, Jake had been left under the supervision of both Jesse and Stephanie for the duration of the appointment.   It had only taken a minimal amount of arguing to decide on pizza and he herded the entire group toward their favorite local pizza parlor.  Two hours later, they were home again and, while Romeo had come out of his shell more, he was still being obstinate with the brother who was typically his favorite playmate.

Jon flipped his wrist around and looked at his watch to check the time, and found it was eight o’clock.  There was no way he could get away with forcing them into bed for at least another hour. 

But he could take the damn Nerf guns.

“Romeo, where are the darts?” he demanded, helping the little boy to his feet, courtesy of a firm grip on his elbow. 

Out came the lip and the damn stink eye that was made all the more fierce by the darkness of his youngest’s eyes.   Jon was grudgingly impressed, but the kid didn’t have the frown lines and perpetually furrowed forehead that his old man did – or an audience that could be intimidated by it. 

“Sell it to somebody who’s buyin’ kiddo.  Hand ‘em over.”  Keeping a firm hold on the small elbow, he presented the other palm which, after some grumbling and digging in his pocket, Romeo filled with a handful of foam projectiles sporting little suction cups on the end.  “Good man.”

Releasing him, he turned to Jake.  “Go get the guns and bring ‘em to me.  You guys can have them back tomorrow.”

“But Da-ad…” Jake protested on the verge of a whine.  “I just got the targets set up in my room.”

“You can go get me the guns, or I can get ‘em.  If I go, the next place I go – with the guns – will be the homeless shelter or Salvation Army to give them away.”  He arched an intimidating eyebrow to let his son know he wasn’t bluffing.

The little blonde version of himself turned with a grumble and was taking the first steps toward the room he and Romeo shared, when the door buzzer echoed loudly throughout the apartment.  Jake made an immediate U-turn, yelling, “I got it!”

“Hold it!”

His sneakers screeched to a halt on the hardwood floor and he swung a baleful glance at his party-pooping father. 

“You don’t answer the door and you know it,” Jon scolded the boy, passing the darts into his hands and moving toward the front door.  “Get the guns and go put them on my desk while I see who it is.  You’ve got two minutes.”

This is why I run.  If I didn’t, they would give me a heart attack.

“Yeah?” he spoke into the intercom on the wall. 

“Mr. Bongiovi, I have a delivery here from Mezzaluna Cafe.” 

He frowned and shook his head, not recognizing the name.  “I’m not expecting any delivery, Lou.”

There was a pause as, Jon assumed, Lou was quizzing the delivery person on his claim.  They’d been through this once or twice with overzealous fans.  If the delivery guy was a delivery girl, chances were that the only delivery being made was a willing woman.  Fans had done crazier things.

“The guy says the order was placed by someone with the last name of King.  Sorry for the trouble, sir.  I’ll tell him he’s got the wrong address and send him away.”

“No!  Lou, wait!”  A slow grin wiped all the daddy-fatigue away, and he anxiously wondered what Sheridan had sent.  Only a few hours since he’d taken her home, and he was already missing her enough to be grateful for whatever bit of her he could get.  “I’ll take it.  Send him on up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dad?”

He turned to find his eldest – his baby girl – padding into the living room in her mismatched socks and looking at him curiously.  “Who’s coming up?”

“Just a delivery guy.”

“Oh?”  She pinned him with eyes that were so much like his own it scared him sometimes.  “What kind of delivery?”

The doorbell interrupted, saving him from having to answer.  The kid was probably eighteen or nineteen based on the way he was craning his neck to check out Stephanie.

“Here ya go,” he said, never taking his eyes from Jon’s daughter.

Stepping directly into his line of vision, Jon accepted the small Styrofoam cooler, setting it at his feet while he fumbled for his wallet. 

“It’s all paid for,” the kid told him.

Jon didn’t pause, rifling through the bills for a ten and then pushing it at the young Italiano.  “Good.  Then take this and stop ogling my daughter.”  And he slammed the door in his face.

“Daddy,” Stephanie laughed, bending to retrieve the cooler, but Jon swatted her away.  “That was mean.”

“Ask me if I care.”

He tucked the little Styrofoam box under his arm and her quiet giggle followed him to the kitchen.  Unaccountably curious as to the contents, Jon briefly wondered if should he open this in front of his daughter.  It came from a café.  It shouldn’t be pornographic, right?

Sliding it onto the counter, he glanced over his shoulder to find that Stephanie was leaning against the refrigerator with her arms and ankles crossed, patiently waiting to see the unexpected delivery. 

Hell with it.  She’s eighteen.  If it is pornographic she can probably tell me what it is.

He eased open the lid and peeked inside.  There were five separate containers – a rectangle, a square and three round bowls – along with a thick piece of folded piece of paper.  The paper looked like it was a restaurant order slip, but it had his first name written across it in a flowing hand.  With a smiley face. 

He contained this grin to a mere smirk as he plucked the note out and replaced the lid.  Flicking the top half of the paper up revealed a short note.

“Having dinner with Riley (she still won’t tell me anything!) at my favorite restaurant and remembered telling you about the tiramisu.  I thought you should try it without me first, so you can truly appreciate the flavor.  Wasn’t sure your kids would care for tiramisu, so I’m sending a couple of other things, too.  Hope they find something to enjoy.  Miss you already… S”

“Who is she, Daddy?”

He re-folded the note and made a vain effort to play stupid.

“She who, Baby Girl?”

A knowing grin slashed into her pretty face and Stephanie shook her head.  “The woman who has you looking all happy and sappy.”

There were two choices here.  Jon could either play stupid, or he could be honest.  Considering that he wanted them to meet Sheridan at some point, it would be a good idea to get the kids used to the idea.  Stephie would probably be the easiest sell of the four – or the hardest.

A flick of his wrist sent the note skidding gently across the countertop until it made contact with the wall, and he crossed his arms in a pose that matched his daughter’s. 

“Her name is Sheridan.”

“Pretty.”  A well-groomed eyebrow arched daringly at him.  “Is she your girlfriend or just a girl friend?”

Once again, he mocked her pose.  “Girlfriend.  That okay with you?”

She lifted an ambiguous shoulder.  “I’ll have to see whether she’s good enough for my Daddy before I know if it is or not.  Where’d you meet her?”

“Jamaica.”  His heart melted just a little at the protectiveness.  This was why he muddled through the crap parts of being a parent.  It brought good kids out the other side, and he had the best.  Not that he was prejudiced or anything.  “She was staying in the suite next door.”

“You went to Jamaica in August.  You’ve been dating her that long without us knowing?”

A wry chuckle escaped.  “No, Sherlock Holmes, I haven’t.  I didn’t realize she lived in New York until a couple weeks ago.  We ran into each other at an event.  It took me almost a week to get her to go out with me.”

“Oooh… I like her already.”

Waggling a playfully threatening finger, he reprimanded her as she strolled toward him with a grin. “Sass?  All that money to send you to college and they teach you sass?”

“I already knew sass.”  Her slender arms encircled his neck and she stretched to kiss his cheek.  “I learned it from you, Old Man.”

They teased back and forth a bit before Stephanie went serious.  “When do we get to meet her?”

“I don’t know.  We haven’t talked about it, but she did send something for all of you.”  Lifting the Styrofoam lid, he invited her to peek in.  “The tiramisu is mine, but I also see blood orange sherbet, a couple different gelatos and some cannoli in here.”

“Bribery.  She’s smart.”

“Brat.”  Jon tapped her on the backside.  “She happens to be very smart, and that’s got nothing to do with bribery.  Go get your brothers and you guys can dig into this stuff.  I need to call your mom about Romey’s doctor visit, so I’ll get mine in a bit.”

Besides…  I want to wait to eat that “sex in food form” until I can talk to my girl and thank her.