90 - Standoff

Sheridan let herself into the hotel room and immediately started tugging at the scarf that had begun to feel like a noose around her neck.

Jon would’ve probably used it to hang me with, given half a chance, she thought bitterly.

Her scarf and jacket were draped over the back of the chair she dropped into like a dead weight. Drawing her feet up onto the cushion, she curled into the curve of the chair and rested her cheek on it's arm, blinking away the dampness that gathered in the corners of her eyes. 

Guilt, humiliation, hormones, fatigue and inadequacy were all tackling her at once and forming an NFL-worthy pile up on her self-esteem.   The celebrity thing was hard enough when Jon was on her side.  When he was turning on her like a starving jackal, she had to question whether this was worth the effort.  Had she been so blinded by lust and his overwhelming presence that she’d deluded herself into believing they had something that would last?

You can’t even take care of your fledgling marriage and you think you can take care of a baby?

Suddenly, she had a yearning to be babied a little bit.  The fact that it was one in the morning – two on the east coast – was completely irrelevant.  Her husband had been mean to her and she wanted her mommy.  She might also want to mention her newfound infamy before her mother discovered it in the checkout line of the grocery store.

Leaning forward, she withdrew the phone from her back pocket and quickly located the familiar number.  It rang twice before her father’s groggy greeting had her smiling wistfully.

“Hi Daddy.  It’s Sheridan.  I’m sorry to wake you, but could I talk to Mom?”

“Sheridan?  Has there been an accident?  Are you hurt?”  Ken Norris always asked the same two questions when there was a call ringing into his home past ten-thirty at night.  He always said that he wanted the worst-case scenario out of the way as soon as possible.

“No to both.”

“Mm,” was his relieved, if gravelly, grumble.  “Here’s your mother.”

“Honey, it’s two in the morning.  What’s the matter?”

“I...”  Her mother’s sleepy voice hit a raw nerve and had Sheridan sniffling before she could stop herself.  “Can I talk to you, Mom?”

“Of course you can.  Let me just go in the other room so your father can sleep.”  There was the rustling of her mother’s robe and the scuffling of her slippers down the stairs.  When she heard the scrape of the kitchen chair, she was given approval to continue.  “Alright, what is it?”

“This...  this whole being married to a celebrity thing is so hard.  The media is just waiting for you to screw up or do something of interest so they can make a buck.  You can’t live life like a normal human being.”

“Well, I can  understand where that might be difficult,” Pam sympathized with her youngest child.  “Did something specific happen tonight?”

She was so knotted up inside that it all came spilling out.  The Cosmo articles, Jon’s original concerns, her inability to stop them from publishing, the horrible things he’d said to her tonight.

“Mom, I feel horrible, but it wasn’t like I defiantly published the articles after he asked me to pull them.  I couldn’t pull them!  It was too late and I did the best I could with the pen name.  I can’t help it that I didn’t expect the world to put my life under a microscope.  Why is that a reason to be so vile and vicious to me – in front of his friend!”

“Have you asked him that?”

The quiet question wasn’t what she expected.  Staunch support and indignation would’ve been more appreciated. 

“No.”

“Then that’s what you need to do.”  Her mother sighed softly.  “Sheridan, I love you, but you can’t come running to me when your marriage isn’t working out the way you want it to.  The few times it happened in your first marriage, I allowed it because...  well, because I didn’t think he was the right man for you.”

“You didn’t?  I thought you liked Ian.”  That was news to Sheridan. 

“I did like him, but I also knew your ideas and his weren’t going to mesh in the long run.  You were stubborn and old enough to make your own choices, though, so I kept my opinions to myself.”

“Then does that mean you think Jon is the right man for me?” 

“I don’t know the man well enough to say one way or another, but you’re having a child together.  That means it’s the best interest of that child for its parents to remain happily married.”

That would be the ideal thing, she supposed.  How did she accomplish it in this volatile setting?  Media, disgruntled ex-wife, angry step-children and a pissed off husband weren’t exactly a rip-roaring start.  “Do you have any suggestions on how I might do that, given my current situation?”

“Yes.  Don’t go bellyaching about your marital strife to someone outside your marriage, because that won’t help a thing.  Go find your husband and work out your problems between the two of you.  If you have to lock yourselves in the bedroom until that happens, then that’s what you do.”

❧❧❧

“You were a dick,” Richie observed casually, one eye on ESPN and one on Jon, who was busy scowling and guzzling wine like it was going out of style.  His friend was diligently seeking a healthy dose of liquid mellow before he retired to the room and his wife.

“I hadda right to be a dick,” Jon declared obstinately, signaling the bartender for another refill and then instructing him to leave the bottle.  “She’s gonna have to learn to listen to me when it comes to this shit.”

“Maybe so, but I’m tellin’ ya, you were still outta line in the car.”

One haughty eyebrow lifted with disparagement.  “Since when did you become Team Sheridan?  You would’ve gladly fed her to the wolves a couple weeks ago.”

“I didn’t say I was Team Sheridan, but damn, man.  How bad are these articles?  Is there bestiality or S&M? ”

Jon grunted, pouring himself another serving.  “No, you dumbass.  I said she was writing for Cosmo, not Kinky Fuckers Are Us.”

“Then what’s the big deal?  A little erotic fiction isn’t the end of the world.”

“Not all of it’s fiction, and I have a reputation to maintain.”

Richie laughed out loud, drawing the attention of the bartender and the other couple of patrons still lingering at this late hour.  “You’re a rock star, you stupid shit, even though you paid enough to keep the proof on the down-low.  This isn’t exactly detrimental to the rock star lifestyle.”

“I’m CEO of a major corporation, who is running a brand.  And a philanthropist.  And a father.  It so fucking IS detrimental to the lifestyle.”

“And those very public pictures of the band in bed with half-naked broads weren’t?  Christ man, you were getting jacked in one and blown in another, yet your sterling reputation, business and kids all survived – and continued to thrive.”

“What the fuck ever.”  Jon waved his hand, dismissing that topic, as he did every time it was brought up.  Interview after interview, he said he wasn’t a saint, but he did every damn thing he could to maintain the image, anyway.  “The point is that I told her not to do this and she did it anyway.”

“But did she really deserve the whole load of attitude you laid on her?  You were seriously harsh, man.  Me and the guys –  and the crew – that’s one thing.  We’re used to your nasty-ass disposition and name-calling when things don’t go the way you want, but she’s your pregnant, newlywed wife.  After the way you talked to her, I wouldn’t blame her if she took your plane and left your ass to walk back to New York.”

For the first time since hanging up with Jeri, Jon’s features lost some of their harshness.  “You never say shit about my temper tantrums.”

“Nope.  Not usually.”  Richie used the cocktail stirrer to stab at the lime in his club soda and watched with interest as the alcohol finally blurred the edge of his front man’s temper.  Nice to see he was starting to get the idea that he might not have been ‘right’ for once in his life. 

The oft-touted handsome features of his friend twisted into a grimace.  “That bad, huh?”

“That bad.”

“I’m still right,” Jon grunted softly as the base of his wineglass settled on the bar. 

Richie shrugged.  It wasn’t his place to judge right or wrong on the principle of his buddy’s hissy fit. It didn’t much matter to him. “Then be right.  But don’t be a heartless dick while you’re doing it.”

❧❧❧

When he finally entered his hotel room, Jon was feeling far less confrontational – and pain for that matter – than he was when first arriving at the hotel.  Not to say that he was drunk, because it took more than half a bottle to cripple a professional wino.  He was just ... calmer. 

And so was Sheridan.  As the door closed behind him, he spotted his wife curled into one of the sitting area’s chairs, sound asleep.  Her cheek rested upon one forearm, and her hair cascaded down over the side of the chair.  Pink lips were parted by a scant distance as she breathed deeply. 

Damn, she’s pretty.

He was still unhappy with her, but it didn’t stop him from appreciating the beautiful woman that wore his ring.  If she was twenty years younger than him instead of almost ten, she would be the classic trophy wife. 

She’s too smart to be a trophy wife.

That’s why he was so mad about this whole Cosmo catastrophe, but, even mad, he couldn’t let her sleep knotted up in an armchair all night. 

“Sheridan.”  Jon brought a hand to her shoulder and shook lightly. 

Her eyes flew immediately flew open, dazed and trying to focus.  Five seconds was all it took to assess her surroundings and him before she was slowly righting herself, feet dropping to the floor.   Pushing the hair from her face she asked in a sleep-thick voice, “What?  Are you ready to continue ranting at me like an asshole?”

Bite your tongue.  Let it go.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable sleeping in bed.”

“No,” she refused even as she glided toward to bedroom area of the suite, fumbling around for her Aerosmith nightshirt.  “We have unfinished business and I won’t be comfortable until it’s resolved.”

It took her less than a minute to shed her sweatshirt, bra and yoga pants, slipping her favorite nightie over her head.  He considered himself worthy of the Superman tattoo when he remained unaffected by the enticing sway of her growing breasts and the blue scrap of satiny lace that covered her from hip to hip. 

“We don’t need to do this tonight.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, her chin set stubbornly and the shadowy smudges beneath her eyes were the only evidence of sleepiness.  She pursed her lips and green eyes stabbed at him like emerald daggers where he stood in the bedroom doorway. 

“You had the chance to speak your mind, and I’ll do the same now that we have complete privacy.  I will never, ever discuss our personal problems in front of another person and, from this day forward, I expect you to extend me the same courtesy.”

“Excuse me?”

The one who had gotten them into this mess thought she had the right to dictate his behavior?

“The way you spoke to me in front of Richie was completely humiliating.  I don’t care what the situation, I don’t deserve that and I won’t be the whipping post for your temper.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!”  he interrupted, holding his hands up in front of him and joining her at the foot of the bed.  He had been perfectly willing to let it go for the night, but damned if she was going to stand here and make him into the bad guy.  “First of all it was just Richie and-“

“JUST  Richie?”  She barked out a humorless laugh.  “Richie is the man who pretty much thought of me as the human equivalent to a cockroach until very recently.  Does he really need more reasons to think I’m a lowlife bitch?  You talked to me like a dog in front of him, Jon!”

Thank God for those unnumbered glasses of wine or he would be through the roof right now.  As it was, he still showed his fair share of asshole when snapping out, “Richie was the man defending your ass downstairs in the bar, but that isn’t the motherfuckin’ point!  Don’t be turning all this shit around on me, making me the bad guy when you’re the one who’s at fault here.  You’re the one who didn’t listen to me when I told you those goddamn articles were a bad idea.”

She threw her hands up in the air with a strangled noise of frustration.  “It’s not that I didn’t listen; there was nothing I could do!  The contracts had already been signed by the time we had that conversation.  I told you that!”

He had forgotten that little tidbit somewhere along the line.  Contractual obligation had given Cosmo ownership of those articles to do with as they pleased.  She’d only just been able to have the pen name added, he now recalled.  That helped.  A little.  “You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“Oh for God’s sake...”  Sheridan sighed heavily, and then closed the gap between them with two steps of her red toenailed feet.  She crossed her arms at her waist without touching him and, peered up into his face.  Her eyes were a murky jumble of frustration, fatigue, hurt and... guilt. 

“Do you get that I’ve never been in a relationship with a celebrity?” she demanded in quiet voice.  “I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I am doing the best I can.  I’m sorry I’ve embarrassed you and your family.  I’m sorry that I didn’t have all this wonderful foresight and experience that you have.  All I was trying to do was get my foot in the door of a writing career and I used a few of our wonderful memories in the process.  I’m sorry.” 

In that instant, it was over.  His anger was no more.  He had no desire to loudly make his point.  He didn’t even feel the need to point, yet again, that he was right.  Being right didn’t change anything and it sure wouldn’t warm his bed tonight.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, uncrossing her arms and looping them around his waist.  When his settled similarly in the curve of her lower back, he said, “I’m sorry, too.  I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that in the car.  We’ll deal with this shit like we’ve dealt with everything else so far.  It’ll be okay.”

She squeezed her arms tight and put her head into the crook of his shoulder.  “Thank you.”

“But could you do me one favor?  Next time, ask my opinion – and take it into consideration – before you do something like that?  This isn’t you and me anymore.  It’s us.”

Lifting her head, she sought his eyes for a long moment before asking, “Does that mean you’re going to ask my opinion on your public stuff, too?”

No, that wasn’t what it had meant, but in thinking about it...  It might not be such a bad idea.  She was supposed to be his partner and he’d found that, historically, women saw a lot of different things that he didn’t.  His mother and Dorothea had been invaluable when he was first starting out.  Who knew what kind of insight Sheridan might have?  It certainly couldn’t hurt to hear what she had to say.

“I can’t promise to do it every time, but okay.  I’ll include you when I can.”

She nodded and snuggled back into his shoulder.  “Still love me?”

“Yeah.  What about you?” 

He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head, but the kiss was overtaken by a smile when she shrugged into him and murmured, “Mm-hmm.  Let’s go to bed, Johnny.”