2 #BeigeElephant

Jon Bon Jovi.

Teddi’s overactive heart stuttered as though he was standing right there rather than wandering the streets of New York.  Unlike her usual anxiety, however, this cardiac anomaly had nothing to do with fear.  It was sheer excitement trilling her pulse like the guitar intro to “Bed of Roses”.  

As her steady celebrity crush since 1984, the handsome musician always had that effect on her heart rate.

Back in the days when she was wearing penny loafers, flipping up her collars and using more hairspray than the EPA deemed acceptable, Jon Bon Jovi was a young man on the rise.  Not only did he have vocal ability and musicianship to his credit, he also had devastating good looks.  With a lion’s mane of hair and dark-pelted chest, he’d owned the starring role in millions of young women’s fantasies while tattooing his band’s name into the annals of rock and roll history. 

Who wouldn’t be captivated by him?

Had it been permissible in Grandmother Peabody’s house, Teddi’s bedroom walls would’ve been covered with images of the sexy rocker with the unconquerable attitude.  Her teenage-self found it tragic that anything from a magazine or poster rack at National Record Mart was considered “inappropriate for someone of her bloodline”, but she’d been in no position to argue the rules.

That didn’t stop her from sneaking a copy of Teen Beat or Tiger Beat into her Trapper Keeper, though. Those peeks of his baby blues and dazzling smile had quietly stoked her infatuation, and driven Teddi to spend the next thirty-plus years covertly following the New Jersey native’s soar to stardom.

That pretty boy with determination and drive had matured into a successful adult in all facets of life.  It was hard to believe, but he also held more sex appeal at fifty-five than he had at twenty-two.  At least that was Teddi’s opinion, and God knew she’d studied him enough to support it.

Her archive of interviews and concert footage would rival that of any fan, and there was a special folder set aside just to inspire fantasies – when she was in the mood.  That particular collection had gotten quite the workout since his divorce a year ago, and her Pavlovian hormones were salivating at the knowledge he was nearby.    

Magdalene leaned across the table to demand from Kizzy the that details Teddi wanted.  “You saw him, or you talked to him?”

“Saw.  He was on the other side of the street, but there’s no mistaking that man, even with the God- awful black hat.”

That hat was an unfortunate staple of his wardrobe.  Some might think it was used to hide the head of silvery hair he’d begun refusing to color a couple of years ago, but he’d been wearing it long before that.   Besides, he’d already weathered the news coverage and fan outrage over going gray.  

Jon’s hair received more airtime than a lot of people’s entire lives did, and Teddi found it humorous, especially since it seemed to annoy him so much.  When someone dared mention his hair on camera, the piqued twist of his mouth was more revealing than whatever bland commentary he used to dismiss the interviewer.

Hat or not, Teddi would still have loved to seen him.

She thumbed her pendant a bit more persistently while daring to ask, “Did you get a picture?”

Catarina’s grin was exuberant.  “Check your text messages, darling cousin.”

Eyes going wide and heart rate kicking up another ten beats per minute, she flipped open the purse closure and drew out her phone to find two text messages from Kizzy.  A hasty swipe of the screen revealed the requested images, and Teddi’s eyes devoured them. 

There were two nearly identical photos of him in the sunglasses and hat Kizzy mentioned.  In addition to those accessories, he wore the typical Jon Bon Jovi uniform of jeans and a t-shirt.  The only notable difference between this and dozens of other pictures just like it was that the shirt wasn’t a solid color.  He was most often spotted out in black or gray, but today’s shirt was navy with “We Are All Patriots” printed above the New England football team logo.

“You’re welcome.” 

Teddi’s head snapped up to find all four cousins watching her with varying degrees of amusement.  Kicking her understated smile up at the corners, she darkened the phone’s screen and tucked it back into her purse. 

“Of course.  Where are my manners?  Thank you, Kizzy.”

“I wish you’d been there with us!” Cat bemoaned dramatically, accepting her drink from the waitress.  “We would’ve cornered him so you two could meet.”

“Are you kidding me?”  Stefan’s laughter coincided with the arrival of Teddi’s mojito, and she immediately popped the skinny black straw in her mouth to avoid speaking.  “She’d have a complete melt down on the sidewalk.”

“You think?” Cat regarded her thoughtfully.  “She talks to people for work.  Same thing, right?”

Maggie snorted and stabbed at the lime in her drink.  “Except that it’s on a public street with the rock star she’s been crushing on most of her life.  Stef’s right.  Melt down.”

Teddi should tell them how wrong they were, but it simply wasn’t worth wasting the oxygen needed to dispute their assumption.   She knew that she could remain communicative through a bout of anxiety.  That fact was documented by the stack of very expensive diplomas in her desk drawer, and they’d served her well throughout multiple celebrity meetings over the years.

Her cousins were simply unaware of those meetings – and the lack of accompanying “melt downs”.   The need for discretion would keep it that way, but there was still no reason to treat her like a houseplant.

“Please don’t discuss me as though I’m not here.  Perhaps I wouldn’t handle the situation the same as one of you, but I’m confident that I would get through it without embarrassing myself.”

Teddi assertively met the eyes of each Kizzy, Cat and Maggie, but she got hung up at the humor lighting Stefan’s golden irises.  They flicked to a point beyond her left ear as he dipped a scruffy chin to challenge, “Now’s your chance to prove it.”

Before she could turn to see the target of his gesture, Maggie leaned into the table hissing, “Holy shit, Teddi! They just seated Jon Bon Jovi right behind you!”

# # # # #

As soon as he sat down, Jon registered the buzz of recognition.  There was no doubt that the party of five at the next table had spotted him and made a positive ID.   Most days, the murmurs of “Is that…?” and “Oh my God!” were nothing more than customary background noise that he paid little attention to, but the occupants of this particular table caught his eye.

The women in the red t-shirt and gauzy yellow blouse with their backs to him had been snapping his picture on the sidewalk out front.  It was no big deal, but the bright colors had stuck with him enough to recognize them five minutes later. 

And speaking of bright colors… 

Across from the pair was another woman.  She wore a riotous dress that spanned all the colors of the rainbow and was accessorized by big, flashy earrings that would command anyone’s attention.  Next to her was an average-looking guy who tried to be inconspicuous about glancing in Jon’s direction. 

That group itself was eclectic – and noisy – enough to warrant notice, but then there was the woman to whose back he sat closest.  She stood out in muted contrast to her dining companions. Sitting with military rigid posture and shoulders squared, she was a study in boring beige from head to toe.  

Classy, but boring.  

The only flashy thing about her was a gold clip at the nape of her neck.  It secured a smooth fall of hair that was probably blonde but blended so well with her sweater that Jon thought of it as beige, too. He couldn’t see any jewelry beyond a small pair of earrings, but she likely wore a pearl necklace simply because it would complete the Neiman-Marcus look. 

Her nondescript appearance was conspicuous among the company she kept, and he briefly wondered what connected the diverse group of diners.

“I swear to God, if you pass up this chance, I will burn every one of your beige sweaters and laugh while I do it.”

Jon swallowed a snort at Rainbow Dress’s heated threat while Yellow Blouse growled, “You’ve had a crush on him since ‘Runaway’ came out.  How can you act like he’s not sitting four feet away from you?”

“Very easily if you’d stop harping on it, Kizzy.”  As bland as her wardrobe, Beige’s carefully modulated voice almost disappeared under the hum of restaurant noise, but Jon heard it plainly and smirked.  He could only assume that playing fan girl was beneath her.

“They’re talking about you,” his producer and friend, John Shanks murmured while perusing the drink offerings.

“No shit.”

“You gonna put her out of her misery?”

“Some reason I should?”

“Not really, other than she looks like she wants to throw up.”

That meant Shanks could see her face from where he was sitting, and a bizarre curiosity goaded Jon into quietly asking, “She wearing pearls?”

His friend’s brow furrowed with confusion.  “Weird ass question, but I don’t know.  Can’t see.”

Withdrawing his sunglasses from the neckline of his t-shirt, Jon set them on the table edge closest to the window before picking up his menu to scan the dinner offerings. 

This meal was supposed to be a strategy planning session, during which they would devise a timeline for releasing the songs he’d held back from the last album.  They were also going to toss around some ideas as to how large a tour should accompany that release.  

Jon wasn’t ready for a whole new album yet, but he also wasn’t ready to sit on his ass and do nothing.  This scheme was a means to ride the fence between the two. 

He hadn’t expected dinner to turn into a fan encounter, but then again, he seldom did.  These kinds of things just happened to him and, seeing as the group at the next table didn’t seem to realize how loud they were, this was shaping up to be one of those that he’d still remember after the check was paid.

“Teddi,” the lone guy at the table was coaxing.  “All ya gotta do is turn around and say hello.  At least look at him.  Front row tickets wouldn’t put you this close, for God’s sake.”

Rainbow Dress snorted.  “Of course, you’d have no idea since you’ve never gone to a concert.”

A fan since the early days and she’s never been to a show?  

Skimming over the seafood entrees, he idly wondered if that meant a Bon Jovi show or any band.  She probably didn’t buy tickets for anything other than the symphony or a revival of My Fair Lady. 

“She’s watched every damn interview he’s ever done, though.  Probably feels like she’s been in bed with him.”

“Cat!  That’s completely inappropriate!” 

Jon was pleased by Beige’s – Teddi’s – heated admonishment.  It was nice to see that there was some emotion lurking under that blah exterior, even if the one called Cat wasn’t affected by it. 

“What?  You have, and I’d be amazed if you haven’t had a dirty thought or two about him while you’re watching.  He’s a fucking stud.”

Shanks choked on the drink of water he’d just swallowed, and it took everything Jon had not to laugh out loud at the brash woman’s observation. 

“Catarina,” Beige spat in an undertone, and unless Jon was mistaken, her shoulders shook when leaning past Yellow Blouse to deliver the ensuing threat.  “Talk about your kids, your husband or your job, but not one more word about him or I’m leaving.”

Yellow Blouse lifted a soothing hand to Beige’s shoulder. “Calm down, honey.  You know Cat doesn’t mean anything by it.  We just want something nice for you.  Wouldn’t it make your fiftieth birthday a lot more memorable if you got to meet your celebrity crush?”

“Jesus Christ,” Shanks muttered when setting his menu aside.  “If you’re not going to put her out of misery, could you at least consider me?”

Biting back a smile, Jon had to admit that ignoring their fellow diners was getting harder by the minute, and this was supposed to be a business meeting.  Addressing the beige elephant in the room would be more productive than pretending to be deaf and dumb, and besides... he would at least be able to see whether the elephant was wearing pearls. 

Laying down his menu, Jon leaned toward the other table with an obligatory smile. 

“How about you turn around and say hello, sweetheart?  That way both of us can enjoy our meal in peace.”