13 #Anticipation

June 26, 2017

Monday

“I’m getting a kick out of this assistant gig,” Tori enthused through the Bluetooth speaker on Teddi’s desk. 

To make amends for stealing her cousin’s photo op with Jon – and for not providing a blow-by-blow account of her meeting with him – Teddi had offered Tori a consolation prize.  She was playing one of what Jon believed to be many assistants facilitating his Instagram immersion.  In truth, it was a case of multiple personalities. 

There was no magical assistant pool to do her bidding.  Teddi didn’t have the resources to maintain that kind of staff.  The only “assistants” interacting with his account were Tori and herself.  

Normally, she performed the task solo, for client privacy and control over content.  Once in a while, Julia pitched in to lend some variety, because she was discreet and closed-mouthed,  Tori was neither of those things, but she was trustworthy enough to keep Jon’s secret, especially when being bribed with another photo opportunity. 

Teddi was hopeful that, when this was over, Jon wouldn’t mind paying that bribe.

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself, Vinnie Farrell,” she chuckled.  “Why did you choose that name, by the way?”

“You know my birth mother was named Farrell.  Even though we don't know my birth father's name, he was definitely Italian.  Does it get any more Italian than Vinnie?”

“Guido, perhaps.”

“So cliché,” Tori dismissed with a chuff.  “But I have to say your boy is posting some lame shit.  I hope he’s going to step up the game when he goes public.  Oh, and you may want to show him how to edit a post, unless he’s cool with typos and grammatical errors.”

“What grammatical errors?”

“He used a hashtag last night that said something about eating cookie instead of cookies.” 

Teddi very nearly choked on her tea. 

She hadn’t mentioned the ongoing cookie references to anyone.  Partially due to client confidentiality, but mostly because she was hoarding the information for herself.  If her overactive hormones weren’t just making mountains out of molehills, it was a delicious secret to share with Jon.

The more she’d thought about it last night, the more she was inclined to believe he was…. “Toying” with her wasn’t the appropriate word.  Keeping her entertained might be a more apt description.  Giving her a bit of a thrill here and there, since the thrill she really wanted was unattainable. 

Teddi had no qualms about taking her cheap thrills where she could get them.  She might manufacture a couple of her own given half the chance.  What would it hurt as long as her job responsibilities were fulfilled? 

It left her looking forward to this evening’s call with him.

In the meantime, she felt obliged to defend her newest pupil.  “I’m sure it was a simple typo.”

“He should still fix it.”

“You don’t believe the world would forgive him a fat finger moment?”

“Well, yeah.  The female half of the world would forgive him for a lot of things, but if he’s really going to spend time on IG, why invite the trolls to hop on board?  They’ll find enough to harass him about as it is.”

“Valid point,” Teddi conceded neutrally, while clinging to the delusion that his typo was intentional.  “I’ll mention it the next time I speak with him.”

“Can you also ask him what in the world a vanilla kipper is?  Because he didn’t respond to my comment.”

It wasn’t Teddi’s place to share that any more than it was to share his true reason for joining social media.  Thus far, she’d let her cousin believe he was picking it up just as a casual hobby. 

“Perhaps if you asked a more comprehensive question than ‘WTF?’, he might have.”

“Hey.  What do you expect a guy like Vinnie to say?  ‘Excuse me, chap, but could you expound more eloquently on the joint you were smoking while you typed that hashtag?’”

Teddi’s head fell back with a laugh.  “I love you, even though you're more certifiably crazy than I am."

“Of course you do,” the other woman returned with confidence.  “I’m the most normal relative you have.”

“Don’t sound so proud, darling.  A drop of normal looks like an ocean in my gene pool.”

In fact, Magdalene had called only yesterday with a dose of eccentricity.  She’d heard about Teddi’s request for the cookie recipe from Kizzy and called to share her own take on vanillekipferls, which should apparently be served with mulled wine. 

Perhaps it was an age-old tradition from Austria, but Teddi found it to be highly peculiar and often thought that working in a winery had warped Maggie’s tastes.  Wine didn’t go with everything, despite all the unusual pairings she tried to foist upon them all. 

Not that she expressed that opinion to Maggie.  It was easier to simply say “good idea” rather than argue the point, and quite frankly, Teddi was just grateful for no mention of Jon Bon Jovi or Stef’s visit to the house.  Whatever he told the gypsy cousins last week must’ve satisfied them, because none of them beat down the door to demand more information.  Just the non-gypsy Tori, who was a Bon Jovi fan in her own right – and now enjoyed her new role as an Instagram “secret shopper”.

“What I want to know is if I get to do this on his real account, too?”

Familiarity rather than stress had Teddi fingering her aromatherapy pendant while responding, “I wish you wouldn’t, but it’s a free world. It’s certainly your prerogative to be his Irish-Italian troll.”

“Le sigh.”  Her disappointment was too dramatic to be genuine.  “Guess I’ll keep Vinnie in reserve, then.  Unless he starts posting pictures of that ugly hat.  Then my trolldom constitutes a public service.”

“Naturally,” Teddi agreed with a soft breath of laughter.  “You wouldn’t want him to think people liked his choice in headwear.”

“Exactly.”

“Just don’t delude yourself into believing he cares what you think about his fashion choices.”

“That’s very shortsighted on his part, but you know what?  I bet he’d care what his social media instructor thought.  You could steer him in the right direction.”

“You forget that ‘right’ is a subjective term.  Your version isn’t necessarily everyone’s, and I happen to like the hat.” 

What she really liked was that Jon Bon Jovi wasn’t a weak-willed man who allowed himself to be manipulated out of insecurity.  Despite the world’s opinion, he did as he pleased and shamelessly wore the same hat and outfit day after day.  It was part of his character, and Teddi had no interest seeing it change. 

She actually longed for enough gumption to do the same, but at fifty years of age, it didn’t look promising.  The number of times she’d shown any gumption in her life could be accounted for on half of one hand. 

But no one would ever guess.  Appearances are equivalent to reality in the eyes of the world.

Pathetic yet true. 

“You’re sick!”

Tori’s horrified accusation would’ve been laughable had the clock not caught Teddi's eye.  It was getting late.  There was only a couple of hours before Jon's call, and she still needed to eat dinner and freshen up for Pierce, who would arrive shortly after the call.

“Since the sick need rest to recuperate, I’ll go and do just that.  Try not to enjoy the troll life too much.”

“I’m a suburban mom, Teddi.  Trolling is the most excitement I’ve had in a year.  Don’t ruin it for me.” 

# # # # #

Jon stripped out of the wine-stained t-shirt that was a victim of his early dinner with the kids.  They hadn’t all been able to get together for Father’s Day last weekend, and their busy social schedules hadn't coincided until this evening.  He got squeezed in between Stephanie’s job and his middle son’s movie date, but he could hardly complain, having been guilty of squeezing them in more times than anybody could count.  

Jon understood busy.  

So, even if it was a week late, he appreciated the effort his kids took to celebrate him.  

Tossing the soiled shirt in the hamper, he tugged another one off a hanger while simultaneously checking his watch.  Five minutes before seven.  He still had time to yank on his shirt and pour a wind-down glass of rosè before dialing Cookie. 

God knew he needed a wind down.  The burgundy stain on his gray t-shirt came as a result of his daughter’s boldly declared, “You need a girlfriend, Dad.”

Considering that she’d voiced that opinion to him only a couple weeks ago – and that he’d firmly shot it down – Jon was stunned to the point of choking on his cabernet.  The one fucking time he went with a red and he ended up wearing it.  At least there wasn't paparazzi to document the occasion, but it hadn’t deterred him from growling at his unrepentant child. 

Worse was the fact that she dragged her brothers on board.  They didn’t give a shit about his love life – or so he’d thought.  Jesse had asked if there was someone who Jon had been keeping under wraps, Jake proclaimed that he wasn’t getting any younger, and even Romeo had thrown in a statistic about lonely people dying at a younger age. 

A little prodding revealed that the kids wanted him to have the same happiness their mother had found in her new relationship.  That was the intro to “The Benjamin Show”, in which Jon was treated to all the magnificent deeds the guy committed to inspire Dorothea’s fountain of bliss.  They stopped just short of saying he did all the things Jon never had, but his conscience felt the implication.

Cramming his arms through the sleeves of the stain-resistant black cotton, Jon tugged the hem down to his waist while kicking his shoes into a corner.  He didn’t look at his hair, choosing to push careless fingers through it on his stride to the kitchen.  If that didn’t put it to rights, it was still close enough.

He’d been subjected to enough hairdressers in his life to not be picky about how his hair looked.  They were paid to worry about it; he wasn’t.  His philosophy was that, as long as it was washed and brushed at some point during a sweat-free day, he was good to go.  Anything outside those guidelines and he pulled out the faithful black hat.

Besides, even if his gray mop of hair looked like shit right now, Teddi was too polite to call him out on it.  He popped the glass wine stopper with a smile.

Jon was looking forward to their video meeting, despite the inevitable Instabullshit.  Anticipation bit at him as the wine flowed into his glass, and he wondered what she’d have to say about the flowers he’d finally gotten around to sending today.  The random summer arrangement for her assistant was easy enough, but it turned out that beige flowers weren’t really a thing, according to his assistant.  She said ivory was close enough and Jon had no choice but to trust her. 

Too bad he didn’t get a look at Teddi’s face when she read the card, though.  Those cheeks had probably pinked up real good. 

Maybe good enough to get some afterburn when I ask her about it. 

He grinned to himself as he plopped on the couch, sipping wine with one hand and dialing with the other.