39 #Diving

Teddi heard the laughter and voices flowing into the entry hall as she closed the desk drawer.  All she had to do was make it through the fifteen minutes until the medication took effect.  This wasn’t impossible, especially if she hurried things along with alcohol.  She could do this. 

 

Rising to her feet, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath just as Tori poked her head in. 

 

“Hey, kiddo.  You okay?”

 

With a practiced smile she assured, “Of course.  And I’ll be even better once I have a drink.”

 

“Amen to that, but I still feel like I need to apologize.  Maggie called and asked about Peabody’s, so I invited her along.  I had no idea it would become a cousin reunion, or I would’ve warned you.”

 

At least that explained how five of her six cousins were in the house at the same time.  She couldn’t blame Tori – or Maggie, really.  They just didn’t get it.  They never had, and at this late date in Teddi’s life, they probably never would.  Not many people could grasp what it was like to live inside her body, and disappointment after disappointment had taught her to stop expecting them to. 

 

“A little advance notice would’ve been helpful,” she conceded, coming from behind the desk to pat Tori’s arm.  “But what’s done is done.”

 

“Thanks for understanding.  Hopefully, you’ll be just as understanding when I butt into your personal life.”

 

Gliding to a halt just inside the door, she turned back to find her cousin’s chin tipped at a stubborn angle.  “Haven’t I shared enough of my personal life with you this week?”

 

“More than usual, anyway, Madame Gigolo,” Tori conceded with a smirk twitching at the corners of her mouth.  “But this time I’m doing the one sharing, and I say if you don’t make a move on that man, you’re a fool.”

 

Teddi’s stomach clenched so tightly that the two sedatives inside it wouldn’t need to dissolve; they’d be pulverized.   God save her from meddling cousins who knew not what they spoke of, but she kept both tone and expression bland when replying, “My escort?  Our relationship was strictly business.”

 

“Don’t play dumb with me, Theodosia.  I’m talking about the man acting like your personal security guard out there.”  She folded both arms over her chest and pinned Teddi with a look of determination.  “Jon Bon Jovi’s not only got a magnificent ass, he’s good people.  Put yourself out there and invite him to be more than a fantasy.”

 

I have, and it’s better than I ever imagined.

 

“Alright, Victoria,” she placated, knowing that agreeability was the surest way to put an end to the subject.  “Right after I have two or three cocktails.  In fact, it’s the perfect night to serve a signature drink.  While I prepare them, you’re charged with ensuring Maggie and Cat don’t make spectacles of themselves – or me.”

 

“Ha!  You know that’s impossible once they set their minds on something.”

 

“Yet you will make it possible.”  She hitched a sharp eyebrow.  “And perhaps next time you’ll think to let me know I’m hosting a family reunion, hmm?”

 

“Okay, fine.  I deserve that, but I’m not responsible for David Bryan.  How the hell did that happen, anyway?”

 

Teddi was still wondering the same thing, but relayed the explanation she’d been given.  “He followed Jon over here.”

 

“But why?”

 

“I honestly have no idea.  We met online through Jon’s Instagram account and have been chatting.  He’s been oddly insistent upon meeting me, saying Jon’s compared me to June Cleaver.”

 

“June Cleaver?”  Her cousin slid an assessing gaze over Teddi’s beige sweater set, khaki slacks and taupe heels.  “I can see that, I guess, but now I’m having second thoughts about you making a move on JBJ.  Being his MILF might be a little creepy.”

 

Oh, God.  Teddi had never made that connection and would be quite happy if Tori hadn’t, either. 

 

“For heaven’s sake,” she sighed.  “Now I really do need a drink.  Come on.”

 

“One sec.”  Tori snagged her by the elbow, and in one swift movement, released the hair carefully clasped at Teddi’s nape.  The ivory barrette was tossed to the desk, and efficient fingers fluffed her hair until it settled into a style that met with Tori’s satisfaction.  “Less June Cleaver, more Jennifer Nettles.  We know he bonked her.”

 

“That’s just a rumor,” she protested, pulling away with annoyance.  “Nobody ever proved that happened.”

 

“And nobody proved it hasn’t,” was Tori’s rebuttal when nudging her toward the door.  “Now you can go.”

 

The good news was that the medication was beginning to take effect.  She could feel that the edges of her frazzled nerves weren’t quite so jagged.  By the time she entered the oversized kitchen with its equally oversized personalities, her smile didn’t feel brittle.  It might be possible to not hate every moment of this, she thought, just before a thunderous roar of laughter erupted and caused her to recoil inside.

 

 

 

 

Her “guests” were all engaged in an animated discussion of some sort at the kitchen table, and David appeared to be the ring master.  Jon was the only one not leaning forward with interest in whatever tale was being told.  He leaned the opposite way, slouching in one of the rattan dining chairs and watching her with eyes that held the same look as the other night – when he studied her like a puzzle. 

 

His silent scrutiny in the midst of this brouhaha was enough to make her heart skip a beat. Not due to anxiety, though.  It was awareness that fluttered in Teddi’s chest.  

Anticipation.

Attraction.  

 

You’d do well to remember that there are half a dozen other people here.  Tori’s already pushing.  If the others catching you gawking at the man, they will embarrass you.  Find your social graces and use them, for God’s sake.

 

“Since this is the closest thing to a party that will ever take place in my house, it calls for a signature cocktail,” she stated with a genteel serenity that Martha Stewart herself would envy.  “I’ll prepare them while Mr. Bon Jovi conducts the business portion of our evening.”

 

Before she could cross to the liquor cabinet, David was springing from his seat and saying, “And since his business is none of mine, I can properly introduce myself to you.” 

 

“Lem-aaa…”

 

He waved off Jon’s low warning, determined to complete his mission of joining Teddi.  He did so with a sweetly goofy smile and stopping just shy of entering her personal space.  “Hi.  I’m David.”

 

The man was silly, but well-intentioned.  She could tell he wanted to reach out his arms for a hug but, instead, remained still and waited to see how she wanted to proceed. 

 

In the light of such thoughtfulness, what could Teddi do but return his smile?  She even broached the space between them with an extended hand of greeting.  “Hello.  I’m Teddi.”

 

Accepting the hand, David gave up his restraint and used the grasp to tug until she was wrapped in two very strong arms.  It was a shock to find her cheek tucked against a solid chest, and Jon must not have liked the way her eyes flew wide with shock.  He was rising from his chair to…. Well, to do what was unclear, but whatever his heroics entailed, they were unnecessary this time. 

 

Teddi subtly lifted her fingers to stave him off.  Yes, her pulse skyrocketed at the invasion of her personal space, but thanks to the medication, it wasn’t unbearable.  She could tolerate it for a moment.

 

Breathe in through the nose.  Release it slowly.

 

“Definitely not June Cleaver, in case you wondered.”  Teddi lifted her face to studious eyes that were several shades darker than Jon’s.  “I’m thinking Grace Kelly.”

 

She laughed and awkwardly extracted herself from the embrace.  “I’m sure that’s intended to compliment, so I will thank you, even though I don’t believe either to be true.”

 

“Then who?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t believe that I compare to anyone famous, but if I had to choose…  Greta Garbo.”

 

“Why her?”

 

She met his thoughtfully narrowed gaze with a smile.  “Garbo was a recluse.”

 

His head nodded in acknowledgement as Jon reminded, “Lema, what did I tell you about slobbering all over the doctor?”

 

“I dunno.  I never listen to you,” he blithely tossed over one shoulder before quietly addressing Teddi.  “You mind if I hang around?  Mistress Moon is cool, and I’m nosy enough to be curious about Jon’s latest business acquisition.”

 

Did she mind?  Yes, but not any more than she minded having Cat and Maggie hanging around.  They were wonderful people, but their energy often put her on edge.  David’s energy was more mellow than she would’ve guessed.  Of all the people gathered in her kitchen, he wouldn’t be the first one she’d ask to leave.

 

“You may stay.”

 

Jon watched Teddi thumbing her necklace even as she invited Dave to help her make drinks.  She looked better than she had at the front door.  Whatever kind of pills she popped must be doing some good, because she only appeared to be uncomfortable instead of terrified. He still didn’t think she should feel that way in her own house, but it was a definite improvement.  Enough so that he didn’t try another eviction maneuver on his friend.  He merely directed his attention to those gathered around the table while Dave took glasses from a cabinet.

 

“I hate to be abrupt, but I need to leave soon.  How about we switch to business?”

 

“Yes, please!”  Maggie turned her attention to the head of the table with interest.  “I’m so excited to find out about this.”

 

Jon personally thought a psychic should already know about it, but maybe he was a cynical bastard.  He kept the cynicism in check with a mild, “Let’s hope Tori and Craig are equally excited.”

 

As he opened his mouth to explain the desire to buy out their shares so he and Teddi could exact revenge upon the Peabody children, Jon realized that might not be a wise idea.  He didn’t know how much the people around this table knew about Endicott and Deidre’s shoddy treatment of their half-sister.  Hell, Teddi herself barely acknowledged it, so why would she have passed tales of mistreatment along to the cousins?

 

But Maggie went with her to Boston.  And Tori mentioned emotional abuse not fifteen minutes ago.

 

Maybe so, but that left the rest of them potentially clueless, and it wasn’t his place to clue them in.

 

“I have some previous dealings with Peabody’s that left a bad taste in my mouth,” was his careful explanation.  “Dr. Montgomery is familiar with that situation and mentioned the recent shift in ownership, along with the possibility that those new owners might be interested in selling.”

 

“Ted?  Are you selling off your share?”

 

“No,” she told the male Gypsy – Stef – while pouring vodka into a pitcher.  “Not at present.  Mr. Bon Jovi and I plan to jointly exercise authority over Peabody’s and install a new CEO.”

 

Tori’s eyes grew to the size of silver dollars.  “Oh… migod.  You’re stealing Endicott’s throne out from under him?  That’s sooo much better than a petting zoo in the break room!”

 

“Yes!”  Maggie’s fist punched in the air over her head.  “Fucker, Junior is going down!  I hated the way he treated Teddi at that will reading.  He talked to her like a worthless piece of trash, and now Jon Bon Jovi is going to be her avenging angel.  Take that, Junior!”

 

A cube slipped from Teddi’s ice tongs, and she scolded, “Magdalene!  I do not need avenged and, if I did, I would do it myself.”

 

“Oh, please,” Tori snorted.  “You let them walk all over you and smile while they do it.”

 

“Look, I’m no angel, avenging or otherwise,” Jon interrupted before anybody else could gang up on Teddi.  “My interest is personal, but if it helps Dr. Montgomery, all the better.  Contracts should be arriving any minute, and if Tori and Craig find them acceptable, we’ll get this transfer of power underway.”

 

“So, let me get this straight.”  David distributed cloudy pink drinks garnished with cherries.  “Teddi Bear, Tori and Craig all own a slice of the company?  Who owns the rest?  Who is Endicott?”

 

In the midst of serving the remaining feminine drinks, Teddi cut her cousins a stern look and firmly stated, “Endicott is another cousin.  His father recently passed away and, due to underlying circumstances, company ownership was bequeathed to all of us.  I have a third, Endicott and his sister Deidre share a third, and Tori and Craig share a third.”

 

Her explanation didn’t explicitly tell Jon how many of these people knew the old man was Teddi’s father, but he assumed Dave was the only one in the dark on that subject.  Maybe the cousins thought Jon was, too, and he saw no reason to correct the misconception. 

 

“What the hell are these?” he instead asked, holding up the highball glass.

 

Coming to stand next to him, David hoisted his own drink with a wicked grin.  “Dude.  Don’t you recognize them?  They’re Muff Dives!”

 

Jesus.  When was the last time he had one of the alcoholic specialties that Richie and Dave concocted back in the day?  Way back in the day.  It must’ve been at least twenty-five years.  His focus shifted from the blend of peach schnapps, vodka and cranberry juice to the woman who blended them. 

 

Her face was flushed, and she still stroked her necklace with the hand that didn’t hold a drink, but other than that… she looked okay.  The smile she wore was obligatory without being stiff.  Her posture was perfect yet not rigid. 

 

And she had the presence of mind to serve something thoughtfully appropriate. 

 

Just like with the wine and scallops she served for dinner the other night.  Once again, Jon was struck by how comfortable it was that she simply knew things without him having to explain or suffer trial and error.  Even this bit of nostalgia was a warm, fond memory. 

 

She sure was making this dating thing easy.

 

Are you dating her?  You’re sitting here pretending to barely know “Dr. Montgomery”.  That’s not the sign of a dating-type relationship.

 

Okay, so maybe they weren’t “dating” in the traditional sense of the word.  Maybe they preferred keeping what they did have to themselves.  So what?  He still appreciated her unassuming familiarity with his life.

 

“This is great,” he approved, capturing Teddi’s eyes before lifting his glass in a toast.  “Thank you.”

 

The age-old blend had just trickled down his throat when there was a subtle chime that Jon assumed was the doorbell. 

 

Putting his glass on the table, he rose to say, “That’s probably the guy with the contracts.  I can get it, if you like.”

 

“I would appreciate that, Mr. Bon Jovi.  Thank you.”

 

With a nod, he moved in that direction, leaving David to sweep in and gallantly hold the empty chair for Teddi.  His dumbass antics had the women in the room giggling and Jon rolling his eyes.  Before all was said and done, the fucker would be calling himself Zorba the Gypsy Jew, wearing a scarf on his head and a big gold hoop in one ear.  He was going to drive Jon insane, without a doubt. 

 

Contracts, dinner with Steph and sex with Cookie.  Three very satisfying things that will happen before you even talk to Dave again.  Putting up with his crazy ass will be a cinch after all that. 

 

It was a reassuring thought, and one he held onto tightly when opening Teddi’s front door. 

 

The guy on the other side displayed a set of ridiculously white teeth when he smiled.  With a leather zipper bag tucked under one arm, the forty-something had dark hair sprinkled with gray and a beard to match.

 

“Mr. Bon Jovi,” he greeted.  “I believe you’re expecting some contracts.”

 

“You’re from my lawyer’s office?”

 

It was a dumb question, but dumb questions were a perk of celebrity status.  Nobody dared call you out on them, especially couriers.

 

As evidence, the man was completely unfazed.  He didn’t blink twice when extending an obligatory hand.  “Yes, sir.  Pierce Standiford.”