41 #BigTop

 

Jon dumbly watched Teddi flee down the hall while his feet remained rooted to the floor.  What the hell was he supposed to do?  Instinct urged him to follow behind and check on her – to hold her hand until she calmed. 

 

His eyes darted to Pierce, and then the undisturbed group at the table. 

 

But what about them?  When he got here, Teddi had made it very plain that she wanted to portray their relationship as a business one.  If he went and hovered over her, that image would be shattered.

 

Fuck.

 

He hadn’t realized that asking about Pierce’s familiarity with the house would be a hot button.  Granted, the timing was shitty, but it was a question borne of simple curiosity.  He’d even made a point of saying it didn’t matter to him that she’d slept with the guy.  That was specifically to prove he wasn’t judging, and then she turned around and accused him of that very thing. 

 

Hell, Jon wasn’t judging.  He was just trying to stave off the mental pictures of her naked under a man who was probably a decade younger than himself.  Whose back wouldn’t knot up after a vigorous bout of sex.  Who would’ve left beard burn on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

 

Well, fuck that, because she didn’t belong to that guy anymore.  Cookie was with Jon now.

 

Good for you, asshole.  Doesn’t change anything.  She still doesn’t want anyone here to know that. 

 

“Aren’t you going after her?” Pierce asked with censure that irritated Jon.

 

“Aren’t you here to work up my contracts?”

 

“I am.”  The man’s jaw ticked confrontationally.  “But I’m also loyal to my friends, and you were upsetting her.  It’s on you to fix it.”

 

“How do you know it was me?  She was fine until you came over.” 

 

“Not from what I saw, but okay,” Pierce acquiesced with a shrug.  “I’ll go check on her, then.”

 

“Think you can find the bathroom on your own?”  The sarcastic remark fell from Jon’s mouth without conscious thought.  Pissing off the guy who was supposed to be covering his business ass wasn’t a smart move, but oh well.  Somebody had to bear the brunt of his frustration, and good old Pierce was just standing there asking for it.

 

Once again proving that the lucky horseshoe in Jon’s ass was in good working order, the other man didn’t get the chance to reply.  David chose that precise moment to join them, and Jon’s mellow buddy eyeballed the pitcher that held nothing but vodka and schnapps with a frown. 

 

Turning that frown on Jon, he quizzed, “I thought Teddi was fixing more Dives?  Where’d she go?”

 

Seeing as he was involved in a stare-down, Jon’s reply was slow in coming.  Pierce’s heavy gaze didn’t shift, but he still managed to supply a pointed, “She became ill.”

 

“Sick?  What’s wrong?  Why isn’t somebody with her?”  A curly head swung sharply back and forth for answers that he evidently found, because he gave them both an exasperated glare before setting off in the same direction Teddi had gone.  “I’ll just leave you two to finish your pissing contest while I make sure our hostess isn’t suffering alcohol poisoning.”

 

“It’s not a pissing contest,” Jon muttered, but his “adversary” didn’t share that opinion.

 

“Sure it is,” came the bland disagreement.  “I’m just not sure why you think it’s necessary.”

 

It was necessary because somebody besides him needed to carry the blame for Teddi’s upset.  Jon was the one who calmed her, not the one who caused her to need calming. 

 

Now, though, he was afraid his “help” would only make her worse by revealing the relationship she wanted to be kept secret.  That’s the only thing that had him picking up the cranberry juice and sloshing it into the half-full pitcher.

 

“Grab some ice, will ya?”

 

The cookies can damn-well stay on top of the fridge.

 

#####

 

“Teddi Bear?  You okay in there?” 

 

The quiet knock came just as Teddi was dabbing residual mouthwash from her lips.  She hadn’t actually evacuated the vodka and Xanax from her stomach, but the minty-fresh taste was an improvement over bile. 

 

Why is David the one knocking?

 

She’d childishly hoped that Jon would follow and act as her security blanket.  That he’d put aside his badgering and judgment long enough to fold her into a hug.  That she could stay there until the anxiety was at a manageable level. 

 

Instead, she got his quirky friend, and that meant the moment for mollycoddling herself had passed.  It was time to put on her public face and pretend to be normal.

 

Smoothing a hand over hair that was hopelessly tousled thanks to Tori, she resolutely straightened sagging shoulders and drew a deep breath.  After slowly releasing it, she pasted on a smile and turned the knob on the half-bath door.    

 

“I’m fine, David.”  There was only the slightest tremor in the assertion, and Teddi was likely the only one who noticed.  She cleared her throat and tilted her head to a politely inquisitive angle.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

He hiked a lazy thumb in the direction of the kitchen.  “That guy – Pierce – said you weren’t feeling well.”

 

Pierce. 

 

Stop.  Don’t go there.  You cannot consider that everyone will discover who he is.  He’s a mature, professional man, who signed a non-disclosure.  Your friend, by his own admission.  He will not reveal the nature of your relationship.  He won’t.

 

“I was a bit queasy for a moment,” she explained it away with a delicately wrinkled nose.  “Too much alcohol, too quickly.”

 

“I remember those days.  Vaguely.  From a very long time ago.  Don’t worry, though.  Nothing a little alcohol training won’t fix.”  Crooking his elbow, he offered, “May I escort m’lady back to the festivities?”

 

The phone in Teddi’s pant pocket buzzed against her thigh, bringing a thoughtful frown.  Nearly everyone she communicated with was inside this house.  Who could be texting her?

 

Endicott.

 

The way her evening was going, probably.  But it would only take a second to confirm it and delete the message.     

 

“An escort would be lovely,” she conceded while withdrawing the device.  “Let me just check this message first.”

 

[5:41 PM]JON:  I’m sorry.

 

The two simple words carried a much-needed balm.  She hadn’t expected to get an apology.  She wasn’t even sure she was due one, but the fact that he’d made effort to give one created a little ball of warmth in her icy midsection.  She might even be able to forego the extra pill she’d been desperately craving a few moments ago. 

 

“Which one of them is it?”

 

Simultaneously blinking up at David and darkening the phone screen Teddi inquired, “I beg your pardon?”

 

“Just wondering if it was Jon or Pierce.”

 

“What makes you think it was either one?”

 

David’s shoulder leisurely lifted and fell.  “They were having a testosterone tug of war in the kitchen just now.  I assume it had to do with you, so it stands to reason one of ‘em would text.”

 

Just as that warm ball began to thaw her soul, it suffered a flash-freeze.  Surely, David was wrong.  There was no reason for those two men to… do anything.  They shouldn’t even be in the same place at the same time.

 

“I’m sure they were just discussing contracts.  I can’t imagine why you think it has anything to do with me.”

 

The soft snort was immediate.  “You’re the only one who can’t imagine why.  Both those dudes are into you, Teddi Bear.  Hell, your cousins are taking bets on which one gets the girl – or which one has already had the girl.”

 

Minty fresh bile wasn’t any more pleasant than regular bile she discovered when it once again rose in her throat.

 

“P-please tell me that’s some kind of bizarre joke.”

 

“Sorry, babe.  No joke.  Well, almost all your cousins.  Tori isn’t betting; she’s fixated on the hostile company takeover.  What’s the deal with your family anyway?  CEO cousin sounds like a dick.”

 

Perhaps David had good intentions in giving her this unwanted insight.  He might think knowledge was power, but in this case, Teddi would’ve gladly remained weak and ignorant.  Knowing that her outspoken cousins had taken notice of the undercurrents….

 

How was she going to be able to go back out there?

 

“You’re lookin’ a little pale, TB.”  Thick eyebrows crinkled with concern, and gentle hands cupped her shoulders.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

No.  No, she wasn’t okay, and pretending any differently was becoming impossible.  Her acting skills had been stretched to the limit.

 

“Not really,” she mumbled.  “I believe I should go lie down.”

 

“Alright.  Where?  Upstairs?  I’ll help you.”

 

Teddi eased out from under his grasp with an easy side-step toward the doorway on this end of the hall.  While the one at the opposite end led to the kitchen, this was a direct path to the entry hall.  All she had to do was slide around David and up the stairs to her bedroom.  There might be a prescription bottle in the nightstand drawer. 

 

Please, God, let there be a prescription.

 

“Th-Thank you, David, but that’s not necessary. Please extend my regrets.  My presence is- isn’t needed for the contracts.  Mr. Bon Jovi c-can handle those.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not entirely true.”

 

The voice dashing her hopes was a regretful one, and Teddi’s head whipped toward it to find Pierce slowly approaching from the kitchen.  With facial features matching his tone, he did appear to be genuinely remorseful about something. 

 

Something she probably didn’t want to know but, at the same time, had to.

 

“Why isn’t it true?” she weakly demanded as David’s arm slipped around her back.  Grateful for the physical support, she didn’t even mind the closeness. 

 

“I’m sorry, Teddi, but my legal firm doesn’t only represent Jon.”

 

Her breaths grew shallower, depleting her air flow.  Lack of oxygen must also equate to a lack of etiquette, because she couldn’t keep from biting with annoyance, “And what’s all that about, anyway?  Your legal firm?”

 

Showing more restraint than she had, Pierce cast wary eyes in David’s direction while delivering a careful, “That was never a real job; it was just a diversion after my divorce.  I would’ve quit long ago if it wasn’t for you.”

 

“Told ya the dude has a thing for you.”

 

The smug murmur was just loud enough to find Teddi’s ear.  Honestly, it was unbelievable that she could hear it over the heavy pounding of her heart – almost as unbelievable as the statement itself.

 

“He d-does not have a thing for me.”

 

“Maybe a little thing,” Pierce countered with a sheepish head tilt.  “I miss you, Teddi.  After I left last time, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I enjoyed the movie, conversation and company.”

 

On any other day, she might’ve been able to explain away Pierce’s “thing”.  She could have come up with some valid psychological reason for it, and they would’ve laughed it off over a glass of wine with no hard feelings.

 

Right now, she couldn’t explain it.  The millions of neurons blasting like fireworks in her brain hid whatever logical words were hiding in there.  Stress was manifested in all points of her anatomy.  Numb fingers and lips.  Tingling toes and scalp.  Hot face.  Clammy skin.  Her body was too busy fighting for survival to waste energy on words.

 

Clearing his throat, Pierce gracefully removed her obligation to speak.  “But that’s a conversation for another time.  Tonight, I’m here not only to get signatures on Mr. Bon Jovi’s contracts but another one as well.  One prepared for you, Teddi, that I strongly urge you to sign.”

 

She blinked at him with gritty eyes, helplessly waiting for the other shoe to drop while an impatient David commanded, “Get to the fucking point already, would you, man?  What kind of contract?”

 

“What the hell is going on out here?”

 

Teddi’s bleary focus edged past Pierce to the far end of the hall.  Tori was there, looking cross as she approached. 

 

This narrow corridor was getting awfully crowded.  It felt kind of like a clown car, and unbidden, a circus theme started playing in Teddi’s head.  A lively calliope cranked out the classic “dum-dum-dum- diddy -dum-dum-dum” that the entire world identified with elephants, peanuts, cotton candy and acrobats. 

 

She might think she was losing her grip on reality, but there frankly wasn’t a more appropriate soundtrack to this evening.

 

And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have our knife-wielding trapeze artist swooping in from the heights of the Big Top.  Today, she will be performing double-duty by also serving as lion tamer. 

 

Unbeknownst to anyone, she deliriously assigned David the role of clown.  Pierce was cast as the lion who needed taming, since it felt like he was set to shred her entire psyche with one powerful swipe of his paw.    

 

The calliope in her head switched tunes, gaily piping out “Send in the Clown” as David explained, “Pierce here is just about to explain what kind of contract he brought for Teddi Bear to sign.”

 

Her petite cousin’s chin hiked so that Tori could cast a suspicious glare directly into Pierce’s face.  “I thought you were here working for JBJ?”

 

“I am.  I just happen to be also representing another client at the same time.”

 

“Who?”

 

Standing upright was becoming a problem.  Teddi found herself struggling to stay balanced, even with the hard arm curled around her back.  She was tired of the circus and wanted to simply slide into unconsciousness while they all packed up and left town.  Or her house, at least.

 

“Yes, please, Pierce,” she pleaded thinly as the ringmaster (Jon) emerged from the kitchen, looking ready to assume command.  “Get to the point already.”

 

“I didn’t mean to be dramatic,” Pierce apologized.  “This isn’t bad news at all.  The contract is a fantastically generous offer from Endicott Peabody for your share of the company.  You can’t possibly refuse it.  In fact, I’m not supposed to let you refuse it.”

 

Just when she thought the final circus act was taking a bow, along came the evil monkey who had been climbing her back all week - Endicott.  The weight of the little monster was the just enough to buckle Teddi’s knees.  Even David’s grip wasn’t enough to keep her from sinking to the floor. 

 

Gravity was as heavy on her eyelids as it was her body, and they drifted shut for the downward spiral.  The last sound she registered was Jon’s, “Catch her!”, and it was underscored by the heavy thump of flesh – her ­flesh – on hardwood.

 

Strike the Big Top.  The encore’s over.