54 #Communication

Teddi had salmon steaks planned for dinner, but since five o’clock was still a bit early get that underway, she opted for pre-dinner cocktails.  After listening to Jon share David’s seemingly endless stream of inappropriate comments on the cookie post and Stephanie’s “grow up” remarks to them both…  Well, she deserved a drink. 

 

Putting away the last of the baking paraphernalia, she turned to the man cheerfully nibbling “almond clits” at her kitchen island.  "What wine would you like for happy hour?"

 

"Whatever sounds good to you," Jon deferred, rubbing his fingers together to dislodge the crumbs onto a napkin.  "I'm not picky."

 

"I'm in the mood for something a bit stiffer, so the wine is all yours."

 

His grin was nothing short of incorrigible.  "Stiffer like my dick?  Jesus, nympho, we'll get to that in a little while."

 

It was cute that he found himself amusing, and it was even cuter that he was relaxed enough to make dirty banter with her.  She liked this warm camaraderie almost as much as the sex.  In some respects, more.  Sex she’d had.  Male camaraderie was something new, despite fifteen years of marriage.

 

Truman had been a good companion.  They got along comfortably but with an air of civility that never quite faded.  She couldn’t imagine feeling free enough to exchange off-color commentary with her late husband, nor could she imagine enjoying it. 

 

"A stiff drink will make your stiff dick all the more irresistible, so I’m having gin and tonic.  Help yourself to whatever you want from the fridge.”

 

“Odd choice of booze, Cookie.  I don’t know many people that drink gin.”

 

“It’s a snob thing.  Prep school girls steal gin from their mothers every weekend for Sunday night dorm parties.  I developed a taste for it.”

 

Opening the cabinet designated for liquor, she took out her Tanqueray while he went to peruse wine offerings.  Pinot grigio, chardonnay, and the Hampton Water she thought of as his grandchild were all  chilled for his pleasure. 

 

The latter was what he ultimately selected, saying, "Pink goes with everything."

 

"So does beige... and gin," she pointed out, holding up the glass of crystal-clear alcohol, tonic and ice.  "Nothing clashes with that, except perhaps nookie cookies.  How were they, by the way?  Worth the harassing messages that your friend has undoubtedly sent to my Instagram account?”

 

“I thought he’d moved on to bugging the hell out of you with calls and text messages?”

 

“He has but can’t seem to let go of Instagram.  He calls my skullbump account the ‘OG Teddi Bear’.”

 

Jon snorted while tipping wine into the stemware she’d provided.  The pale liquid flowed fast and smooth under a sure hand, until the glass was unapologetically filled to the brim.  When it came to his wine and his sex, he was a little uncouth. 

 

Teddi liked that more than a proper lady should, and it had her thinking about a round of drunken debauchery.  The eighties had been the perfect time for that, but so would the night of the Hall of Fame announcement.  Good news and celebratory wine would inebriate him enough to release the few inhibitions he held, making the sex raw, raunchy and without remorse. 

 

Her thighs clenched together to massage the ache building between them.  Maybe his nympho comment wasn’t too far off the mark. 

 

The man is talking.  Focus, Theodosia.    

 

“Cookies were good,” he complimented, circling back to the original question while she doused her libido with a healthy drink of gin.  “Definitely the fun, but based on taste alone, I prefer the kippers."

 

“They’re more work, but I rather enjoy the process, so you won’t go without.” 

 

"They’re nostalgic for you, didn’t you say? Something about your mom?"

 

Gesturing for him to come along to the den, she nodded. "Mhm.  Mama used to let me help her bake them.  She'd throw a pinch of powdered sugar in the air and call it fairy dust for her fairy girl.  It's one of my most vivid memories of her.  That and her necklace."

 

She settled onto one of the couches with her drink, angling toward the middle cushion that he claimed for his own.  Much like the last time they'd been here, he drew up a knee and leaned an arm on the back cushions in order to face her. 

 

"What necklace?  Your nervous one?"

 

"No."  Teddi's gaze shifted to the windows, but the image she saw had nothing to do with the back yard.  "It was a locket with a crescent moon and star on the front.  The star had a center diamond, and the moon had five diamonds along its curve."

 

"Five diamonds is kind of a specific thing to remember."

 

A melancholy smile tugged at one corner of her mouth.  "I was five when she died.  She'd always told me the diamond in the star was me, and the tips of the crescent moon encasing it were her arms.  Those five diamonds represented the five years she got to keep me all to herself."

 

"That's... odd."  Handsome features drew into a troubled pucker.  "Did she know she was going to die?"

 

It was a question Teddi had asked herself a number of times during her own life.  Had Mama held the same gift of prediction that Maggie did?  Had she known something the rest of them didn't?  Woefully, those questions would never be answered. 

 

"Sometimes I wonder, but she never led me to believe that at the time.  When I'd ask about the rest of my years, she'd open the locket and show me that they were tucked safe inside.  In place of the traditional photos, Mama's locket held a field of tiny diamond chips.  Flecks, really.  She said they were smaller because I hadn't yet filled them with life, and that one would grow bigger with every birthday I celebrated.  Quite fanciful for a child to imagine."

 

"She sounds kinda magical."

 

"She was," Teddi affirmed with gentle fondness.  "Mama was unique in every way."

 

"Do you still have the necklace?"

 

"Only in my memories.  It was lost after she died.  No one knows what happened to it."

 

"How did she pass, if you don't mind my asking?"

 

Ice clinked in Teddi's glass as she opted for a deep swallow before offering a somber, "Anaphylactic shock.  An allergic reaction while she was cleaning a room."

 

"Your mom was a maid?"

 

"Yes.  At the Four Seasons in Boston.  That's how she met Randolph."

 

"But didn't he live in Boston?  Why was he staying at a hotel?"

 

"That’s something else I don’t know.  It didn’t make enough of a difference for me to violate his ‘no speaking to the bastard child’ credo.  I didn’t like thinking of him with Mama, anyway, so I never bothered trying.  All I know is that he was a guest often enough to recognize her and develop an attraction.  One he acted on at least once," she noted dryly, sweeping a hand in front of herself.  "As you can see."

 

His studious gaze followed the same path as her hand before he shook a thoughtful head.  "You know, I gotta tell you…. you don’t look like any Gypsy I ever imagined.  Knowing Cher probably makes me biased, but I think of Gypsies as looking more like your cousins.  Not with blonde hair and blue eyes.”

 

A million times Teddi had wished for the dark appearance of her Gypsy cousins, if for no other reason than to defy the Peabody bloodlines.  Genetics wasn’t on her side, however, so the people she most resembled were Deidre and Endicott.  

 

"Most of my Bihari family have the same coloring as Cher,” she explained.  “But I told you Mama was magical in every way, and that includes her appearance.  She was albino, meaning my pigmentation comes from the Peabody side of the family."

 

"Wow.  No wonder she caught his attention."

 

"Yes.  She was visually striking, to say the least.  I remember calling her a snow queen, but after her passing, it comforted me to think of her as an angel watching over me.”

 

"I'm sure she is.”  Jon reached out to place a comforting hand on Teddi’s knee and left it there, allowing her to savor his warmth.  "What kind of allergy did she have?  Anything you inherited?” 

 

A smile twitched at her mouth, but she pursed it into a judgmental pucker, asking facetiously, “Are you planning my demise?  As I recall, you’re the one who demanded to sleep here, so if you’re feeling smothered, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

 

“Don’t be a smartass,” he sniped with a sharp, admonishing squeeze to her knee.  “I’d just like to avoid any potentially life-threatening situations.”

 

 

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s no need for concern.  I don’t share her seafood allergy.”

 

“Good to know.”  His eyes fell down as though debating his next words, and when they lifted again, sympathy made them glow a softer shade.  “I'm sorry you didn't have longer with her.  Sorry things turned out the way they did."

 

"Thank you,” she acknowledged, appreciating his sincerity even though the scars of her trauma were no longer painful.  “But Grandmother Peabody was good to me, and I'm grateful-"

 

"No, she wasn't.”  Jon’s interruption was scornfully sharp. "I've not heard one damn thing that could be classified as 'good'.  She took you in due to appearances, tortured you into a mold that you're still afraid to break out of and subjected you to a bunch of assholes."

 

Teddi’s eyelashes fluttered with shock at his absolute conviction on the subject.  She hadn't realized he'd given it that much deliberation.  The things he’d stated were all true, but there were also positive aspects to having money, manners, and an education.  She should argue those points, but quite frankly, she found his supportiveness very uplifting and preferred to absorb it rather than rebuff it. 

 

"Tori's going to be crushed that you referred to her as an asshole."

 

Her attempt at humor didn't completely erase the dark lines from his face, but they smoothed significantly, and joined her in avoiding a debate on her grandmother’s virtues.   "I've met her online personality, Vinnie.  She's not really in a position to argue the point."

 

“Touché,” she agreed with a conciliatory nod. “And with that, I respectfully decline further conversation about my family.  I’ve shared enough for one evening.  It’s your turn to confess.”

 

“What is it you’re expecting me to confess?”

 

She liked that he wasn’t defensive about whatever question or accusation awaited.  His posture was easy and relaxed as he sipped Hampton Water and watched her over the glass rim. 

 

“I don’t know exactly, but your reaction was odd when you heard Pierce had called.  Why?”

 

A careless shoulder shifted the fit of his black t-shirt, and there was no shame in his bluntly stated, “Because I told him to stay the fuck away from you.”

 

“You… what?” Teddi’s head automatically tipped to one side with the same confusion that narrowed her eyes.  “Why did you do that?”

 

“You have short-term memory loss and not remember what I said last time I was in this kitchen?”

 

There was no forgetting what he said that morning.  Like any smitten woman, she’d spent a lot of time hitting that mental rewind button.  The quiet moments before falling asleep had given her plenty of opportunity to commit the words to memory. 

 

“Because I’m yours, and you don’t feel like sharing.”

 

“No evidence of memory loss,” he approved.  “He flat out told me he’d still contact you for business.  It sounds like the call stuck to that premise, so I’ll let him have it as a ‘gimme’ for earning an honest living.”

 

Telling her that she belonged to him like a watch was hot in the context of a growing relationship.  Telling someone else she belonged to him didn’t generate the same heat.  In fact, it raised a big red flag, because he wasn’t supposed to be the jealous type.

 

“The machismo routine is sexy when it’s just you and me.  Call me your whore, shackle me or brand me in whatever way makes you feel good.  I’ll allow it and enjoy it.  On the odd occasion, I might even beg for it.”

 

A lazy smirk complemented the spark of inspiration lighting up his pupils, but he didn’t get the chance to share whatever that inspiration might be since Teddi cut him off with a silencing hand.

 

“How-ever, it is not appropriate for you to dictate whom I speak to.  I’m a grown woman with an untattered moral fiber and strong sense of loyalty.  If you’re insecure about either of those things, I recommend addressing them with me instead of creating a misguided safety net for yourself.”

 

“This has nothing to do with your moral fiber.”

 

“It absolutely does,” she countered.  “If you thought mine was intact, it wouldn’t matter if George Clooney was blowing up my phone.  You’d trust me to do the right thing.”

 

Rather than taking the predictable path in a conversation of this ilk, Jon didn’t jump to assure that she had his implicit trust.  He bypassed that and hitched a speculative eyebrow to thoughtfully focus on, “Clooney, huh?”

 

“What?”

 

“Clooney.  He your celebrity crush?”

 

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”  She rolled her eyes.  “You know very well that you are.  Don’t change the subject.”

 

“Well, other than me.  Is he the guy I’d have to give you a free pass for?  Because it could make the odd charity event kind of awkward.”

 

Frustrated with the absurd turn of events, she gave him annoyed frown and reached forward to take his wineglass.  “I think you’ve had enough of that, because you’re starting to talk nonsense.”

 

Teddi half-expected him to put up a fight, but he was unnervingly calm when relinquishing custody.  She’d caught glimpses of his fabled temper here and there since they’d been friends, but tonight it was nowhere to be found. 

 

He simply watched both glasses find a spot on the table before offering an unruffled, “I trust you, yanno.”

 

“Oh?  How nice.”

 

“Don’t be that way,” he gently scolded away the sarcasm she couldn’t seem to stifle. 

 

“What way?”

 

“All bitchy and offended.”

 

She flinched at the unvarnished truth yet didn’t back down.  “I’m sorry about the bitchy part, but the offended part is on you.”

 

“Not my fault you’re looking at this ass backward.”

 

She was really, really trying to rein in the bitchiness, but he wasn’t doing anything to help.  “How about you describe the view from your ass?”

 

The infuriating man grinned with enough gusto to crease his face with dimples, laugh lines and crow’s feet.  All those “wrinkles” should emphasize his age, but no.  Of course not.  The youthful delight in those baby blues outshone everything else, rendering him both ageless and staggeringly handsome.    

 

As agitated as she was, her heart still skipped a beat when he laughed, “Damn, I like you.” 

 

“And I you.  Now get on with it.”

 

Without disagreeing, he reached to hook a finger under Teddi’s pinky and wriggled until all five were interlaced with hers. 

 

“Pierce is the one I don’t trust, and I got no plans to apologize for that.  Not when he’s trying to influence you into a deal that benefits your shithead brother.”

 

“Half-brother,” she corrected absently.  The thumb he was stroking against hers went a long way toward neutralizing her irritation. 

 

“Half-brother,” he obliged.  “Full shithead, though.”

 

“I’ll concede that.”

 

After flashing another boyish smile, Jon resumed his justification.  “And I didn’t go after the guy like some kind of jealous lover.  He happened across my path when I was dropping Tori’s contract at the lawyer’s office, so I took the opportunity to do a little influencing of my own.  All nice and civil.”

 

Being a woman was complicated.  A moment ago, Teddi was indignant at his overbearing behavior and lack of trust.  Now that his motives were clear, she had the tiniest twinge of disappointment. 

 

“So, you weren’t being possessive.  You were protecting my business interests.”

 

“Eh.”  He shrugged.  “Ninety-five percent business.  Five percent possessive.”

 

And just like that, the disappointment faded.  There was nothing wrong with five percent.  That was perfectly acceptable by anyone’s standards.  Enough to show he cared, but not enough to act on as a standalone emotion.  She liked that percentage very much.

 

“Okay.  I accept your explanation.”

 

“So the view from my ass is acceptable?”

 

Ignoring his cheeky tone and smile, she nodded and squeezed the hand still holding hers.  “With one notable exception.”

 

“Yeah?  What’s that?”

 

“My free pass wouldn’t be Clooney; it would be Sting.  I’ve heard he has tantric sex for hours at a time.”

 

Jon threw his head back, and the long laughter allowed Teddi full view of his bobbing Adam’s apple.  When she was reduced to finding his neck sexy, it was time to go upstairs.  They may not have sex for hours, but they would have it – and it would be stellar.