78 #SkullBumpery

Day was transitioning to evening in the Hamptons.  Shadows grew longer, and the light coming through Jon's kitchen windows was weaker than it had been when she first arrived. 

 

Not weaker, Teddi corrected herself while watching its play against the muscular forearms rinsing dishes.  Gentler, like the man who cradled a fragile waterglass for its bath.  Both the sun and Jon held as much power in this moment as any other; they simply reserved it until the time came to shine again. 

 

"I really wish you had let me take you out for dinner," he said over one shoulder and the sound of running water.  Teddi had offered to help wash up after their seafood pasta meal, but he flatly refused with the argument that loading the dishwasher was hardly a feat compared to all she'd done since waking up this morning. 

 

She considered protesting that it was nothing, but that would’ve been another pretty lie, so Teddi simply thanked him, fixed herself a cocktail, and kept him company while he worked.  The ugly truth was that this day had been exhausting.

 

Here she thought that simply getting from one house to the other might be the most distressing part of the day.  How naïve of her to forget that her real trauma took place with other humans, and that was most certainly the case. 

 

The encounter with Deidre wouldn’t be all that bothersome had it not been for her offhand comment about Truman’s suicide.  It was just another in the list of unpleasant family encounters in her life, but she certainly hadn’t planned to unveil the family secrets to Jon’s children – ever, much less within moments of meeting them.   But Jesse had joined them in the living room just as Teddi began to share the bare bones of her true lineage, so now the two eldest Bongiovi offspring were privy to her true and adoptive ancestry. 

 

Granted, they were both lovely about it.  Stephanie even hugged her and offered to lure Jacqueline into recouping the necklace.  As kind as the offer was, Teddi smothered her inner child’s impulse to say, “Yes, now!” and gracefully declined.  Jacqueline’s life with Deidre was difficult enough without aiding and abetting Teddi’s cause.

 

Jesse’s interest in her Gypsy heritage was a fortunate distraction that kept Stephanie from pursuing the matter.  They chatted about that for some time as well as her Bon Jovi fandom, baking skills and phrenology hobby until it was time for them to go.  Jesse met her eyes when telling her in all sincerity he was looking forward to chatting more upon his return – and that he wouldn’t mind finding Gypsies, cookies and a phrenology reading (not necessarily in that order) waiting when he did.

 

Jon’s children were perfectly charming and the whole encounter was far more pleasant than she could’ve imagined, but.… Well, suffice it to say that she enjoyed the solitude found in cooking a bit of dinner while Jon took a call.

 

She also enjoyed wandering the house while the pasta cooked.  It was an intimate treat to inspect family photos, books, objects d’art and random pieces of Americana he chose to surround himself with in this summer hideaway.   The previous summer, the Bon Jovi Instagram account had counted down to the current album release, featuring Jon in and around this home.  She’d pored over those photos in an attempt to absorb a drop of the atmosphere; now she was submerged.

 

It was sometimes difficult reconciling Jon Bon Jovi to the gentleman swearing at the lone fork that he’d missed putting in the dishwasher.  In her home, she could focus on Jon who touched her and made the world right again.  The one without accessory items to cloud her vision of who he really was as a person.  There were plenty of accessory items in this house that she’d obsessed over for many years, so the line between rock god and real guy was jaggedly blurry. 

 

She would simply have to try harder. 

 

"I appreciate that you wanted to take me out for dinner," she assured from the kitchen table, tilting her gin and tonic glass from one side to the other so that the melting ice mixed evenly in the alcohol.  "However, we both know that I'd already met my social interaction limit for the day."

 

"But damn if you didn't do it in style."  He closed the dishwasher door and leaned against it with a solemn expression.  "I didn't say this earlier because I thought it might sound condescending, but I'm proud of you."

 

She rolled her eyes toward one of the dusky windows, hoping to avoid the awkward events of the day.  "How embarrassing that civil conversation with your children is pride-worthy."

 

"I thought that went pretty damn well, but it’s not what I’m talking about," Jon said when stretching an arm down the counter to snag one of the few macarons not devoured by his son.  "I was referring to the showdown in the driveway.  You handled Deidre like a champ.”

 

“Also not pride-worthy, as Deidre is an unpleasant but recurring character in the story of my life.  ‘Handling’ her is old hat.  I do, however, wonder where she got the information about Truman’s death.  It’s very unsettling.”

 

“Yeah, I noticed it hit a nerve when she said you told her.”

 

“Which I most certainly did not,” Teddi attested, the solid bottom of her cocktail glass hitting the table top with a gentle thud.  “Other than you and I, no one knows but Tori and the coroner.”

 

“Was there ever any time she might’ve overheard you and Tori talking about it?”

 

“Not that I can recall.  I’ve seen her more this summer than I have in the past decade.  It’s not like we share the same social circles.”

 

“No offense, Cookie,” he drawled with a lazy wink meant to soften the observation.  “But your circle is more like Morse code – a dot here and there with the occasional dash thrown in.”

 

She chuffed softly.  “The dashes are generous. Braille is probably more appropriate, since it’s only dots.”

 

The colorful bit of honesty drew a hearty chuckle that pulled Teddi’s flat mouth into an upward curve.  She adored making him laugh. This relationship of theirs often felt unbalanced with him giving far more than he took, since he dismissed most of the social media coaching she offered.  This smile was much nicer than the rolling eyes that accompanied a Twitter lesson.

 

“You’re surprisingly funny sometimes, Cookie.”  A ghost of amusement still hovered in the blue sparkle of eyes as he gently pulled her to standing and hooked both wrists at the small of her back.  “When you’re not determined to be uptight.”

 

“Am I?  Perhaps I should be less uptight, then,” she mused, pretending to consider the matter.  “Yes, I shall – at least for this evening.  Could I ask you for a very silly favor?”

 

There was no visible hesitation.  It took less than a second for twinkling irises to settle into an earnest gleam that said far more than his simple, “Sure.” 

 

Teddi scolded her fluttering heart into submission.  This wasn’t the time to get carried away with the imagined subtext that he’d give her any favor she wanted.  That it would be his pleasure to do so.   No, she needed to absorb the inner peace that came with his touch and simply enjoy this slice of time. 

 

“Can I feel your skull bumps?”

 

The cheeky question was rewarded with another chuckle.  More of a snort, really.  “Seems like your hands have been in my hair at least a couple times.  You didn’t feel ‘em then?”

 

“At the time, I was more interested in fucking than phrenology.”

 

His wide grin hit Teddi’s mouth, tasting of rosé and macaron when their tongues swiped against one another.  The sweet friction and flavor didn’t last nearly long enough before a gentle peck ended it, and he and drew back to regard her with affection.  “You’re doing a good job of not being uptight, and damn if you aren’t cute.” 

 

“And you’re irresistible when you look so utterly content,” she returned.  Teddi pressed easy fingertips between his eyebrows, lightly following beneath the crest of orbital bone that formed a subtle shelf over his eyes. 

 

“Oh, Christ.  You’re really gonna do this?”  The muscles under her touch spasmed with his disdain.

 

“You didn’t refuse me, so yes.  I’m really going to do this.”

 

Ignoring his huff of feigned exasperation, she followed the top and bottom contour of his brow all the way to the tip of his zygomatic arch without finding any surprises.  Teddi had studied enough photos over the years to imagine how the bone would feel, so she reversed path and traced the arch of his cheek bones.

 

When she let out a soft hum, Jon demanded, “What?  You can’t make noises that sound like you found cancer and not tell me what the hell it means.”

 

“Cancer?  Really?” She mocked the exaggeration with a laugh.  “That ‘noise’ was me appreciating your fantastic cheekbones.  They have absolutely nothing to do with phrenology, but I couldn’t resist the chance to admire them.”

 

“Whatever.”  The man didn’t accept compliments well and was aggravated by Teddi using one as a diversion.  “You had a smug little look on your face when you were groping my eyebrows.  What was that about?”

 

Clearly, this wasn’t going to be just a quick inspection to satisfy her curiosity.  Her subject wanted a play-by-play, so she patiently started again at the inside corner of his eye, working her way to the outside while reciting her analysis.

 

“Individuality, weight, color, locality, and order.  All perfectly average.  That means you recognize people as individual beings, have a good concept of the relation between objects and their weight, color, placement and order.”  She touched the outside edge of his eyelid.  “The calculation faculty is here and is of ample size.  That accounts for your ability to compile and regurgitate album and tour statistics ad nauseum.”

 

The skin beneath her fingertips slipped low with a scowl.  “Is that a politely dressed insult?”

 

“No,” she snickered.  “Just a fact.  That enhanced calculation faculty leads into some other enhancements that wouldn’t surprise anyone who knows you.  Or of you, for that matter.”

 

He watched with intense concentration and tapped just above calculation.  “This little bit of overachieving skull tells me you like to drink, and the one right next to it extolls your musical perception.  The time faculty is also well-formed, along with eventuality and locality.”

 

She continued her survey, talking as she went about the slight swells that indicated secretiveness, loyalty, parental love, memory, self-esteem, sense of humor, benevolence, and the ability to come up with new ideas. 

 

“You’re making this shit up,” he accused during a pause in her report.  “It’s too complimentary.  Are you kissing my ass so I don’t badger you into going out of the house this week?”

 

“I am not kissing your ass, nor am I going out of the house this week.  Here.”  She took his fingers and placed them in a spot on the top of his head, just behind the hairline.  “Feel that indentation?”

 

“Yeah…?”

 

“That’s your underdeveloped imitative faculty.”

 

“Which is what, exactly?”

 

“I call it your acting ability.”  She owned and watched all of his movies, but Teddi preferred interview footage.  Of all the things Jon did, acting was not his strongest talent. 

 

“What the fuck?”  He drew back in disbelief, declaring, “My acting isn’t underdeveloped, goddammit.  I can act.”

 

“You… can,” she agreed slowly.  Placing a consoling hand in the center of his chest, she gave a regretful grimace and stage-whispered, “But you’re not great at it – and that’s the ugly truth, my friend.”

 

She’d thought he would see the humor in it, but Jon’s disbelief slipped away to leave behind a blank slate.  There were no thoughts written there for Teddi to read, and since he stood perfectly still, there was no body language.  Jon just stared at her while the silence grew to uncomfortable proportions and… was that a sheen of moisture in his eyes?

 

Damnation, Theodosia.  You’ve gone too far and hurt his feelings!  One cannot simply abandon all social decorum and speak without a filter, pretty lies or not. 

 

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me.  Do you know how many lessons I took?”

 

The questions were dull and flat, unlike his usual animated personality.  He seemed positively forlorn, and Teddi scrambled for a way to fix her blunder. “Oh, I was just being silly.  I certainly didn’t intend to be hurtful.  You’re a fine actor and I shouldn’t have…”

 

His lips quivered ever-so-slightly in a way that made her abandon the panicked apology to pin him with a narrowed glare of suspicion.  When he attempted to control the twitch by pressing his mouth in a flat line, Jon also smothered a cough.  Or was that a laugh? 

 

Teddi’s attention zipped up to find blue eyes dancing with barely suppressed mirth.  The damn man was playing her like a Steinway and she’d fallen for it. 

 

“What was it you were saying about my acting, Cookie?”

 

She gave him a half-hearted shove borne of both relief and infuriation.  “What I meant is that it’s not as developed as your musical ability, you horrible man!  It’s a good thing your amativeness is underdeveloped, too, because you won’t be using it tonight.”

 

“God knows I’m gonna regret asking, but what’s ‘amativeness’?”

 

“Your aptitude and enjoyment of physical love,” she informed him with a smirk, knowing perfectly well that his amative faculty was exceptionally formed.  She’d made a point of checking it the very first time her fingers were in his hair – but he didn’t realize that. 

 

What he did realize was that her acting skills were atrocious, because Jon hooted, “You’re full of shit!  If there’s anything I can be sure of, it’s that my sex bump is as big as they come.  And to prove it to you…”  a meaty forearm hooked Teddi’s waist and hauled her close enough to flatten their chests against one another.  “I’m gonna overcome my hurt feelings and fuck you all night.”

 

That offer might be enough to make her overlook his other shenanigans. 

 

“When you say ‘all night’ do you mean all night?”

 

His grin was wicked enough to tarnish an angel’s halo when saying, “All.  Damn.  Night.”