Ch 75 ~ Fireworks in the Hamptons

Sitting on an elevated two-acre site with over two hundred feet of direct frontage on Georgica Pond, and adjacent to a seventeen-acre meadow preserve, Charles Hardcastle had one of the most admired estates in all of East Hampton.  He wasn’t only known for owning the one-hundred-year-old mansion designed by noted architected Stanford White, either.  As CEO of First American Bank, he was a prominent figurehead among the Wall Street types who frequented these infamous beaches to which the rich and famous of the East Coast flocked every summer.

He was also Rachel’s boss.

Which is why she and Jon were currently milling beside the pool, and he wore an expression that was perfectly amicable to the untrained eye.  Rachel, however, was professionally trained in reading Jon’s facial expressions, and this one was pissy.  He was not thrilled to be here and was convinced that there was some kind of evil subterfuge afoot.

Objectively, she could see how he might think that, but she was convinced that he was overreacting.

Just because James had arrived on the Hamptons scene shortly – the day after – she and Jon had arrived with the kids at the beginning of August was no reason to be suspicious.  James had bought a home here years before and had often spent weekends there, Rachel recalled, while she was living in New Jersey the last time.  He’d even invited her to join him a time or two, explaining that the business contacts she could make in the Hamptons would be invaluable to her career.

So it wasn’t like he’d purchased a house for the sole purpose of stalking Rachel and Jon.

In fact, when they’d been enjoying some beach time with the kids earlier that day, it hadn’t even fazed Rachel when James had casually sauntered up to them and invited them to Mr. Hardcastle’s party this evening.

Repeat:  It hadn’t fazed her.

Jon, however….

“What?!?!” he had hissed the instant James was out of earshot, clearly unhappy that she had accepted the invitation.  “Why the fuck did you tell that cocksucker that we’d go?”

Rachel was grateful for Jacob and Romeo playing in the surf a couple dozen feet away.  She was convinced that it was only their presence that kept Jon from completely – and loudly – blowing a gasket. 

“I know we were planning on making the most of our alone time, after Dorothea picks up the kids this afternoon,” she sympathized evenly.  Intimacy had definitely taken a back seat to family time for the last few days, and they’d both been counting on this time to raise a little sexual ruckus.  “But I can’t count on my fingers and toes the number of your events I’ve had endure with a smile.  It won’t kill you to endure one for me.”

Rationale and reason had derailed his meltdown, for once, and he only grumbled and cursed under his breath – a couple of times an hour – until he intententionally parked on the street at the end of Charles Hardcastle’s ridiculously long driveway. 

“I don’t wanna wait for some goddamn valet once you give me the green light to go,” he explained, smoothing a hand over his hair and began the hike toward the front door.  “You realize it takes less time to hike Diamond Head than this?”

She had smiled up into his face and winked.  “Maybe next time we’ll use the valet service then.”

His scowl had magically disappeared when the door was opened by a party staffer – and had remained so until now. 

“How long do we have to stay?” he fussed, waiting for the bartender to fill his order.

“Oh honey,” she laughed quietly, patting the small of his back while kissing his cheek. “You know the drill.  We’ll see and be seen, make our appearance, smile with the boss and leave.  In theory, we could be home and writhing around on the bed within the hour.”

“I’m holding you to that.” He turned to lean against the bar and peruse the well-heeled crowd.  “I bet he sucks a mean dick,” Jon observed after his first swallow of wine, dipping his head toward the other side of the pool.

“What?  Who?”  She pivoted with her own glass, trying to see who he would make such a comment about when she spotted Mr. Harcastle – with James at his right hip.  James, who was dressed in navy linen trousers, a white button down shirt and a pink cardigan draped across his shoulders.  “Oh my word.  If you ever put on anything that even resembles what James is wearing, I swear I’ll never have sex with you again.”

“No worries, baby,” he snorted as she latched onto his hand and dragged him along toward the two men.  “You’ll never find anything other than pussy on my lips.”

“JON!  Please behave yourself tonight.”  She was aghast that he’d say something like that out loud in the middle of a crowd.  Well…  She was and she wasn’t.

“You don’t want a well-behaved man, Rachel.  No woman does.”

“Well put those acting classes to good use and pretend you’re one,” she ordered amusedly, under her breath, before stepping into her boss’s space and extending her hand.  “Charles, it’s so nice to see you again, thank you for having us.  This is my better half, Jon Bon Jovi.”

With the introductions made, small talk ensued.  Rachel was pleased to note that, for the most part, Jon and James were civil.  In fact, if she didn’t know better, they almost seemed friendly with one another.  She had no idea that Jon really could act.

“Rachel, your idea to donate the plot of land in California was excellent,” Charles interrupted her profound revelation with shop talk.  “I’d like to talk to you more about that and how we might utilize the concept company-wide in the future.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to take credit for the idea, that little brainstorm belongs to my man here.  Jon is very involved with Habitat for Humanity and, when I mentioned I was struggling to sell that parcel, he immediately suggested we donate it and take the tax credit.”

“We know you’re beautiful, Rachel,” James was quick to compliment, “But I’m sure Jon doesn’t want you to imply he’s the brains and you’re just the beauty.”

Jon had reached his fill of this bullshit.  He had played nice with this asshole as long as he wanted to, and silently willed Rachel to wrap this up with her boss so that they could get the fuck out of Dodge before he nut punched James for the fun of it.

Clenching his fist unobtrusively at his side, Jon flashed his press smile and casually popped of, “Nah, James.  She’s the brains.  I’m the pretty one.”

 “I see,” James responded politely before muttering, “I suppose rock stars don’t have to be humble.”

“Oh, bein’ a rock star has nothing to do with it,” Jon denied, clapping the man whom he considered his adversary on the shoulder with a hearty thump.  “It’s all about Rachel.  My head swelled to the size of a hot air balloon the minute she let me slip that rock on her finger.”

Take that, motherfucker!

“I’d like to hear more about how you became involved with Habitat, Jon,” Charles chimed in, and Jon’s irritation was replaced with an easy calm.

This was something he could engage in.  This was something relevant.  This wasn’t stupid-ass James trying to make himself look good in front of Jon’s woman.

“Well, sir…”  He angled himself so that he was directly facing Charles and putting James out of his line of sight.   “One night in Philadelphia, I looked out my hotel window and saw a homeless man sleeping in front of City Hall.  There I was, surrounded by all the history of our great nation and I thought ‘I don’t think this is what our forefathers had in mind.’  I dug deeper, met up with people in the know and that led me to Habitat.  Habitat for Humanity’s work speaks for itself – you’ve seen it. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina and the Tsunami, for example, Habitat was there – rebuilding lives. And that’s just in response to disaster. In Habitat’s 30 year history, they’ve built more than 200,000 home.  And dreams, by offering families a chance to be first-time homeowners.  It’s a great opportunity for your company to give back.  And, let’s face it, the tax benefits and good press will more than offset any net financial loss.”

Rachel beamed with pride and slipped an arm around Jon’s waist.  His enthusiasm for his passions was contagious, making him an insurmountable ambassador for any cause he chose to take under his wing, and he spoke with such clear insight.  One need only spend mere seconds with him to see he was more than a pretty face.  Much more.

Charles opened his mouth – to agree in Rachel’s mind – but before the CEO could do so, James guffawed rudely.  “That’s a lovely sentiment, Jon, but rock stars don’t have a Board of Directors to account to.  We’re in the business of making money, a profit center, and that’s not conducive to donating our nonperforming assets to the homeless!”

Rachel was ready to jump in with both feet to defend Jon’s position, but before she could get the first word out, Charles took it upon himself to counter James’s opinion.  “I don’t know about your take on this James.   I’m sure Jon is intimately familiar with the profit center concept, and he has an excellent point about the tax and PR benefits.  I’m surprised you don’t see this in the same light.”

“Jon is an excellent businessman, James,” Rachel informed her former lover.  “He’s turned the Bon Jovi brand into a worldwide billion dollar company.  Trust me… he’s forgotten more about making money than you and I combined will ever know.”

Rather than being deterred and moving on to another subject, James didn’t respond to her, choosing instead to continue his conversation with Jon as though she and Charles hadn’t interjected.  “I know you had to have covered profit in college.  It’s in every basic business course.”  He cocked his head to the side inquisitively.  “Where is you went to college again, Jon?”

There was little doubt that the question was pointedly intended to be a dig at Jon’s lack of formal education, and the muscle in his jaw very nearly ached from clenching it until he could pull off a fake casual smile and tone of voice.

“Actually, man, I didn’t go to college.  I was too busy gettin’ rich in the real world.  The sweat on this old collar is my PhD and all that.”

“Oh, well that explains it then…”