Ch 36 - Size Matters

In the days after Jon and Rachel’s appearances in Las Vegas, the press published dozens of pictures of their time in Sin City.  The most popular were the ones that had been surreptitiously snapped during Cher’s show.  Those were…  revealing, even in her eyes.  There was no denying the emotion between her and Jon, and it was particularly evident in one photo.  The photographer had been somewhere behind them and caught a silhouette shot that, even without analyzing the background, she knew was taken during “After All”.  Why?  Because she looked positively besotted and he didn’t look any less so. 

Fickle as they were, though, some of the media outlets overlooked those and went directly on to speculating that they’d gone their separate ways.  That’s what happened when the press caught wind of Rachel returning home after Bon Jovi’s Denver show, while he carried on with the tour.  Little did they know it was only his charming ways after the Cher show that lured her into going as far as Denver in the first place. 

The story of “them” was deemed credible enough to escalate past the level of “gossip” and surpassed the level of grocery store rags.  More credible publications like People Magazine and US Weekly had both picked up the story and printed the accompanying photos.  The “Seattle Slew”, as she had come to think of Jon’s tawdry threesome, had died down in the wake of legitimate news. 

At least in the public eye. 

With the her niece, Lauren’s, wedding now only days away, Rachel thought her family would manage to overlook the Seattle Slew in the flurry of preparations.  No such luck.   When she joined them for a mid-week “girl’s day out”, the very same magazines that were being hawked at the grocery store checkout stands were prominently displayed at the salon.  It gave them both the glorious opportunity to question (grill) Rachel and discuss (at length) the soundness of her decision to move forward in a relationship with Jon.

It left Rachel weary, and the work she’d used to successfully immerse herself in so many times wasn’t providing any respite this time around.

The girls in the office had known absolutely nothing of her connection to “the” Jon Bon Jovi prior to the media hailstorm.  Now everyone in the office knew and found a thousand ways to casually ask questions about her intimate relationship with fame.  For the most part, they were easily satisfied and easily brushed off. 

However, once James got wind of it…

“Rachel, could I speak to you for a moment?” he asked, stepping inside her office and closing the door.

“Of course, James,” she immediately agreed, naively assuming he wanted to discuss her problematic client that was still trying to back out of a sale.  “What’s up?”

Parking himself in one of her guest chairs and crossing his legs, he regarded her solemnly.  “I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I’m sorry?  Do you think I should have handled Josie’s situation differently?”

“No, no,” he waved off the concern with a flick of his wrist.  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the sleazy putz who is splashed all over the tabloids.”

Oh great.  Here we go…

She arched one eyebrow at him.  “I’ll assume you’re talking about Jon and not me?”

“Of course I’m not talking about you!  Rachel, how can you seriously think this guy is better for you than I am?  You hate being the center of attention, yet I can’t go to the grocery store without seeing your face on a tabloid.”

James was right.  She could mix and mingle with practically anyone, but she’d much prefer being able to blend into the woodwork after she did so.  Putting her life out there for the world to digest wasn’t something that had exactly been on her bucket list, but life didn’t always work out the way it was planned.  If nothing else had come of her “grief counseling”, she’d learned that much. 

“That’s true.  I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to be hounded by photographers, but sometimes you have to make a sacrifice for the greater good.”

“Well, you know, a life with me wouldn't put you in a position like this.”  

“James, I thought we’d already had this discussion…”

“No, no,” he protested, holding up a hand.  “Hear me out.  You’re a refined, elegant woman who likes her privacy.  He’s out wielding his dick as if he’s on the ark – two by two – and advertising it to the free world.  I mean, seriously, Rachel…  How can you possibly feel good about that?”

She rubbed subtly at her temple, where a headache was starting to form.  The temptation was to tell him to go fuck himself and get the hell out of her office, but there was a fine line that had to be walked. 

Firstly, she liked to think of herself as loyal and James really went above and beyond when she’d come back emotionally bruised and hurting.   He’d held her hand while she healed and held reasonable expectations that she might eventually pursue a life and future with him.  Truthfully, he’d been pretty gracious about stepping aside when Jon reappeared.

And then there was the fact that he was her boss… 

But if she looked at it in that light, he was crossing the line – big time.  Her personal life was irrelevant to her work life unless it affected performance.  Considering the deals that she’d managed since Jon had returned, she reined in her annoyance – to the best of her ability – and managed to sound only moderately condescending when replying, “I know you’re not playing the man whore card here, because you bought and dealt that deck when you cheated on me the first time around.  That pretty well took away your authority to pass any kind of moral judgment, as far as I’m concerned.”

“That’s different,” he protested leaning forward in his chair.  “I’ve told you time and again I was just a stupid kid when that happened.  I grew up.  He clearly hasn’t.”

Neither have you, if you can’t accept my decision and move on.

She sat up perfectly straight in her chair and met his gaze dead-on so that there could be no misunderstanding in what she was about to say. 

“James, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but this is truly none of your business.  If you’d like to discuss something related to work, then my door is always open.  If you want to second-guess my judgment in my personal relationships, please don’t bother even knocking.”

A thundercloud darkened his handsome features as he pushed to his feet.  “If I’d realized you’d be so open-minded to a threesome, I would’ve made that proposition long ago.”

She knew he was only striking out because he was hurt, but it took a deep dip into her pool of restraint to keep Rachel from leaning across the desk and slapping him.  Her voice remained incredibly calm when she requested quietly, “Please leave.”

He was already halfway to the door, turning back to her with his hand on the knob.  “I won’t pick up the pieces for you this time, Rachel.”

“There won’t be any pieces this time.  He’s the one that makes me whole.” 

The door shuddered behind him when he slammed it, “silently” venting his displeasure with her parting shot.

Okay, so that last little bit was her just being bitchy, but she still managed to deliver it in an even and civil tone.  That deserved at least three gold stars from the etiquette books on successfully managing a personal life in the workplace.  Maybe four.

All in all, the two days she’d been home had been hellish and by the end of this particular day, she wanted a glass of wine and a long, luxurious soak in the tub.  Feeling especially self-indulgent, the glass she chose was one of Jon’s favorites – the really big ones that held almost half a bottle of wine each. 

By the time her bubbles had dissolved and the water went tepid, she had come to share his appreciation with the oversized stemware.  In fact, she appreciated it so much that she took a second glass to bed to ensure that she would either get the most fantastic night’s sleep ever, or pass out. 

She wasn’t opposed to either, but when her phone rang around eleven o’clock she was glad she hadn’t passed out.  Considering the late hour – and short of an unexpected family emergency – the caller had to be Jon, and she didn’t want to miss a minute of their time “together”.

“Hello, handsome.”

“Hi, baby.”  He sounded tired, but his voice still carried a smile and that, in turn, made her smile.  “How’s my girl tonight?”

“I am currently in awe of your wine vessel wisdom.”

“Is that code for ‘drunk off your ass’?” he asked on a quiet chuckle.  “Because only a drunk could make sense of that.” 

She scooted down into the bed, snuggling into the pillow.  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, how complicated is it?  I decided you’re right.  The big wine glasses are the best ones.”

“Ahhhh…  So you are drunk.  Looks like I have some catchin’ up to do.”  A noisy slurp rattled over the line, followed by a quiet belch and a contented sigh. 

“You’re a pig,” she laughed, pathetically amused by his blatant “manliness”.

“Mebbe.  I know I wouldn’t mind porking you….”

“Oh my word, you’re awful!  Moving on…!   How was tonight’s show?  You’re in…. Omaha, right?”

“No, that was night before last.   We played Wichita tonight.”

“I get all those corn places mixed up,” she lightly admitted.  “Regardless, I’m sure you rocked ‘em all, right?”

“You know I did, baby.” As much as she hated to admit it, his arrogance was a teeny-tiny bit hot.  Or maybe she was just hot because of the wine’s influence.  She fanned her face as he hesitantly changed topics.  “So…  Paul showed me the magazines.  You doin’ okay?”

Oh, honey.  Can we talk about anything other than those damn magazines? 

But she wouldn’t voice the inward groan.  Any penance that was due, he’d already paid, so she didn’t feel the need to heap anymore fuel onto a fire that she wished were extinguished.  It was nothing he didn’t go through every day, after all.

Well, except for that whole “open to a threesome thing” with James.

She was momentarily tempted by the devil on her shoulder to replay that whole scenario for him.  If nothing else, the sheer entertainment value would amuse her to no end, but seeing as he’d had a long day already, she passed.

“I’m fine.”

“What about your family?”

No, actually they’re giving you shit.  They don’t think I can think my way out of a wet paper bag.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He emitted a drawn-out sound of skepticism.  “Not crazy ‘bout the sound of that, sweetheart.  They givin’ you a hard time?”

“It’s fine, Jon,” she sighed, reaching for her wineglass and sipping.  “Everybody is just a little hyper this week with all the last minute wedding preparations.  After that, things will settle down and get back to normal.”   

Jon scowled at the television screen, blind to whatever national news CNN was running at the moment.  He knew they’d handled the situation in the best possible manner.  The “good” press was out there in abundance, but it didn’t erase the “bad” press in the public’s eye, much less her family’s.  He was sure they were doing everything they could to convince her to dump his ass because of the questionable behavior that had gone viral. 

And he was leaving her to deal with it on her own. 

He scowled more deeply.  It seemed like he should be defending himself, or at least defending her decision to be with him.  He wasn’t a social fucktard who was going to get caught whacking off in a porn movie theatre.  Or pay for a whore.  Or…  well, anything that related to sex without relating to Rachel.  

He was a decent guy.

Then do the decent thing.

Jesus, he hated weddings. 

But the truth was that, by air, he was only a few hours away.  There was no show the next night and he could leave right after the wedding on Saturday with enough time to make it back to North Dakota and sound check. 

This embarrassment was caused by him and while he didn’t much care what anybody thought, including Rachel’s family, he also didn’t want her to have to face her entire circle of family and friends with this hanging in the air.   If he was going to prove to her – and everyone else – that she was THE priority in his life…  It was time to put his money where his mouth was.