24 - Rainbows and Other Cryptic Signs

Jon was gone. 

He’d left about an hour ago.

Cassidy didn’t know precisely what she had expected from him in the way of goodbye, but it was something along the lines of a casual wave and “see ya later”.  She should give up on having expectations, since this was yet another occasion where she’d been wrong.

Once his duffel had been packed, he’d emerged from the bedroom and dropped it to the floor beside one of the chairs.  Cassidy had risen from her spot on the couch, figuring that she could at least walk him to the door.  It was a simple, polite and friendly gesture and shouldn’t carry a hint of undue attachment.  The perfect casual goodbye to your married lover.

Jon’s plans had been a little different, though. 

As soon as her pink high heels had skirted the coffee table and headed toward the door, he had hooked a finger through one of her belt loops and tugged Cassidy close.  For the longest time after that he hadn’t said anything.  He’d linked his arms around her waist and perused her carefully, like he’d been memorizing her features.

It had given her time to do the same.

He hadn’t looked as good as he did the day before.  Yesterday his happiness and relaxation had been very much evident, even creeping their way into bed with them that night.  He had been more playful than usual, with a lot of tickling and the occasional outlandish lyric to go with his silly song.  He’d even composed a dirty limerick for her. 

There once was a girl from the sticks

And bartending was her paid shtick

Then she sang me a song

And it wasn't very long

'Til I had her riding my dick

Jon Bon Jovi couldn’t look bad, but he hadn’t been up to dirty limerick standards this morning.

“If you need anything, bill it to the room and sign my name,” he’d instructed when he was finished studying her face.

She never would, but she had acquiesced anyway, just to be agreeable.  Satisfied with that, he’d dipped his head and taken her mouth in an uncharacteristically sweet kiss – tender, soft and without hunger.  Cassidy’s astonishment at the gentle contact had stolen more breath from her than his kisses usually did and, while she was still slightly dazed, he’d dusted his fingertips over her cheek and said, “I’ll see you Monday.”

Then he’d snagged his duffel and guitar to make a direct line for the door.  Jon didn't look back but, if he had, it would've been to find an ever-so-slightly dumbfounded Cassidy floundering in his wake.

It had taken her a solid five minutes to stop looking for deeper meaning in his departure and remember that she was a muse.  He thought she helped him write music.  Nothing more, nothing less.  Well, other than the phenomenal sex.  No emotions were involved in the making of this muse-dom.

Since that time, she had changed her clothes to trade jeans and a t-shirt for dark slacks and an emerald green blouse that she thought suited her hair.  She then stepped into the most sedate black heels she owned, which were still four-inches high but completely without adornment.  Her makeup was well-applied, but subdued, and her hair was pulled into a sleek bun at the nape of her neck.  The tendrils that wanted to escape were doused with enough hairspray to Turtle Wax her Jeep.

Satisfied that she looked like a respectable member of society, Cassidy slipped her purse over her shoulder and exited the suite that would be “hers” for the next couple of days.   She’d just pushed the button for the elevator when her phone chimed with a message. 

Prob’ly Libby checkin’ in to see if I’m on the Beauregard hunt yet.

The elevator arrived and Cassidy stepped inside, pushing the button for the ground floor before she extracted the phone from her purse.

It wasn’t Libby; it was Jon. 

[9:58 AM]JON: Flying over WVA & thought of you

She couldn’t help but smile and immediately wondered if he’d found himself humming “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” after seeing the miracle of nature.

[10:00 AM]CASSIDY: Did it make you think of the song?

[10:01 AM]JON:  Yes.  You were singing it.

Her smile slipped into a huge grin.  That song was practically Judy Garland’s signature song and, yet, Jon didn’t think of Judy Garland singing it?  He thought of her?  How daggone crazy was that?

Of course, she would never gush like that to him.  Her response was much more subdued.

[10:03 AM]CASSIDY: Thanks for sharing.  Enjoy your weekend.

[10:04 AM]JON: Wait. When’s your bday?

What an odd question. 

[10:05 AM]CASSIDY:  Aug 15.  When’s yours?

Although that was probably information she could find online, Cassidy figured if he was asking for hers, then she ought to reciprocate.  Besides, it would be more like a friendly exchange of information that way and she wouldn’t have to feel like a stalker.

[10:06 AM]JON: Google it ;)

###

Cassidy had been to five different law firms in the last two hours, all with the same result.  No one at the firms of Frost, Brown, Todd, Butler, Snow, Bass, Berry, Sims, Wingo, or Edge had ever heard of Beauregard Beasley.  The only upside to all the disappointing news was that they were in the same building.  Her feet didn’t hurt yet, so she had plenty of energy and shoe leather left to work her way through the other hundred lawyers in Nashville.

She was turning to walk up Third Avenue when she collided with someone who had exited the building behind her and was trying to pass by

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Strong hands held her upright when her heels teetered on the pavement.  “Cassidy?”

Once she was steady, she took a look up into the face of the man she’d almost plowed into.  “Clay!  How in the world are ya, honey?”

“I’m good,” he assured her with a smile, pushing hands into the pockets of his Dockers.  “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Oh, yeah.”  Cassidy waved a hand down her front with a laugh.  “Not my normal beer slingin’ getup.”

Remembering that she’d never asked Jon about his meeting with Clay, she figured she would approach the subject from the other side. 

“So did you ever get ahold of Jon?’

His pleasant demeanor clouded a bit.  “Yeah, I did.  Things didn’t quite work out the way I’d hoped, but there might be better news on the horizon."

“Oh yeah?”  Maybe that explained part of Jon’s abysmal mood the other day.  “I’m sorry to hear.”

“Yeah, me too.  With any luck, he’ll leave Nashville a little happier next time. Listen, I’ve got to run.”  He patted her lightly on the shoulder with a smile.  “Good seein’ you.”

“You too, honey.  Take care!”

With nothing more than that, he went on his way and she went on hers, but Cassidy was left with a lingering curiosity.  Enough so, that she made another mental note to ask Jon about it – if the proper opening presented itself, of course.

###

Back in New Jersey, Jon entered his home through the family entrance at the side of the house.  It was easier to go through the kitchen and up the back stairs rather than traipsing through the entire house to get to the bedroom.

 There were very few times that he walked through the door here and didn’t feel a significant sense of pride.  This was his.  He’d bought the land.  The house and accompanying structures had been built to his specifications.  It was his hard work that had paid for it and continued to pay for it, which was why the ability to write songs was critical.

Thank you again, Cassidy.

Stepping into the master suite, Jon fell into his usual arrival pattern.  Shaving kit put aside to go in the bathroom while dirty socks, gym clothes and t-shirts fell out of the bag and into the laundry.  He was putting the empty duffel on the shelf when he realized his three-day-old jeans should probably go in the hamper, too, so he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt to make that happen.  They got tossed in along with the socks and shirt he was wearing.

That left him stark naked and in need of something to wear.  He was just turning to find a pair of shorts or track pants when Dorothea’s voice found him.  

“It’s been a long time since you jumped out of your clothes as soon as you hit the door,” she observed with amusement from the doorway of their walk-in closet. 

“Hey.”  He gave her an absent grin and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.  A rapid perusal told him that she was a little more dressed up than usual, seemingly in preparation for the trip with her sisters – or whomever.  “You look nice.”

“Thanks.”  She glanced down at her dark jeans, flowy black blouse and boots, seeming pleased by the compliment.  “I noticed you avoided commenting on the clothes thing.”

Jon frowned.  That had been something he was supposed to comment on?  Yeah, it had been a good while since he’d stripped his way toward the bedroom after a trip, anxious to get in her pants.  About as long as it had been since she’d been waiting on the bed in fancy lingerie.  Was there really a need to point it out? 

“I didn’t avoid it, I just didn’t think you were serious.”  The elastic of the sweatpants settled at his waist and the t-shirt slithered down his torso.  “You really wanna fuck me?  ‘Cause I figured that’s what this Poconos trip was all about.”

He didn’t mean to say it.  Honest to God he didn’t, but it just came casually rolling out of his mouth like some inane commentary on the weather.  She didn’t deserve that.  Hell, they might not have a “normal” marriage anymore, but he still respected her.  He even loved her in some sense of the word, and he’d be surprised if she wasn’t on the verge of smacking the piss out of him.

“I don’t know where the hell that came from, but I never should have said it,” he was quick to apologize.  “I’m sorry, Dorothea.”

 Then again, maybe she wouldn’t smack him.  She appeared to be exceptionally unruffled about the foot in his mouth, as a matter of fact.  Her eyes were clear, her features relaxed.  She was just… Dorothea.

“No need to be sorry,” she offered with a smile, uncrossing the arms that had been folded at her waist.   “I’ve wondered about your trips for a lot of years, and it gives me a warped kind of amusement to see the shoe on the other foot.  It’s just too bad, now that the opportunity has presented itself, that I don’t have the time to discuss it.”

“Wait a minute.”  Jon followed after her when she moved from the closet doorway into the bedroom proper.  Could his pipedream of having their marriage openly inclusive of extracurricular activities possibly come to fruition?  Because he’d really like to discuss that right now.  “You don’t have five minutes to talk about this?”

“No, I really don’t,” she confirmed as she retrieved her overnight bag from the bed and settled it onto her shoulder.  “Don’t forget there’s lacrosse practice for the boys after school, but you don’t have to pick them up.  They have a ride and should be home by five.”

Since he was an obstacle between her and the door, she ultimately wound up standing before him.  “Nashville agrees with you, by the way.”  Dorothea went on tip-toe to press a light kiss to his cheek.  “Hopefully when I get back from my trip, I’ll look as good as you do.”

What?  Wait.  Does that have some hidden meaning?

Maybe it did, maybe it didn’t.  He might never be sure, because she waltzed around him and out the door with only a handful of casual words that had nothing to do with Nashville or hidden meanings. 

“I’ll be home Sunday evening.  Maybe we can talk then.”