27 - It's Damn Good to See You

“Who were you on the phone with so for long?” David’s wife, Lexi, inquired when he finally turned back the covers to join her in bed. 

He crawled in beside her, settling himself on his left side while pondering that question.

Who had he been on the phone with?  That was an interesting story. First there was Jon, which wasn’t so much an interesting story as it was flat out interesting.   He’d called just to shoot the breeze. 

Really? 

That never happened.  There was always a reason and it was usually clearly stated within the first five seconds of the conversation.  His friend had a motive and the fact that he wasn’t forthcoming with it was much more revealing than anything he’d said, in David’s humble psychological opinion.   It was significant even without Jon relaying anything of significance.    

Other than telling David to call Cassidy.   

“Jon at first.  Then Obie’s… whatever the hell she is.  Protégé?  Latest project?  We’ll just call her Cassidy to keep things simple.”

David inched his foot forward until he found Lexi’s under the covers, at which point he lazily rubbed up and down her calf.

“Is that the woman you went to Nashville to see?”

“Yeah, that’s her.”

He scooted closer so that he could place an open palm over the plane of his wife's stomach.  She hadn’t nudged him away so far.  Maybe he was about to get lucky. 

“What were you talking to her about this late at night?”

Some of this, some of that.  David had spent a small slice of the conversation doing as Jon had done with him – shooting the breeze.  Why?  Because Jon seemed to believe that, if he would, he’d understand the fascination with “Dixie”. 

Dave wouldn’t necessarily go that far.  The girl was hot, beyond a doubt.  She also seemed sweet, thoughtful, smart and sassy as hell.  None of those were bad qualities, but they weren’t grabbing Dave the same way they did Jon. 

Then there was that other thing.  The slightly weird thing.

“She’s trying to locate somebody her deceased grandmother knew.  Thought I might be able to point her in a direction she hadn’t looked yet.”

“Why?”  Lexi’s lovely features distorted into the same confusion Dave had experienced himself. 

“Because Jon said so” was the reason he’d gotten after presenting that question, which was okay.  Hell, he didn’t mind helping a lovely damsel in distress at any time.  She didn’t even have to be his friend’s “muse”.  He might even go so far as to say he thrived on the white knight thing, particularly when it didn’t require him to break a sweat or a nail. 

This was the interesting part of the story, though. 

Cassidy didn’t want to give up the name of whoever she was looking for so that Dave could check things out a little.  That was, supposedly, because she didn’t want him doing the heavy lifting when it was for her benefit, or some such similar fabrication. 

Seemed a little sketchy to him, but he wasn’t going to browbeat the girl for a name.  He made sure she knew to check property records, white pages, those people search sites and social media.  Beyond that, he was just as dumb as the next guy about stalking. 

He could maybe hook her up with some Bon Jovi fans.... 

“Because I’m a genius, baby.” 

David’s hand crept slowly northward from the plane of her stomach and, when she didn’t smack him for grabbing her boob, he knew he was about to get laid.  Jon and his muse were interesting, but not interesting enough to bypass a sweaty bump and grind. 

Good luck, kiddies.  You’re on your own. 

###

The Town Car slid to a stop in front of the Nashville Omni, and it was one of the few times since the eighties that Jon was glad to see a hotel. 

He had actually resisted calling Cassidy.  Instead, he'd called David when video games with the boys had done nothing but make him feel like a loser.  It hadn’t been intended as a therapy session, but it had been therapeutic just the same.  Amazing how a few minutes of shooting the shit proved to be enough of a distraction that he was able to clean up “Burning Bridges”, the "kiss my ass" song that he had assigned the designation of title track, and “Life is Beautiful”.  Both were now ready to have something besides guitar added to the arrangement and he would recruit help with that later. 

During the course of the conversation with his friend, Jon had also mentioned Cassidy’s missing person search for her grandmother’s acquaintance.  He found out that David hadn’t heard anything from her, so Jon passed along her phone number, requesting that Dave give her a call.  Whether that happened or not he wasn’t sure, seeing as he hadn’t talked to either one of them since.

So maybe that translated to indirect contact with her, but he hadn’t succumbed to the desire to hear her voice. 

Instead he’d found himself lying in bed, unable to sleep, and devising a way to make her a more regular fixture in his life.  There hadn’t been any groundbreaking revelations there, only the standard stereotypical mistress set-up – rent her an apartment and come to Nashville when he could get away. 

Ideal, it was not.  Realistic either, for that matter.  Best-case scenario had him in town a couple of days a month.  That wasn’t exactly regular and recurring contact -  not like he was starting believe he needed.

The Cliff Notes of all that found Jon a little stressed, a little horny and mildly dependent on a Southern ball of sunshine.

His Cassidy itch was in definite need of scratching. 

To that end, he scooped up his duffel, snagged his guitar and eased out of the car with an absent thanks for the driver.  The narrow expanse of sidewalk and cavernous lobby were covered in quick order with purposeful strides, as Jon was now a man on a mission, and his first stop was to acquire another room key.  Cassidy had the original and he didn’t want to knock on his own room door. 

The concierge desk was up next, and he was hopeful that they had good news for him.  The remaining steps required to reach the young man on duty were executed quickly and efficiently and Jon stepped impatiently up to the desk.  

“Good day sir, how may I be of assistance?” the concierge named Chad greeted with a phony smile before regarding Jon like a curious cocker spaniel.  Jon didn’t mind cocker spaniels.  They followed commands well. 

“I’m expecting a package.  Francis, room 1902.” 

It was many years ago when he’d given up on his real name when traveling for pleasure.  It was so much easier to be John Francis in these types of situations.  That way nobody saw his distinctive last name on the reservation list and planned a lobby campout for the day of his arrival.  Yes, it had happened.  More times than he could accurately recall.

“Just a moment, I be-lieeeve…“ Chad’s head disappeared briefly beneath the counter before popping immediately back up again with a satisfied smirk.  “Ah, yes.  Here it is.”

The cheery looking box came to rest on the desk and Jon smiled.  He couldn’t have imagined it more perfectly wrapped and adorned and, if the contents were as good as the exterior, the saleslady in Philly would be getting a nice thank you for arranging this flawless Nashville delivery.

“Now, Mr. Francis…” Chad reached for a logbook of some kind and pushed it toward Jon.  “If I could just get you to sign by the ‘X’ for confirmation of receipt.”

Jon picked up the offered pen, saying, “Sure, but I don’t want to take it with me right now.  Could you have somebody deliver it to my room at…”  He flipped his watch around to find that the current time was twelve-thirty.  “…about two o’clock?  And I need a piece of paper and an envelope to include a note.”

His signature was hastily scrawled on the logbook and Chad magically produced the paper and envelope.

Jon hesitated for just a moment after receiving it.  Coming up with the right words to use was a more difficult task than it should have been.  Then again, what writing task wasn't?  Maybe if he’d already scratched the Cassidy itch he wouldn’t have to be quite so conscientious about conveying casual sincerity.  As it was, he struggled to find the right balance.

Whether the words he chose fit that criteria or not, they were scrawled more carefully than his signature had been.  She should be able to read the damn thing, anyway, and the mission was accomplished to the best of his ability.  The paper was folded and stuffed inside the envelope, and Jon sealed it it before penning “Cassidy Starr” on the outside.    

There was another casual thanks and corresponding gratuity for Chad before Jon was – finally – in the elevator.  Bouncing restlessly on the balls of his feet, he watched the display with anticipation as the car inched toward the nineteenth floor and Cassidy. 

I should’ve sent a text when I landed.  She might not even be there.

Yes, she would.  Anything else was unacceptable and Jon had put her on such a pedestal that unacceptable couldn’t touch her.  Not only would she be there, her face would light up with a big friggin’ sunshine-filled smile when he walked through the damn door. 

###

Cassidy sang softly along to YouTube, as she had been for much of the morning, dutifully working her way through the “short list” of Bon Jovi songs that Jon had supplied.  They were going into the studio tomorrow and she didn’t want to disappoint him – or Obie – due to lack of preparation. 

Right now, she was experimenting with “I’ll Be There For You”.  Richie Sambora’s harmony had established the song’s very identity, and she wasn’t sure whether to simply mirror it or try something different.  It would be Jon’s decision in the end, but she felt like she ought to have more than one option rehearsed to be on the safe side.

And speaking of Jon…

The soft electronic purr of a disengaging door lock brought a wide grin to Cassidy's face. It also had her tummy fluttering just a little, but she was going to chalk that up to not eating anything with her morning coffee. 

And you’re a natural redhead, too. 

Okay, so maybe she and her hoo-ha were kind of excited to see him again.  What woman in her right mind wouldn’t be? 

She pressed her thumb to the YouTube pause button, glancing up to the door just as he stepped through it and the sight had her subtly sucking air.  Lord have mercy the man wore wear jeans and a black t-shirt better than most men wore a tuxedo and, when he added a black leather jacket, lopsided smirk, and twinkly blue eyes…?  

Oh sweet baby Jesus.

How could she have forgotten how handsome he was? 

“Cassidy.” 

The greeting was simple and direct, giving her no idea as to how she should proceed.  Her first instinct was to bound from the sofa cushion, throw her arms around him and plant a luscious kiss that never ended.  Did she want to divulge that much eagerness?  Wasn’t this supposed to be casual?

“Well, look who’s back in Music City,” she drawled with a smile, choosing to keep her seat as he casually tossed his bag through the bedroom door and propped his guitar against the wall.   "How’s it goin’, good lookin’?”

In her yoga pants, tank and ponytail, Cassidy felt atypically dowdy and wished she hadn’t returned from the hotel gym and immediately lost herself in the music.  She should have showered, fixed her hair, applied makeup and dressed in something more appealing than workout clothes.

Nothin' to be done about it now.

“If anybody’s lookin’ good here, it sure as hell ain’t the old gray-headed guy,” was his wry response from the other side of the coffee table with hands pushed into his jacket pockets.  “You gonna get off that fine ass to give me a welcome back kiss or what?”

Cassidy’s phone tumbled to the couch cushions as she expelled a quiet sigh of relief and pushed to her feet.  She was no longer bound by her self-imposed limitations and it turned out that his expectations perfectly aligned with her instincts.  Life was beautiful.  

“Just waitin’ for you to tell me what you want, honey."

She had barely glided one step around the table's edge when he reached to draw her close and curve determined hands over her backside.  His grip on the plumpness was used to propel her hips forward and the hard outline of his belt buckle burrowed into the comparable softness of her belly with a delicious naughtiness that sent her head toppling backward.  

"Safe bet to assume I want you.”

His mouth fell to hers for a soft caress that quickly blossomed into more when the tip of his tongue licked along the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open for him.  Granted the access that he desired, Jon slipped inside to stake his claim. 

Someone groaned.  His arms came up higher to cinch her tight, and she pushed greedy hands beneath the leather jacket to roam his back.  She covetously sought to infuse herself with the heat of his sculpted body, hoping like hell she could hoard it away to warm the cold nights after he was gone for good.

Don’t be maudlin.

His kiss demanded attention and Cassidy mentally stepped from the maudlin cliff to freefall into it and him.  They may have been there for an eternity trying to absorb one another through every touch of every pore, or maybe it was only a few seconds.  Time became meaningless from the moment he walked through that door until the kiss came to a reluctantly clinging end.

Lazy eyelashes fluttered open when his lips deserted her, and Cassidy detected blue eyes studying her.  Denim blue eyes appeared a deeper shade than their usual tint and were awash with something undefinable, yet so very appealing.

Almost as appealing as his husky admission.

“It’s damn good to see you, Dixie.”