45 - Take My Word For It

David plunked his ass down on the bland sofa in his suite at the Omni and hunched over the iPad that was on the coffee table.  There was no little red number by the email icon, but he tapped it anyway.  After a hundred times, what was one more?    

Nothing. 

“I’ve been patient enough,” he muttered to himself, picking up the phone that lay next to its big brother on the table.

He had wanted to be the one to send Cassidy’s tracks to Jon last night.  He had wanted it badly enough to invest a good thirty minutes into bribing Obie for the privilege.  The final tally had been a bottle of really old Scotch, two weeks at his place on the beach and Yankees box seats for opening day, but David had come out triumphant.

All because he wanted to get Jon’s gut reaction from the horse’s mouth, as it were.  Annnnddd... the fucking horse hadn’t even belched.

Punching up his friend’s number, he grumbled to himself about lack of return on investments and impatiently waited for an answer to his call. 

“Where the hell are you?” David demanded by way of a greeting.  With his nose out of joint, he wasn’t feeling couth enough for social graces. 

“On my way to the Omni,” Jon replied calmly, irksomely unruffled by David’s ruffled-ness.  “What's it to you?”

Blonde curls swung with annoyance when he shook his head and again tapped the screen of the iPad he remained hunched over.  “Because I still don’t have a response to the email with Cassidy’s singles from last night.  Why is that?  Did you forget to listen to the damn things like last time?  Your negligence is depriving me of a great deal of satisfaction here, you selfish asswipe.”

Why it mattered that the Bon Jovi front man swallowed his tongue over the sexiest-ever delivery of one of his songs, David couldn’t say.  He was easily bored and just as easily amused.  Knowing that Cassidy had Jon drooling on himself constituted amusement.

“I listened to ‘em.  Where are you?”

Temporarily sidetracked from his mission, David glanced around the room that could very well be the same one he stayed in last time.  They all looked the same and had a disturbing lack of individuality.  One of these days, he was going to open a hotel that real travelers appreciated.  A little skull décor, a baby grand, cupcakes – things to make a guy feel at home.

He made a mental note to pitch the idea to Lexi.  His wife had a flair for fashion, and this might be a fun new hobby.

“I'm at the Omni.  Lexi is… somewhere I can’t remember, so I decided to hang out with the locals today.  I may find a honky tonk and treat them to some Chopin.”

Stirring things up was David’s shtick.  He figured life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t keep it a little interesting for those around you and, after a while, he’d even learned to spot the line between “interesting” and “requires police intervention”.  That was a valuable life lesson.

“Find a keyboard and meet me at four.  I could use your help with something.”

David checked his watch and found that it was already three-thirty.  “How in the hell do you expect me to get keys that fast?”

“Don’t know or care,” his friend informed him apathetically.  “You’ll figure it out.”

He should refuse, but he liked to prove himself able to meet any challenge.  Another one of those “interesting” things that kept him out of handcuffs – the ones he didn’t volunteer to snap on for fun, anyway. 

“Tell me what you thought of ‘In These Arms’ and I’ll consider it.”  He had to get something for this circus-worthy hoop-jumping routine he was about to perform.

“I haven’t even told her that.  No.”

Jon was zero fun.  Every time David thought he was going to get a rise out of the guy, he pooped on the parade by pulling the fuddy duddy card. 

It was a little strange that he hadn’t talked to Cassidy about it, though. The text messages she sent earlier had sounded like they were coming directly from Jon, so David assumed they were in the same vicinity.  Were his Spidey-senses in need of a tune-up?

“Well at least tell me why you’re still in Nashville.”

“Mechanical difficulties - and a beautiful inspiration.”

David snorted at the subtlety of “beautiful inspiration”.  Yeah.  His friend was with Cassidy, but JBJ was nothing if not subtle.

In fact, if David hadn’t already known they had something going on behind the scenes, he would have never guessed it from Jon and Cassidy’s interaction at the studio.  Cassidy might have allowed a look to linger too long once or twice, but David was the only one who caught it.  Jon, however, was the consummate professional.  He fucked up the whole session, but he kept it all business while he did.  When he left for “Jersey”, Dave would’ve sworn he was actually going to Jersey.

The little Dixie redhead had evidently presented him with a more enticing alternative.  She must be something else to hold that kind of sway over Jon, who didn’t listen to anybody once he’d made up his mind about something.

Exactly why he’s involved with her at all.  His mind is made up.  It doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks, including his wife.

Weird relationship there in the last decade or so, anyway.  There was no hatred simmering between the two that David had detected.  Apathetic, perhaps?  They still seemed to like one another even if there was an affectionate distance between them that they didn’t care to bridge.  From his perspective, their marriage had likely burned out to nothing more than habit and they were too lazy - or stubborn - to admit it and move on.

“I assume that inspiration has curves to make a man weep?”

As if he didn’t know.

“Maybe.” 

“And is she with you now?”

“Yeah.”  Damned if David couldn’t hear the smile in that single word. 

Fascinating. 

Jon was fucking smitten as a kitten.  Attracted like a magnet.  Enticed as head lice.  Okay, maybe not that last one, but David hadn’t seen him legitimately attracted in anything beyond a woman’s lips in years.  Years and years.

“You have a real thing for her don’t you?”

 “Yes.”

Fully expecting denial or sarcastic avoidance, David was floored by the immediate reply – and the honesty.  It instantly brought to mind a colorful phrase he’d heard at the local Starbucks this morning.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit. 

It was fucked up to be happy about his friend having a mistress – ahem, “muse” – and he struggled with the notion for a moment before deciding it wasn’t the first sign of being fucked up that he’d ever shown.  Cassidy was a likable girl, and Jon seemed to have found a much-needed connection in her.  As long as somebody didn't fall in love and get their heart broken  - which they had assured him would not happen - Dave considered his happiness justifiable.   

“Well, since you’re not coughing up any song feedback, I’ll be using the lovely redhead to satisfy my needs.  Pass that along, will ya?  Give her something to look forward to.”

The intentionally suggestive innuendo was tossed out as a last ditch effort.  David needed to have his sick sense of humor sated in some way and if he had to hint at doing the deed with Cassidy, so be it. 

Jon’s response shouldn’t be long coming.  David would give it three, two, one…

“Fuck.  You.”

God, I love his predictability.  Now let’s just see how much of his ass he’s willing to show.

“That’s what I was indirectly hinting at, yes,” he drawled lazily, kicking back on the sofa and crossing his legs to await the fireworks.  “Her, of course.  Not you.”

The background noise that accompanied the call disappeared, and he was left with nothing but dead air and an evil grin.  Jon had hung up on him.

“Veddy, veddy interesting indeed.”

Now to decide if he was going to continue his game when they arrived.  Should he be well-behaved and- 

He laughed abruptly, unable to even finish the thought with a straight face. 

Back to reality now.

Should he flirt with her, grab her ass, or slip her the tongue?   Decisions, decisions…

###

Jon pushed the bottom button through its corresponding hole and reached to roll up his sleeves.  This was the best part about being a guy.  He could trade his t-shirt for a white button-down, keep the same jeans he’d been wearing all day, and he was ready for dinner. 

Women were a bit more complicated. 

He wasn’t complaining.  Cassidy didn’t take a ridiculous amount of time to look beautiful and put together, but it was more than two minutes.  That made it a pain in the ass from his perspective.

To pass the time while she finished whatever she was doing in the bathroom, Jon went to sit in the living room and flip open his Mac.  He wanted to take another listen to the keyboard part David had composed. 

The lyrics weren’t finalized for “I’m Your Man”, but they were reasonably complete.  Enough so that he’d come up with the melody on the guitar, but he’d wanted the fuller sound a keyboard would add and had recruited David to help fill in the blanks.

They’d spent the time Cassidy was out shopping for “something to wear” doing just that - after Jon had had ripped his friend a new ass for welcoming Cassidy with a prolonged kiss on the lips.  Cassidy hadn’t thought anything of it, pushing David away with a laugh, but Jon got pissed. 

“Keep your fucking lips to yourself,” Jon growled as soon as Cassidy was out of the room.  “Yank my chain some other way if you need to get your jollies, but leave her out of it.”

David crossed his arms and offered a superior smile.  “My enjoyment comes from the dazzling shade of green jealousy that paints you.”

“I’m not jealous of your sorry ass.  You annoy the shit out of me by acting like a damn high school kid.”

The superior smile didn’t waver in the slightest.  “And I have since about 1982.  The challenge is finding new and creative ways to do it.  Kissing your girlfriend isn’t new or creative, but I haven’t used it for a couple of decades so it seems fresh.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Then what is she?”

That had given Jon pause.  Hadn’t he just decided that there were no labels?  That she was just Cassidy?

“She’s Cassidy, whom you keep your goddamn lips off.  Period.”

“Sorry,” the woman in his thoughts interrupted the replay.  “I hope you haven’t been waitin’ long.”

His eyes raked the length of her.  It didn’t matter how long he had to wait when she came out looking this good. 

Jon knew she had breasts.  He had spent copious amounts of naked time with them, in fact, but the key word here was "naked".  When Cassidy was dressed, she wore her Levi’s and heels with t-shirts that completely covered those particular assets. 

Until now.

Indigo Levi’s and strappy black heels covered the bottom half of her body, and it was pretty standard issue for Cassidy.  Her hips were lovingly hugged by denim and her feet looked sexy with normally unadorned toenails now painted pale shade of pink.   The blouse, however, was something a little different.

The electric blue top wasn’t form fitting, nor did it hug her figure at all.  The sleeves fell almost to the middle of her forearm except for the narrow section pulled back by a button tab.  All of that was just as modest as her t-shirts.  It was the plunging zippered neckline that caught his awareness.   The silver zipper tab that dangled at the point of the V-neck commanded attention to the impressive display of femininity that was her cleavage and Jon was enamored with the subtle sexuality.

“That shirt looks amazing on you,” he admired when he could finally lift his eyes. 

“You like it?”  Her frown was fleeting as she glanced down at herself.  “I thought the color was good with the red hair and blue eyes.”

Now that his gaze had been forced away from the bounty of breast, he could see that her eyes did look bluer than usual.  Big deal.

“Your eyes aren’t what I noticed,” he drawled as he rose.  Jon took two slow steps to stand in front of her and trail a finger along the edge of the voluptuous valley.  “This is the real attention grabber.”

Her laugh made him happy.  “Oh, honey.  It’s not my shirt you like, it’s the new push-up bra.”

“Okay,” he readily agreed, inclining his head to kiss her.  “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You know what you really oughta take my word for?”  Cassidy’s smile was soft and affectionate as she finger-combed the hair he’d forgotten to brush.  “A white button-down shirt is your very best friend.  Wear it often.”