46 - Playing the Part

Merchants was housed in an 1870’s three-story brick building that was little more than two blocks away from the Omni Hotel, so she and Jon opted to walk the short distance past the Country Music Hall of Fame and Bridgestone Arena.  He reflected fondly on the arena, saying it was one of his favorites, but that he’d never quite managed to sell it out.  Next time, he vowed, he would break the attendance record.

With that declaration, Cassidy smiled at the man in the lightweight jacket, black cap and sunglasses.  A fire and determination burned in his eyes sometimes and it irrationally pleased her.  Yes, he’d already achieved more than some people could manage in three lifetimes, but it was nice to see the spark in place of the gray cloak of crud.

Arriving at the side entrance of the building, Jon gestured for her to precede him through the revolving door made of a dark wood.  It glided easily under her touch, and ultimately deposited her into a foyer.  There, she found the pattern of the black and white chevron tiled floor was echoed on the elevator doors positioned to one side of the hostess stand.   

Cassidy had never been to Merchants’ first-floor bistro but she'd heard that, when you passed under the black awning over the front door, the interior had the same stark color scheme as this.  The overall feel of the bistro was supposed to be that of an old-time soda shoppe, and even the fully stocked bar supposedly didn’t deter from that. 

Being a Georgia girl up until a few weeks ago, she had also never been to the second-floor restaurant that was only open for dinner.  However, she had taken a glance at their menu on her phone and it was enough to make her look forward to the experience.

“Welcome to Merchants,” the hostess greeted Jon while Cassidy hung back.  “Do you have a reservation?”

“We’re meeting Clay Adams.”

A French-manicured fingertip slid down the reservation book and the young woman’s head popped back up with a smile.  “Mr. Adams has already arrived.  This elevator will take you up to the dining room or, if you prefer, you may use the stairs.”

The grand staircase that the girl gestured toward was made of the same dark wood as the revolving door.  It was a steep climb up to the landing, where the staircase turned at a ninety-degree angle to continue through the ceiling.  The glossy wood made a striking combination with the red brick wall behind it, and Cassidy thought both were nicely maintained – or restored.

Without asking her preference, Jon hit the call button for the elevator.  The chevron-adorned doors slid immediately apart and, once inside, he extended an arm to ensure they stayed open for her to enter.

“Tonight, you and I are business associates that share a mutual acquaintance,” he drilled when the elevator had enclosed them in solitude and he punched their floor number.  “Don’t get offended when I behave accordingly.”

Cassidy looked straight ahead as an impish smile tried to escape even as she demurely folded her hands together and fought to quell it.  He was taking this very seriously and she should probably do the same, but she couldn’t keeping from thinking that this Boris and Natasha routine was funny.

“I understand.”

“Good.  Play your part and you’ll be well rewarded,” he murmured as heavy doors parted to reveal the dining room.

Well, if that don’t cause the most delicious shivers…

In the interest of “playing her part”, she didn’t verbalize that thought.  Cassidy merely nodded her thanks when he motioned for her to precede him onto the hardwood floor that was as glossy as the staircase.  It was a lighter wood than the dark walnut of the staircase, which was a good thing since the walls were a deep shade of blue that hovered near navy.  Dark wood and dark walls would’ve made the dining room feel like the Bat Cave.

“There’s Clay.”

Looking to the far end of the room, she saw the man in question stand and lift a hand in greeting.  He was in the far corner of the restaurant at a table beneath the window and partially obscured by a protruding section of wall that likely concealed a support beam.  It was so well tucked away that, if he hadn’t stood, she may not have noticed him. 

His smiling face may have drawn her attention, too, and she made a beeline for the handsome young man.  It was with her own bright smile that Cassidy stepped into his embrace for a friendly hug.

“Cassidy, I’ve missed seeing you at Tully’s.”

“I’ve missed bein’ seen,” she greeted and bussed his cheek with a quick kiss. “You’re lookin’ fine as frog hair.”

“And you’re pretty as a picture, like you always are.”

“Aww, honey, thank ya.  You tell your mama she raised you right.”

“Clay.  It’s nice to see you again.”  Jon had stepped up behind her and initiated a handshake.  “I’ll sit facing the window if that’s okay?”

He hadn’t told her anything of his intentions, but when Jon didn’t remove the hat and sunglasses until after seating himself partially behind the wall with his back to the dining room, she realized he was trying to be inconspicuous.  It seemed a bit alien to her, the need to keep yourself hidden.  That’s why this incognito thing she had going on was such a chore and why she’d come to a place far enough away from home that no one should recognize her.

Jon didn’t have that luxury and Cassidy wondered if it wore on him.

Pushing aside her sympathy for cordial impartiality, she asked Clay, “Can I cuddle up here in the corner beside you?”

The table had two chairs on either side and she had assumed it would be better if she didn’t sit beside Jon. 

Clay was pulling out the chair to seat her while Jon silently slipped out of his jacket.  They’d barely had the chance to settle themselves at the table when the waiter arrived with menus and collected drink orders – wine for Jon, a sorghum bitters Old Fashioned for Cassidy, and a beer for Clay. 

While perusing the dinner options, they exchanged the time of day and Clay politely asked about the work Cassidy and Jon were doing together.  She told him that Jon and his friend were allowing her to play diva and sing for them, and Jon joked that Obie was trying to get her in the band. 

The waiter came back for dinner orders and she requested the 1872 burger, named after the year the building was constructed, and a spring salad.  That got an inquiring look from Jon since she had been playing vegetarian every time they ate together, but she could splurge on red meat once in a while – and since it was the cheapest thing on the menu, now was the best possible time for that splurge.

Jon surprised her just as much when he chose the swordfish and asparagus.  As trim as he kept himself, she should’ve realized he wasn’t going to eat beef, but swordfish?  Clay was much more predictable in his choice of prime rib and Brussels sprouts. 

“Cassidy, I’ll beg your forgiveness in advance,” Clay turned to her and apologized.  “The conversation is about to turn dull for you.”

She smiled and fluttered a nonchalant hand.  “Y’all talk about whatever you want.  I’ll just sit here and sip my drink.”

In truth, she was glad to be here for this conversation.  Because the last time Jon met with Clay, it hadn’t gone well.  With her in attendance, at least she didn’t have to worry about brooding Jon making an unexpected appearance.  She would at least get a chance to prepare herself for it this time.

“First off, Jon, I’d really like to apologize again for the last time we met.  I truly didn’t foresee that happenin’.  None of us did.”

Jon shook his head with a frown and swirled the wine in his glass.  “Thank you, but what’s done is done and it wasn’t your fault.  I’ve put it behind me.”

“Well, I’m real happy to hear that,” Clay spoke with a relieved smile.  “Because I’m here to see if you’re still interested in the Titans.”

Jon’s eyes snapped up and locked onto Clay with the focus of a sniper.  His body went taut even as he tried to maintain an appearance of casualness, and she could almost feel the excitement humming through him.  This was his dream.  This was what he’d been waiting for. 

She had to force herself from fidgeting with second-hand excitement.

“What’s changed since last week?”

She admired his restraint.  There had to be the biggest part of him that wanted to make the assumptions that would land him in the Titans owner’s box, but he held himself in check.  Jon Bon Jovi was more than a pretty face and a set of vocal cords.  The man to whom she’d become attached was shrewd, too, and Cassidy found herself inexplicably proud.

Like you have somethin’ to do with it.

She didn’t.  She didn’t have even a little bit to do with it but, in a farfetched way, it reinforced the validity of her judgment.  There was more to this man than a well-honed sexual prowess.  He held admirable qualities that she had yet to uncover but, even with instinct as her only proof, Cassidy knew they were there.  

“To be frank, the NFL has.”  Clay shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “They’ve taken a sudden dislike to multiple ownership.  For some reason, they seem to find it preferable to hold a single person accountable for the team rather than divvying up that accountability.”

“And that’s what’s prompting this?”  Jon’s words and features were rife with skepticism.  “You might want to remember that I’ve met your family, so that makes me a bit cynical about the abrupt change of heart.”

Taking a sip of her drink, Cassidy allowed the sorghum bitters and whiskey to sit on her tongue while glancing toward Clay.  She was just in time to see brown eyes light with humor.

“That cynicism is well-deserved,” the younger man laughed.  “Things haven’t exactly been harmonious in my family durin’ the last week.  It has actually gotten quite ugly, and my mother and brother are ready to relieve themselves of the burden.” 

“As I understand it, they were okay with that before.  It was your aunt who pitched a bitch fit.”

“She did.”  Clay took a deep draw on his beer.  “And she’s still pitching a bitch fit, because she wants to be big dog on top of the pile.  My other aunt isn’t going to allow herself to be trumped and they’ve been heatedly battling for the title of sole owner since then.  It got so bad that Mom finally told them Grandpa would be ashamed of ‘em.  Long story short, they have decided the only compromise is to sell.

Cassidy’s pulse leapt and her eyes landed on Jon to find that it was becoming harder for him to keep a damper on his enthusiasm. 

“And they’re amenable to me as the buyer?”  His voice was doggedly casual, but he was coiled and ready to pounce at the first legitimate encouragement.

“Not at first.”  The corner of Clay’s mouth kicked up with amusement.  “Then they actually took the time to look into your background.  I understand they had a very enlightening conversation with Bob Kraft.”

“Sorry for interruptin’, but who is that?”  She wasn’t familiar with the name and was very interested in keeping up with the nuances of this conversation.

“Friend of mine,” Jon murmured, never taking his eyes from Clay.  “He owns the New England Patriots.”

That abbreviated explanation delivered a slap of reality, right in Cassidy’s face.

The man across the table wasn’t simply “Jon”, who struggled with work lately and searched for happiness.  She tended to forget that he was “Jon Bon Jovi”, who would naturally have a circle of friends with bank accounts or public statuses that were as prominent as his own were. 

And she was piss ant Georgia nurse, currently on the lam.  If she allowed it, Cassidy could easily feel inferior, but she reminded herself that he had as many problems as she did – his just didn’t happen to involve money.

She drained the rest of her drink and signaled for another as the waiter scooted past.

“A very good friend,” Clay clarified.  “Who has known Jon for many years and has just as many favorable things to say about his love of football and zeal for success – and him, in general.  My aunts were impressed enough to dispatch me as a carrier pigeon with a message.”

“And that is?”

Cassidy attentively waited for the answer to Jon’s quiet question.  It didn’t matter how far apart their ultimate destinations were on the map of life, their paths had converged for now and she cared about this man.   She wanted him to have his dream and, unless she was grossly mistaken, he was about to get it.

“The Adams family is pleased to offer you right of first refusal on the Titans.  If you want the team, it’s yours.”   

It was all she could do not to victoriously whoop and holler on Jon’s behalf, because he didn’t let his game face slip in the slightest.  He still disclosed nothing but intense concentration.

“Just like that?  No hidden loopholes?”

“As long as it’s a fair bid,” Clay confirmed, naming the price that would have Jon walking away from dinner with a football team.

The number was large enough to have Cassidy swallowing her tongue, but his steely gray head merely nodded.  Evidently, he didn’t find the figure unreasonable, but she gratefully accepted her fresh cocktail and subtly downed a third of it in one drink.

Holy shitake mushrooms, that’s a lot of money!

She didn’t let herself dwell on it beyond that.  He hadn’t changed.  His bank account hadn’t changed.  The only thing that had changed was her acute awareness of that bank account, and she pushed it aside.  All she wanted from Jon was his happiness, and he was…

Well, he didn’t look all that happy yet.   

“This is different than buying part of the team,” he told Clay somberly.  “If it’s going to be my team, then my accountant will review the books and confirm everything’s in order before I offer a bid.”

“Of course.  Give me the contact information and we’ll send the financials over tomorrow.”

Jon dipped his head in a sharp nod and proceeded to extend one hand across the table in an age-old gesture that had sealed an untold number of deals through the centuries.  Once Clay accepted the promissory handshake, Jon’s smile finally surfaced. 

“Pending the outcome, I’d say we have a deal.”

“How excitin’!” she declared, almost as giddy as if it were her team.  “I feel like I’ve been part of an historical event.  Thank you for allowin’ me to share in the moment, gentlemen.”

Lifting her glass to Jon with a subtle wink, Cassidy’s attention was caught by a man exiting the elevator and wearing the most atrocious Hawaiian shirt that she’d ever seen.  Vibrant pink, orange and red swirled together like a flamingo in a blender, making her just a bit queasy.  There was only one in her lifetime that she could recall being more hideous, she thought as her eyes drifted to the man’s face, and it belonged to…

Hell’s bells!  What’s he doin’ here?

Popping up out of her chair and almost knocking it over in the process, she stepped to Jon’s side of the table and pulled out the empty chair beside him.  Cassidy whirled around on the balls of her feet and dropped her backside down so that she was also facing Clay – with her back to the rest of the diners.

“I’m so very pleased for you,” she told Jon, leaning in to give him a one-armed hug and pretending that it was perfectly normal to do so.  “Maybe you’ll let me sing the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ at a game sometime?”

“Sure, why not?” was his slightly bemused agreement.

This was not how she was supposed to be playing her part.  Cassidy understood that as well as she understood the significance of the gold wedding band on his left hand, but some things demanded priority over the best-laid plans.

Keeping her face hidden from Cousin Gerald Ray demanded priority.