58 - Delusions & Revelations

David returned from the bathroom to drop his ass back into plane seat opposite Jon, who was so engrossed with his phone that he didn’t bother to look up.  They’d been in the air for about twenty very quiet minutes so far and the lack of conversation about a particular redhead was glaringly obvious.

“She miss you yet?”

Humorless blue eyes lifted from the iPhone screen to dart across the table separating the two men on the upscale charter plane. 

“I’m working.”

Well, bully for him.  David had worked all day to pull try and pull a Beasley rabbit out of the Tennessee Bar Association’s hat, to no avail and he was a little annoyed about it.  Accomplishing impossible feats was one of his arrogant calling cards and it irked the fuck out of him that he hadn’t been able to do it this time.  Patience was not one of his virtues. 

Which meant that the thirty-six hours he’d stifled his opinion on this Cassidy/Jon lovebird thing was a superhuman effort that offset his inability to oil the wheels of the Southern legal system.  And that goodbye scene when they left her to spend another night at the hotel while they went to the airport? When Jon hugged her long and hard, then whispered something in her ear that made her mouth smile and her eyes go sad…?

Yeah, Dave deserved a gold star for keeping his mouth shut for this long.

“So stop working,” he ordered casually, twisting the top from a bottle of water.  “And tell me what’s up with you and Dixie-chick.  No bullshit.”

His friend’s attention went back to the phone and a thumb swiped over the screen.  “You know what’s up.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Muse, yadda, yadda.” 

“Yeah, muse.  So why are you bugging me with this shit again?”

Dave wasn’t buying it anymore.  It might have been true in the beginning, but there was something else there – something of more significance.  Something that he wasn’t even sure that Jon realized the significance of.

“You gotta make everything like pulling motherfucking teeth, don’t you?” he sighed.  “I guess we’re going to have to jump through the same bullshit hoops again, so lemme tell you what I know and then you can try and tell me how wrong I am.”

The other man frowned with mild to moderate annoyance, but at least he put the phone down and looked at David.  “You’ve got three minutes.”

“Fine.”  Lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug, he informed his friend, “It won’t take half that long.  I’ve seen the two of you together.  You can’t keep your hands off Cassidy and it’s not foreplay, it’s an actual need for contact with her.  She’s trying like hell not to let herself be sucked in, but when you’re not paying attention, she looks at you with a sadness in her eyes, knowing it’s just a matter of time before her heart gets broken.”

“Nobody’s heart is getting fucking broken,” Jon snapped irritably. 

That wasn’t possible and the sad part was that his friend didn’t even see it.  Thus, the whole point of this bullshit emotional drama that David didn’t enjoy.  He’d better get a hefty tour bonus next time around for dealing with all this this touchy-feely shit.

“So you’re getting a divorce?”

“No.”

David mentally recited his unabridged Yiddish dictionary of creative swearing at the stubborn fucking set of his friend’s jaw.  The belligerent sonofabitch wasn’t coughing up enough information to fill a gnat’s ass and now he was pissed, too.

Fukakta putz.

“Okayyy...  Then you wanna tell me how you’re gonna avoid somebody getting hurt?”

“Cassidy isn’t some dumb damn kid and I’m sure as hell not.  There’s no crystal ball to tell where this is going to go, but we’re working it out.”

Digging deep found a scant teaspoon of patience that David didn’t realize was tucked away behind his gall bladder.  He pulled it out and stretched that damn thing for all it was worth.

“As long as you have the little wife at home, this is going one of two places.  Either you get tired of leading a dual life and break it off... or Cassidy gets tired of being your dirty little secret and sends you packing.  Neither scenario is pain free and, while I like Cassidy, it’s your mental health that’s in recovery, not hers.  This girl could fuck you up, ya know.”

The muscle in Jon’s jaw relaxed and he turned to the window, his eyes automatically narrowing at the orange glow cast by the sun as it descended into the horizon. 

“She won’t,” he murmured to the setting sun. 

Jesus H. Christ, how in the hell is he this far gone in such a short time? 

“I personally believe you’re a delusional motherfucker.  Do you think you really know her that well after – what – two weeks?”

Jon slowly dragged his gaze away from the window and David found his friend’s eyes to be odd.  Through the years, he’d seen a lot of expressions in those eyes – intensity, anger, focus, happiness, anxiety, confusion – but this was a first.   In songwriters’ terms, the gaze that locked unwaveringly into his glowed with a peaceful tranquility that was completely uncharacteristic of Jon Bon Jovi.

That tranquility was fully articulated in three gentle words.

“Yeah.  I do.”

###

“Mama, do you have red hair now?”

When she had seen her beloved offspring’s name appear on the phone screen, Cassidy had initially been delighted.  She supposed she still was delighted, but wished this call had been prompted by something – anything – else. 

Stifling the sigh that wanted to escape, she let her head fall back to edge of the suite’s oversize tub.  Its sunken depths had tempted her during her time here at the Omni, but Jon had always proven more tempting so she hadn't succumbed to its lure.  Now, though, after he'd coerced her into spending another night near civilization and people, as he put it, he was gone and she was here alone.  It had seemed like a good time for a hot bath and a little soul searching.

She had barely twisted the faucet handles off and leaned back in a drift of shower gel bubbles when Calliope's call rang through. 

Lord, I know I should’ve contacted her yesterday when those photos cropped up, but I was hopin’ she was too busy to see ‘em.  Don’t let her worry herself about this nonsense.  Medicine is where her head needs to be. 

“Well, hello yourself, Miss Calliope Ann.  I’m doin’ just fine, thank ya for askin’.  How about yourself?  You ‘bout studied yourself to death, yet?”

“Mother, don’t fall into the genteel Southern belle routine.  Answer the damn question.”

Ah, yes.  Her daughter the steel magnolia.  It was both a blessing and a curse that the girl had learned every lesson taught at her mama’s – and MeMaw’s – knee.  She knew exactly how to be as demure and ladylike as any other young woman south of the Mason-Dixon Line, but darling Calliope also had a backbone like titanium.  When she held a medical degree because of that backbone, it would ultimately make Cassidy proud.  At the moment it was merely tiresome. 

“Yes, sweet girl, I am currently a shiny copper that actually makes me look like your mama.”

Her daughter’s hair had actually been the inspiration for selecting red when going incognito.  Libby was a strawberry blonde and Calliope was the same shade of persimmon that MeMaw had been in her younger years.  Cassidy was the only blonde in the family, and she’d decided to take a ride on the ginger side with the rest of them.

“Then that’s you in the photos with Jon Bon Jovi.”

It wasn’t a question.  The girl was smart as a tack – smarter than Cassidy had ever hoped to be – and there was no point in denying it, but redirecting the conversation a bit wasn’t out of the question.

“Now how did you stumble on those silly things?” she chided, bending her knees so that they stuck up out of the water.  “Don’t you have things to be doin’ other than combin’ the gossip rags?”

“Yes, actually, I do.” 

The haughty admission made her homesick for the feisty girl she hadn’t seen since Christmas.  Mid-terms had been utterly unforgiving, so her daughter had missed the funeral and resulting madness, and medical school in general was so demanding that the two of them only spoke every couple of weeks.  Calliope had no idea that Cassidy was living an alternate life and that’s exactly how Cassidy wanted it.

“Yet you still managed to find them, and now you’re callin’ to scold me?” she inquired with a gentle laugh.

“It’s more like they found me since you and I are apparently identical twins when we have the same hair color,” was the amused drawl.  “I have multiple copies on my phone thanks to a horde of friends who are marveling at the resemblance.  Tabitha is still convinced it is me and wants to know if it was creepy having an old man leer at my cleavage.”

“Oh, honey.”  Cassidy couldn’t help but laugh.  “I never dreamed there’d be anything like this happen, much less that it would impact you.  I’m awful sorry.”

“It’s actually been a pleasant change of pace from endless cadaver sessions, so I’m not complainin’.  Now tell me what you were doin’ in Nashville with Jon Bon Jovi.”

“Havin’ dinner.”

It wasn’t going to satisfy the younger woman’s curiosity, but it was an effective stall until Cassidy could decide how much she was willing to share with the youngest female Cassidy.

“Mama, you are far too smart a woman to be playin’ dumb, so don’t insult yourself or me by doin’ it.  How do you know him?”

It would take a solid two weeks to convey what had happened to Cassidy in the sixteen days since she’d met Jon.  Neither she nor Calliope had that kind of time but, seeing as she’d never been one to flat-out lie to her daughter, she was going to have to find some kind of acceptable abbreviation.

“The short story is I met him and his friend in a bar and they liked my singin’.  I went into the studio a couple of times with him after that and we’re… friends.”

“Well, I don’t know what’s more shockin’ about that.  You in a bar, you recordin’ with a professional musician or the ‘friend’ bull puckey you’re feedin’ me.  Have you seen those pictures, Mama?  Friendship isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.”

No, it wasn’t.  Cassidy had spent a great deal of time studying them since Jon left, along with the sweetly taken selfie from yesterday morning.  There was no denying that the photos Calliope had seen exceeded the limits of friendship, but Cassidy wasn’t admitting adultery to her daughter.

“Calliope Ann, he’s a married man.”

“Which makes it all the more scandalous for my Baptist-raised mother.” 

“He has become a very dear friend,” Cassidy asserted in her best mommy voice.  “And those photos take my perfectly innocent stumble on the sidewalk and make it look smutty.  He was simply helpin’ me stay on my feet.”

“If you say so.”  Calliope clearly wasn’t buying the truth because of the desire that was blatantly obvious to anyone looking at the photos.  “Regardless, it’s excitin’ to think of you bein’ friends with a celebrity.  Do you have any of the recordin’s from the studio?”

Grateful that the vein of the conversation was shifting, Cassidy flicked at the bubbly water with a smile.  “Yes and some of them are quite good, if I do say so myself.  Jon and his friends seem to think I could sing professionally if I chose to.”

“I’d like to hear those, even though I’m not surprised.  Just like MeMaw always said, you sing like the angels in Heaven.”

Cassidy had always dismissed her grandmother’s compliment as nothing more than familial pride, so she’d almost forgotten about it. 

Sorry, MeMaw.  Seems like you might’ve been right.

“Speakin’ of MeMaw,” Calliope continued.  “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meanin’ to tell you, but school keeps me so distracted that it’s gotten away from me in the times we’ve talked lately.”

“What’s that, baby girl?”

“It was somethin’ peculiar that MeMaw said to me when I was home for Christmas.  I know those last months were filled with pain medication, so she may have just been talkin’ out of her head, but she was awfully insistent about me promisin’ to pass it along to you after she was gone.”

Cassidy’s heart thumped painfully and unexpected tears welled in her eyes.  If there was ever a time she needed to hear from her grandmother, now was that time.  It didn’t matter what the message was, just that it was from MeMaw and meant for her.

“Go on,” she quietly prompted her daughter.

“This didn’t make a lick of sense to me, but she said that, if it ever got to be too hard, you should look in the bottom of the littlest box.  There was somethin’ there that might ease your burden.  Does that make any sense at all to you?”

The littlest box of gold.  The one that had been kept in the house.  Cassidy had opened it for Jon the other day, but she’d never had any reason to dig down into the gold or remove it from the box.  If she had, she might have already discovered what her grandmother had left behind to ease the burden.

You also might never have met Jon, and wouldn’t that be a shame?

It didn’t matter that the answer to this mess may have been within her grasp the whole time.  It only mattered that Cassidy now knew where to look for her answers.  Halle-freaking-lujah.

Thank you, Lord.  Thank you, MeMaw.

“Yes, my beautiful Calliope,” she affirmed, sliding down into the bubbles with a grin that was a mile wide.  “It makes perfect sense.”