7 - Merry Moniker

“So that’s what a glittered cock ring looks like.”

Jon’s hitched eyebrow showed that he wasn’t impressed by the contents of the little box in his hand.  His utter disdain made it all the funnier for Charlie, who had laughed so much in the last half-hour that her cheek muscles were going to cramp and create an immovable Joker-esque grin.

“You gonna take it out?”  That sly question came from one of the two other people sequestered in Jon’s office for the opening of this gift. 

“No, Kentucky, I’m not fucking taking it out,” he scoffed with a hard look at the snarky creator of his new bling.  “The damn thing can keep all its glitter herepes, ‘cause I ain’t touchin’ it.”

“Now, Jon.  Don’t be mean.  Lilah went to all the trouble to special-make that for you.”  Charlie barely managed to get it out before her snickering started again.

Make-up had been pointless today.  Every bit of eyeliner was gone thanks to the constant wiping of mirthful tears, and more started to flow when Jon slid a lazy stink eye her way.  He didn’t find her nearly as funny as she did.

“Thanks, Lilah,” he drawled sardonically.  “For something I can never un-see.”

“Tour isn’t gonna be the same now, is it?”

Tony was goading his brother because Lilah hadn’t just decorated Jon’s cock ring with random red and green glitter in the spirt of the season.  Oh no.  She custom-designed this little beauty with solid red glitter – and adorned it with two beady eyes and a black line of glitter glue along the top and bottom edge. 

The “Have a Nice Day” smirk had its mouth open for business, and Charlie thought it was hilarious.  Jon, not so much.

“I had better never see this replicated on one of my concert screens, or your ass is fired.”

“Never crossed my mind.”

Jon eased the lid back onto Mr. Smirk’s cardboard coffin and overlooked Tony’s blatant lie.  “You’re a screwball, Kentucky, but I gotta give you props for pulling the whole herpetology thing outta thin air.  That was pretty damn impressive on the fly.”

Lilah dismissed the praise with an uncomfortable smile and a shrug.  The self-conscious behavior was out of character, but Charlie was starting to notice that it often surfaced at times like these.

When Jon gave her hell for feeding them a “Las Vegas showgirl turkey”, she sassed right back at him.  When Tony bickered about the chaotic mess in their dining room, she waved him off with an uncaring hand.  When Matt called her a kook, she grinned, saying everyone needed a kook in their life and that he should be grateful it was her and not the guy from “Silence of the Lambs”.

The woman counter-attacked every instance of Bongiovi ridicule with feisty witticisms, but just let one of them say something nice to her.  That’s when she got all awkward and tongue-tied.  It was the strangest thing.

Shifty eyes darted to the piano as Lilah crammed both hands into her back pockets. “Sometimes it helps to be screwy, I reckon.  We’d prob’ly better go on out there and see if dinner’s about ready.  My kids are likely chewin’ on tree branches.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tony complained when his brother deposited the box in a desk drawer.  Holding out an open palm, he commanded, “Gimme that.  I wanna show Matt.”

“Show him your own.”

“I didn’t bring it.”  Impatient fingers waggled with insistence.  “Gimme.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Jon grumbled and tossed it at Tony’s chest with a huff.  “Don’t let anybody else see it.”

“Of course not.  Nobody except Dom.  And Luke and Vince.  Maybe Dad.” 

The evil Bongiovi grin was in full force with that bullshit assurance, making Charlie laugh.  When Jon’s full lips took on a pout, she decided she’d picked on him enough for one family holiday and offered her support in the form of a stern, “Keep it away from all the kids – even the older ones.  Those boys don’t need help finding trouble.”

There wasn’t a chance for Tony to offer up a promise.  Before he could do more than pretend to think about it, a knock came on the door that Jon answered with a loud invitation to enter – while stabbing a threatening finger at his brother. 

Caleb’s tousled head popped around the door’s edge.  “Hey Mom? Becca and I want to do the gender and name thing before dinner.  Is that okay?”

Excitement and anticipation flip-flopped in her stomach.  As if the girl’s pregnant belly wasn’t enough, things were about to get very real.  The baby hiding under Becca’s soft red sweater was about to get an identity, and Charlie would finally know whether to buy blue or pink.  

She was going to be a Nonna.  To an actual person, and not just the mooching dog who was weaving around everyone’s ankles in search of dropped scraps. 

Poor Nana.  She wouldn’t like not being the baby anymore. 

“You’ve got names picked out already?  I didn’t know that.”  Nobody had mentioned names, and she’d been waiting for that conversation with a few of her own suggestions.  The again, she was behind the curve in most everything involving this pregnancy.  Why should she be included in the naming?

Don’t be a bitch.  Enjoy your achy cheeks and give the kid a breather from your abundance of opinions.

“Yep.  Can we do it now?”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Undoubtedly knowing that she was on the verge of sticking a foot in her mouth, Jon took it upon himself to deliver the answer and placed an ushering hand at Charlie’s back.  “C’mon folks.  We’ve got a baby to unveil.”

“Lord a’mercy, don’t talk about unveilin’ that baby yet.  You’ll have it thinkin’ today’s a good day for bein’ born,” Lilah scolded.

Herding everyone in front of him, Jon mocked, “It’s not like you can will things like that into being, Kentucky.”

“Speak for yourself.”

With their sister-in-law’s intuition, it wouldn’t necessarily be a shock to find out Lilah possessed the voodoo powers he believed her to have.  She may even be descended from a black magic priestess for all they knew, but Charlie was more inclined to believe that Lilah just liked spooking Jon.

Charlie was usually on board with that, but this time she took his side.   

“There will be no premature labor until at least Groundhog Day,” she asserted as they emerged from the office into the living room. 

“Well, it’s about damn time.  So good of you to join us.”

“Shut up, Luke.  We were gone for ten minutes.”  Charlie would’ve offered him a Jersey salute – complete with a shiny red bow – if she didn’t think their mother would throw a fit.  Brothers were such a pain in the ass.

“Well, you held up this announcement for at least eight of it.”

“Over here, Mom.”

She was so distracted by Luke’s whining that the empty armchair at the center of the room escaped her attention until Caleb directed her toward it. 

An empty chair never happened by accident.  With this crowd, there were never quite enough spots for them all to sit comfortably in one room.  At least a handful of people were always perched on chair and sofa arms or cross-legged in the floor.  If there was a vacant seat, someone had been evicted to create it. 

Well, it wasn’t entirely vacant, she found upon approach.  There was a gift on the cushion.  The size of a shirt box, it was wrapped in white paper and tied with a gold ribbon. 

“What’s this?”

“Pick it up and sit down,” her son instructed with a grin as his girlfriend sidled up next to him.  “Becca and I want you to do the reveal as your Christmas present, and the envelope is your gift from me and Noah.  And Jon, kind of.  He got the right people together.” 

That sounded like her husband.  Jon knew everybody, and if there was someone he didn’t know, he knew someone who did know them.  The man could make things happen, and it warmed her to know he was using that ability on behalf of the boys. 

The thick, oblong envelope labeled “Mom” was practically hidden under the fluffy double bow, but it slid free when Charlie lifted the box.  She had to make a grab to keep it from falling to the floor.

Settling into the chair under the watchful eyes of their huge family, she caught Jon’s attention and subtly tilted her head.  He couldn’t even even take his cue to sit on the chair arm before getting hammered with an accusatory glare. 

“I see you’re still keeping secrets from me.”

He was so used to their full-blown fighting that her disgruntled gripe practically qualified as love talk.  With a lazy smile, Jon just kissed the top of her head and murmured, “Last one, and it’s a good one.”

“It better be.”

“Jeez, Mom.  Can we do this before I become an uncle?” 

This from Noah who had shifted through the crowd to stand beside his brother in a cloud of impatience.  The amount of patience in this room could be collected in a shot glass with room to spare.  None of them were known for it, and she could feel the wave of fidgeting begin.  If she didn’t get this show on the road, there was going to be a riot.

“Alright, alright.”  Before the any of her brothers decided to join in on the nagging, she pushed her finger under the flap of the envelope. 

As she did, there came a snicker from over by the windows, and it lifted one corner of Charlie’s mouth into her cheek.  It sounded like Matt just got his first look at Lilah’s handiwork. 

A thick, tri-folded stack of papers was now free from the confines of the envelope.  Tucking it between the cushion and chair arm, she then flipped up the top edge of the Christmas gift from her sons.  There was an eerie sense of déjà vu as she saw the header for a legal document from Kings County, New York, and she flicked a look of suspicion toward two grinning sons. 

“What?  Is it the trend to spend money on legal services for a former lawyer?” she demanded wryly.  “Is this what I’ve got to look forward to every year?  Court-appointed sentiments?”

“If it makes you happy, who cares?”

“Touchè.”  Her husband was right.  If this was even a quarter as good as last year’s donation to the legal community, she had no room for complaint. 

“Read it, already.”

“I’m reading, I’m reading!”  Caleb’s prompting should make Charlie wonder how she got such pushy children, but she knew how.  They were hers. 

A quick scan of the document caused her heart to stutter, and then she went back to read it more carefully.  There were actually two documents here, and both were approved orders for name changes – one for Noah and one for Caleb. 

They boys no longer carried the surname Foster.  They were now legally and officially Del Vecchios, and before she even thought to ask why, a puddle of emotion pooled in her lower lids.  They really were her children.

“We decided we’d never really been Fosters, anyway,” Noah explained to both her and the room at large without prompting.  “And after finding out what went on all those years….  Well, we’re Del Vecchios.  Always have been, and now that we legally changed our name, the rest of the world will know that.”

Dropping the hands that still clutched thick parchment, Charlie just looked at her kids through a sheen of moisture.  She’d never taken the Foster name and had wished countless times that they carried her name instead of Owen’s – and now they did. 

“We mentioned it to Jon and he hooked us up with a lawyer,” Caleb supplied, prompting her to reach for her husband’s hand.  “What do you think?”

“What do I think?”  The unopened package was put aside so that she could rise and fold both young men into her arms for bone-crushing hugs.  “I think this was more a gift to yourselves than it was to me, but I’ll take it.  Gladly.  I love you both so much.”

“Guess you haven’t ruined the desire to be part of this family for everybody.”

A loud thwap followed Luke’s blurted sarcasm, and his yelp of pain incited a round of laughter along with Dominick’s, “It’s Christmas, you idiot.  Stop being a horse’s ass.”

“Language, Domnick.”

“Yes, Ma.”  The sigh was followed by another audible thwap to his younger brother, and Charlie gave a watery chuckle as she released her boys.

“You may live to regret publicly claiming those morons, but I’m thrilled with your decision.  Thank you.”  Kisses and fresh hugs were exchanged before she turned to drop grateful lips to Jon’s mouth.  “I love you for loving and supporting them.”

Not financially, either.  Thanks to an interest-bearing account, the boys were still sitting on a joint trust that had scarcely dipped below million-dollar payout of Owen’s life insurance policy.  Money was nice, but it wasn’t the same as emotional support that not every step-father was qualified or willing to provide.  This man had gone above and beyond as of late, and Charlie was immeasurably thankful for him.

“It’s what family does, baby.”

It was as simple as that in his mind, and she couldn’t keep herself from stealing another impulsive kiss.  Jon was imperfect perfection – and he was hers.

“Okay, okay.  Enough of that,” came a bellow from the peanut gallery.  One of her brothers, Charlie was sure.  “Are we getting a grand-niece or a grand-nephew?”

The next voice she positively identified as the oldest Del Vecchio sibling.  “Doesn’t matter.  Dominick or Dominique are both great names.”

“Which they won’t be using.”

“And they won’t be using yours, either,” Vince scorned.  “Because this family already has a Luke and a Lucas, little brother.  That’s plenty.  Personally, I think Vincenzo would be nice.  Or Vincetta.”

“I vote for Julian or Juliana.” 

Of all those suggestions, Charlie agreed most with the last one, from her father.  It would be a blessing to have a grandchild named for her mother.

“How about you get on with this to shut them up?”  Jon prodded under his breath.

With a grin, she plopped back down with the unopened package.  “Excellent idea.  Okay, who wants to see if we’re having a Del Vecchio girl or boy?”

An approving roar went up from the quibbling crowd, and Charlie sought Becca and Caleb. 

“Are we ready for this?”

Both grinning kids nodded as their arms tightened around each other’s waists, giving every appearance of a young couple in love.  They would end up getting married, Charlie silently predicted, and bestowing more grandbabies upon their family.  When the time was right.

A gentle tug on one end of the bow had it unraveling, and impatient hands stripped the paper away.

Do I want a boy or a girl?

Boys were what she knew after raising two of them, but it would be so much fun to dress a little girl.  Their combined five sons produced plenty enough testosterone at family gatherings, so it might be nice for a pink bundle of joy to offset it.

Either way, she would be happy.  Love knew no gender when it came to grandchildren.  Pink or blue, nuts or no nuts, – as she heard one of Jon’s brothers joke – prince or princess.  There was no wrong answer, but when she lifted the box lid…

“Ohhhh!”  Her head whipped around to demand of Jon, “Did you know this, too?”

His blinding grin was wide enough to light the whole room.  “Nope.  This, I would’ve told you.”

“Well?  What the hell is it?”

“Language, Luca!”

“Sorry, Ma.  What the heck is it?  Julian or Juliana?”

Charlie brought the fuzzy pink blanket from the box to her face for a heartbeat before lifting it to reveal both the color and the embroidered name.

“Charley Corinne.  It’s a girl.”

“She’ll probably be called Cici,” Caleb clarified.  “But I wanted some version of Charlie, and Corinne is Becca’s grandma.”

She hugged the little blankie to her chest.  “I think it’s beautiful, and I’m honored, just like I know Becca’s grandma is.”

So, he didn’t run to her for help with his unexpected news.  So, he’d gone to Jon instead of her.  Those things would fade into memory eventually.  This baby’s name would not, and the fact that Caleb chose to bestow her nickname on his child…

“Told ya little gifts are the best.”

Beaming across the room at the all-knowing Lilah, Charlie concurred, “Little gifts rock.”

“They do at that,” Jon agreed with a kiss to her temple.  “But I gotta tell you.  The guy that’s gonna butt heads with Charley Del Vecchio 2.0 is gonna need my advice.  I think maybe it’s time to write a book.”

Charlie’s head toppled back with what must be the millionth burst of laughter in this beautiful day. 

If anyone ever wrote their story, she certainly didn’t want her granddaughter reading it.  The only thing this little girl needed to know was that she was a gift to the family who loved each other as much as they would come to love her.

Merry Christmas

6 - Christmas Cheer

December 25, 2016

“So everybody’s doin’ okay?”  Lilah inquired from beneath the brim of a reindeer antlered Santa hat that didn’t even faze Charlie.  She noticed both Lucas and M.J. had miniature versions and that Lilah’s twenty-two-year-old son, Andrew, also sported one.  Even Tony had the antler hat, leading Charlie to believe they were a part of their homemade holiday. 

Or Lilah just liked them and forced them on the family in the name of the season.  That was possible, too. 

Family was scattered throughout the Navesink house, socializing until it was time for dinner, gifts and the gender reveal.  She and Lilah were standing in a niche by the fireplace sipping wine, with peace and tranquility reigning as much as it ever would amongst thirty Italians.  Loud quarreling over the football game or raucous guffaws she could handle.  The important thing was that there was none of the anger or despair that Charlie had feared would hang over their holiday. 

Only her parents were truly distressed by their budding great-grandchild.  Her brothers and sisters-in-law were concerned, but it didn't take long before everyone was ready and willing to deal with the hand they'd been dealt.

For her, there hadn’t been any negative feelings from the moment she’d accepted circumstances and her son for what they were.  Her mental concession the day they’d decorated the tree she now stood beside was a turning point.  It allowed her to listen with an open mind to the plans Caleb had put together in an admirable effort to be the man Jon challenged him to be. 

He wasn’t a man to her, though.  He was still a kid, and as such, she thought those plans needed some fine-tuning.  The six of them – Jon, Charlie, Caleb, Becca and Becca’s parents – had done a lot of that in a sit-down after college finals last week.  Most notable was that, rather than living in an apartment across town, the young couple would take over the unoccupied half of the dual brownstone she and Jon owned. 

The two homes were connected enough to be convenient for helping out the new parents but separate enough to offer everyone privacy, and in return, they would pay half of what their current apartment rent.  Jon and Charlie would cover all other expenses.

The kids didn’t know it, but their rent money would be socked away in a separate savings account.  It would remain there until they either graduated and got their own place or chose to get married.

That was the one area where Caleb refused to be fine-tuned.

Her Catholic parents were dying a million deaths over the unwed parenting thing, but the young man would not be moved.  He was standing firm, and having heard his explanation as to why, Charlie stood firmly beside him.

“We’re good.  My parents are still lighting candles because the kids aren’t getting married.”

“They aren’t?”  Glittered eyebrows furrowed.  “Did I know that?  I thought you were pushin’ for it.”

“No.”  There were reflections of the tree’s white lights shimmering in her wine, and it was them that she spoke to.  “He saw what a marriage of obligation can lead to.  Caleb doesn’t want the baby to end up like he and Noah did, so he says they won’t get married until it feels right.”

“You mean because of that asshat Owen forcin’ you to marry him because you got pregnant.”

“Yep.”

When presented that train of thought, Charlie had no argument.  She’d suffered for a lot of years for doing the “right” thing, and there was no way she’d wish it on her own child. The only thing she did wish was that he and Becca would both finish school, which they’d promised to do.  Hopefully, that would come to pass.

Caleb’s life obviously wasn’t meant to be the old-fashioned ideal of love, marriage and then children, but the determination in his eyes told Charlie he wouldn’t suffer for it.  Her son still had goals and ambitions with the drive to achieve them. 

And when he needed a little extra motivation, there was Jon. 

Charlie couldn’t decide if he was the boy's best friend or the best stepfather in the world.  Frankly, she hadn't realized how close their relationship was before this all happened, and it only became stronger after.

Now that she was paying closer attention and asking more questions of her own, she'd discovered that he acted a sounding board without offering an opinion.  He simply listened to what Caleb had to say, and then asked for his thoughts on the subject.  Because of Jon, Caleb ended up resolving most of his own issues and was growing more confident in the whole "being a man" thing.

Charlie thought she knew what love was when she walked across the lawn in East Hampton on her wedding day.  It was big, all-encompassing and felt squishy in all the right places, but it wasn't a drop in the bucket compared to today.  

His calming – yes, calming – presence in the middle of a crisis and the nurturing hard-ass father role he’d adopted with the boys….  Love took on new and more epic proportions every day, even when he was an asshole.

“How did homemade Christmas turn out?” Charlie forcibly stepped outside her head to inquire of Lilah, “Did Tony do okay, or did he get… you know?”

A grin that was more imp than elf curved around the lip of the cranberry Sprite that was supposed to look like rosè.  Lilah wasn’t a wine drinker and had no desire to be one, but just to keep the Bongiovi brothers off her back, she was granting them the illusion today.

“He did great, actually.  My gift is a monthly housekeepin' service for the next year.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound homemade, but I wouldn’t argue over a good house cleaning.” 

In fact, Jon’s very similar gift to her was catering for today’s dinner.  

Last year’s meal prep was still a feather in her cap.  A grand accomplishment that she wore proudly, but there was no doubt that having someone else in charge was a lot easier.  Some of the family brought their holiday favorites because that's what they wanted to do, and that was fine.  Bringing nothing at all was also fine, because everything was covered from appetizers to cleanup. 

This Christmas was for relaxing and enjoying the people she loved.  

“Right?  What woman doesn't want somebody else to run the sweeper?  He did kinda shoot himself in the foot, though."

"How did he do that?"

One glittered eyebrow arched with attitude.  "By sayin’ this was the only way the glitter might be gone by next Christmas.  That earned him the shiny little choker.  If he's good, I might give him the bike cover tonight.”

Charlie nearly spit out her wine.  “Oh, sweet Jesus.  Please tell me you got video or pictures of his face when he opened it.”

“I did, but the contrary man deleted ‘em while I was in the shower.”  Leaning in close, she spoke in a low voice, “But you still have a chance to see a live Bongiovi reaction.”

“Are you going to give him another one?"

“No, silly."  Because Charlie was the silly one in this conversation.  "I kept forgettin' to ask if you found a gift for Jon, so I made him one, too.  It's wrapped up and in my purse if you want it.”

“Oh, hell yes I want it!”  When one of her brothers turned to look, Charlie realized she’d spoken a little too loudly and dropped it back to a level more suitable for plotting mischief.  “The cock ring won’t bring the big reaction, though.  That’ll come when he finds out you made it for him.”

Lilah grinned like the ornery woman she could be.  “I had that very same thought, and it’s amused me for days.  Days, I tell ya.  Lemme go grab it now before things get crazy and we forget.”

She had just scuttled off toward the foyer closet with a giggle when Jon arrived to offer Charlie a fresh drink.  “Dare I ask what the hell you two are up to?”

“You’d rather not know.”  Her empty glass went on the mantle to be retrieved later, and she accepted the new one with a smile at the logo on his black tee.  “I really like that shirt.” 

“I’ll accept your avoidance of the question.  I probably don’t wanna know.” 

“Not probably.  Definitely.” 

Until later, anyway.

“Understood,” he conceded before swiping a preening hand down his chest.  “And the shirt’s great.  You did good.”

She had done good.  After wracking her brain until it cramped, Charlie finally decided to follow Lilah’s advice and make it a little gift Christmas at their house.  He got socks, a new book and the t-shirt that bore two guitars with crossed necks.   There were only two words, with one arched each above and below the guitar: “ROCKSTAR GRANDPA”. 

It was perfect and seemed to please Caleb as much as it did Jon. 

The kids all got pretty much the same thing – something to wear, something to read, and a little pocket money to do something fun.  Charlie did indulge herself with one frivolity, though.  

She bought the baby a soft yellow sleeper with little duckies on the feet.  It was cute yet gender-neutral, since today would be the first time anyone knew whether they were getting a boy or a girl.

“You did good, too,” she complimented.  “I really appreciate the catering and cleanup today.”

“That's not your gift.  It's my gift to me.  If you don't have all that bullshit to exhaust you, then I can slide down your chimney tonight."

Although she laughed at her husband’s exaggerated waggling of eyebrows, Charlie was also confused.  “Then what did you get me?”

The subdued smile he gave her wasn't flavored with its usual snark.  This was more a rakish tilt of the mouth, and it came with a flick of soft eyes toward the tree that their kids decorated almost three weeks ago. 

“What?”

His eyes locked meaningfully into hers before going back to the tree again, and this time, Charlie followed his gaze. 

There, at shoulder level and nestled among the delicate glass bulbs, was an different kind of ornament. One that she’d never seen before.  It was made of clear glass, blending in with its surroundings so well that Charlie to put her fingertips on the edge and tilt it to read the etched inscription. 

Only the Best Mothers Get Promoted to Nonna

Her grin bloomed in time with the thumb that stroked over the last word.  Nonna.  She was going to be a Nonna.  

“Thank you,” she murmured, still enraptured by the heart-shaped piece of glass.  “I love it.”

The backs of his knuckles skated over Charlie's cheek.  “I thought you might.” 

In that quiet moment, it was only the two of them in the soft glow of Christmas lights.  One might even fantasize that everyone in the room was taking a simultaneous breath to create this romantic lull in the midst of familial chaos.

But no. Chaos was actually taking the breath - for its next fanciful round.

“Mommy, what’s herpes?”

The innocent, little-girl question practically echoed off the walls, and Lilah froze just inside the living room doorway.

“Micah Jane, where did you hear that word?”

“Oh shit,” Jon muttered.  He knew exactly where his niece heard that word.  Not ten minutes ago, Tony was telling him and Matt about Lilah’s fucked-up sense of gifting humor, complete with herpes references.  Thank God they’d never actually said “cock ring”.

Guileless eyes blinked up at Lilah from a cherubic face.  “Daddy said it.  He told Uncle Jon and Uncle Matt you gave him herpes for Christmas.”

Every family member above the age of twelve proceeded to lose their shit.  Luke and Matt brayed like jackasses, while Dominick and Vince elbowed a giggling Tony from both sides.  All of Jon’s boys were gasping for air behind the hands that covered their mouths.  Even the grandparents and women were wiping away tears of laughter. 

All except Lilah. 

His unpredictable and borderline psychotic sister-in-law nailed Tony with eerily glowing eyes.  Jon thought she could very well be casting some kind of southern hex on his brother.  She was nutsy enough to try, anyway.

“Well, Micah Jane.”  Her voice lifted to carry over the mocking of brothers and smothered laughter of those who shouldn't be laughing but couldn't stop themselves.  "Herpetology is the scientific study of snakes.”

“You don’t like snakes.  We’re not allowed to have ‘em.”

“That’s right, baby doll,” she praised, stroking the girl’s cheek while still casting voodoo spells on Tony.  “But Daddy is very attached to certain snakes, so I got him a snake collar – a herpes.  That way he can take his snake for a walk without losin’ it.”

This round was more guffaws than giggles but wasn't as wide-spread.  Only the three Bongiovi brothers were cackling their asses off this time, since they understood the hidden meaning in Lilah’s clever explanation.  

Jon had to give it to Kentucky for likening Tony's dick to a snake and that glitter-infested cock ring to a snake collar with a straight face.  She made it all sound like a perfectly reasonable explanation, and he doubted anybody else in this room could've done better. 

His cheeks ached from grinning when he realized there was one more person in the room who was just as amused as he and his brothers.  Chiara. 

A thumb swiped tears from the corners of her eyes while a determined M.J. announced, “Well I want a herpes, too.”

Tony was trying to get his shit together enough to explain that those were for grown-ups when Jon nudged his wife.

“What are you laughing at?  Do you know what she got him?”

“Oh, I absolutely do."  More giggles bubbled free, and his evil wife sniffled before finally choking out, “And she made you one, too.”

5 - Decorating Drama

December 3, 2016

The afternoon sunlight shone brightly from the Navesink and into their New Jersey living room, glinting off glass ornaments that were dispersed across the sofa cushions, the coffee table and every other available surface.  Those were “their” ornaments, compiled from a box of “his” and two boxes of “hers”.  There was also an assortment that hadn’t survived the last year, and those were in a wastebasket by Charlie’s feet. 

The menial chore was providing Charlie and her impatience with a distraction while they waited for their children to arrive for dinner and tree decorating.  Jon was untangling the lights, because he didn’t trust her not to wrap them around his neck. 

He was not a dumb man. 

Considering how he’d stonewalled her for the last forty hours on all things Caleb, his health was definitely at risk. 

No matter how creative she was about prying information, his answer was always the same – Caleb would tell her everything she wanted to know.  Reminding him of wedding vows and where his loyalty should lie was useless.  He just gave her that watered-down stink-eye along with a cryptic reminder to look beyond the negative.

It irritated her enough to get laid twice last night and once this morning. 

Then again, maybe that’s why he did it….

“What time is it?”

Without looking at the massive mantle clock that he called a watch, her husband calmly advised, “Two minutes later than the last time you asked.”

Most of the kids weren’t scheduled to be there until early evening, but the son who was still dodging her phone calls told Jon he’d be there by three. Two minutes later than last time she asked meant it was two forty-seven.

If he’s late, I’ll kill him and Jon both.

“Don’t be a smartass with me.  I wouldn’t be so uptight if you’d tell me what to expect.”

“So you’ve said – several times.”

His emotionless tone was annoying, and she threw a pom pom Santa at him.  “You’re an asshole.”

“Also something you’ve said several times.”  Crinkled blue eyes looked up from the strands he was sorting, and they held a Santa-eque twinkle that did nothing to soothe her annoyance.  “You gotta get some new material, Counselor.”

“Okay, fine.”  A reindeer missing one eye went into the wastebasket that wouldn’t be thrown out until all six kids gave their approval.  “Tell me what you want for Christmas, because I have no idea.  I don’t have a spare four million that you didn’t earn, and we don’t need anymore houses or cars.  You wear the same jeans and shirts day after day, without even caring if they’re clean.  It makes it hard.”

One more neatly wound light string went next to the tree that awaited adornment.  “Technically, you didn’t get me anything last year, since I tore up the check.  Anything’s a step up.”

She’d kill him right then and there if it wasn’t for the irony.  “That’s exactly what Lilah said, so take that, smartass.  You think like Lilah.”

“She’s right once in a while,” he grunted and straightened with a grimace that gave her a sadistic smile.  All the bedroom anger was taking a toll on his back, but he still stopped to bend and steal a quick kiss.  “What I want is for you to be reasonable when Caleb gets here.  Don’t go into Counselor mode and put him on the witness stand.  He’s been thinking about what to say for a fucking week, so let him say it before you pounce.”

Huffing, she dropped her hands in her lap.  “How about you stop making me a heinous bitch in this story?  It’s easy for you to tell me to be reasonable when number one, you know everything already, you smug SOB.  Number two, this isn’t one of your kids.”

“Don’t start that shit with me,” he growled, hooking impatient hands over his hips to hit her with a scowl.  “You know Noah and Caleb are as much my family as Jesse or Jake.”

“Yeah, but they’re more like nephews than your babies, Jon.  If this was Jesse, you’d be having a conniption.  And if I was the one keeping these secrets…”  She rolled her eyes with a scoff.  “You’d either be furious or pouting.”

“Kind of like you are?”

“My point exactly!” Charlie crowed.  “You wouldn’t like it any better than I do, so stop being so damn righteous.”

It was obvious that her point hit home, because Jon shook his head with a slow sigh.  Things were different when the shoe was on the other foot and he’d just switched feet.

Gently sweeping some of the ornaments to one side, he cleared a seat on the coffee table to sit in front of her.  “Look,” he began gently.  “If this was Jesse….  I don’t know.  Maybe I would take it a little harder, but that’s the only difference.  I’d still make him accept responsibility for his actions.  There is no easy way out in life, and these kids – our kids – have to learn that.”

“So you’d let him blindside Dorothea while quietly sitting on insider knowledge?” 

Charlie found that hard to believe, but he was adamant.  “I would.  If he isn’t smart enough to tell us both at the same time, and only deal with it once, then yes.  Absolutely.”

“It doesn’t sound like Caleb had anything to ‘deal with’ by telling you,” she grumbled. 

“I tell ya what.”  Strong hands came to wrap around hers and squeeze.  “I will make sure you get full disclosure before you go to sleep tonight.  If Caleb leaves anything out, I’ll either prod him or tell you myself.  Swear to God.  But he didn't get a free pass from me.”

Her husband was a jerk sometimes, but he wasn’t a liar.  This was the guy who gave her divorce papers with his marriage proposal, and again as a security blanket on their wedding day.  He had earned and deserved her trust.

“Okay,” she sighed reluctantly, shoving a hand through her hair before nailing him with a stern look.  “But I need you to say it’s going to all be okay, Jon.  I need you to reassure me this is going to work out.”

Chiara didn’t need him to tell her jack, and Jon knew it.  She was smart, and mentally processed things a hell of a lot faster than he did.  There were probably a dozen contingencies already established in her mind to make this work out in a way she could live with.

“No, you don’t.  You know it already, if for no other reason than because you won’t settle for anything less.”

“But I want to hear it from you,” was her insistence, and the toughest women he’d ever butted heads with showed him a rare sliver of insecurity.  “I trust you.  If you say it, my heart will believe it.”

Chiara wasn’t one to spout romantic notions.  As a guy from Jersey, they didn’t impress him much anyway, but this was probably the nicest thing she ever said to him.  Her trust was epic, especially considering the mind games that damned Owen had used to manipulate her. 

If she trusted him, what choice did Jon have after but to give her the reassurance she wanted?

Tucking a knuckle under her chin, he met cocoa irises and firmly asserted, “This is going to be okay.”

“Are you just saying it, or do you really think so?”

The lingering ghost of doubt inspired him ooze enough confidence for both of them. “I really think so.  Hell, his path is taking a turn none of us expected, but he’s your son, baby.  You raised both your boys to be smart, capable and self-sufficient.  I get that this wasn’t your dream for him, and so does he, but this is not even close to the worst thing that could happen.”

“I realize that,” was the perturbed grumble that came with the relocation of Jon’s hand from under her chin to her denim covered thigh.  “Part of this anger is tied to vanity, to be honest.  I’m too young to be a grandmother.”

“You’ll be the hottest grandma in Jersey or Brooklyn, and I’ll make being a rock star grandpa all the rage.  This is only gonna pimp our images, baby.”

For the first time today, he was treated to a genuine smile and laughter, even if she did pat his face just a little too hard.  “You’re cute, Bongiovi.  Annoying as hell, but cute.  I’m going to keep you.”

He was about to make an equally wise-ass remark when the voice they’d been waiting for called from the foyer.  “Anybody home?”

That quickly, Chiara’s smile faded, and shimmering eyes hardened with worry and unhappiness.  “Keep me from killing him, Jon.  I don’t want to spend Christmas in jail.”

“Living room!” he called out before lowering his voice.  “You’re not going to kill him.  You’re going to be proud of him.”

The counselor's facial expression conveyed disbelief, but she kept it quiet as Caleb entered the room with his head held high – followed by Noah.  It was a good move bringing his older brother along, because that prompted her to rise with a smile. 

“If it isn’t my handsome son.”  Stepping into Noah’s arms for a hug, she tipped a kiss up to his cheek.  “Nice of you to bring this other guy with you, since he seems to have forgotten who his mother is.  At least I assume he has, since nobody blocks their own mother’s phone calls.”

Cutting Caleb a look that screamed “dumbass”, Noah gave her a quick squeeze and release.  “And on that note, I’m going to look for something to eat before dinner.  No bloodshed on the Christmas ornaments, okay?”

“Coward,” Jon called after him, secretly amused.  He could hardly blame the kid for wanting to avoid the showdown. 

And it was going to be a showdown. 

Chiara’s arms were folded over her chest, and a flattened mouth matched equally flat eyes.  His wife wasn’t going to calmly sit and listen to what her youngest had to say without flaying a strip from Caleb’s hide first. 

“Your son or daughter will be in college before I get over how you’ve handled this, Caleb Foster.”

“I’m sorry you’re upset,” he sighed, sliding from his puffy jacket and draping it over the back of a chair.  “But I had my reasons.”

“Well, I would hope so.  I hate to think you were asking Jon to do your dirty work just because you’re lazy.” 

The boy’s eyes darted his way, but Jon just shrugged.  Caleb was on his own now.

“I thought maybe you’d take it better coming from him.”

“No,” she interrupted sharply.  “You thought I’d yell at him instead of you.  Instead, you both get it.”

Caleb didn’t look as much like his mother as Noah, but there was still a resemblance.  Jon couldn’t miss it in the identical set of their jaws and taut facial features.  He offered a moment of gratitude that this son was the more laid back of the two.  His temper wasn’t quite as fiery as Chiara’s and Noah’s.  That would make this go more smoothly.

He hoped.

“It’s not yelling I wanted to avoid, it was disappointment.”  Jon was proud of how the boy didn’t look away but spoke directly.  “Look, Mom.  Becca and I are having a baby.  I’m sorry, but it is what it is.”

“Did you even-“

“Yes, I used a condom,” he interrupted, clearly having prepared himself for that inevitable question.  “It just wasn’t effective.  I have super sperm or something.”

When the counselor covered her eyes with one hand, Jon smirked.  Putting her off balance was one way to reroute the conversation, but she recovered quickly and the hand fell away to remind, “Your super sperm leapt the condom in a single bound six months ago, Caleb.  Six months!  Why in the hell did you wait so long to tell anybody, regardless of who it was?”

Dejected brown eyes shifted to the windows before asking, “Can we sit down, so I don’t feel like you’re constantly about to lunge at me?”

A sharp flick of the wrist directed him to take the chair where his jacket rested, and Chiara took the same sofa cushion as before.  It enabled Jon to splay a palm over her thigh and curve his fingers into the denim as a silent reminder to be reasonable. 

“I am being reasonable,” she muttered under her breath before resuming the inquisition.  “We’re sitting, so tell me why.”

Lifting his Yankees hat to swipe a restless hand through his hair, Caleb reseated the hat and squared his shoulders.  “I wanted to have answers and a plan first.  You were already going to be mad about the baby.  Me showing up scared and clueless wasn’t going to help matters.”

Finally, the rigidity seeped out of Chiara’s spine, and weariness replaced aggressiveness.  Jon would bet she didn’t like being perceived as unapproachable by her kids, and her tired words proved him right. 

“Caleb, I am your mother.  I expect you – want you – to come to me when you’re in trouble.  Yes, I’m going to have emotional reactions that you may not appreciate, but it’s because I’m scared and clueless, too.  We could’ve figured it out together.”

One of the kid’s lanky shoulders lifted with diffidence.  “You always said if we make a mess, we have to clean it up, so I tried.  When Jon said I had to be a man if I was going to be a dad, I went back and tried harder.  Now I’ve got it.  I’ve got all your answers, Mom.  I still need your help, but I have a plan.” 

A sheen of moisture glazed Chiara’s eyes, but Jon’s formidable wife blinked them away and dipped her chin with acquiescence.  She was ready to listen now, and he was confident that everything was going to be okay, just like he promised. 

*4 - Noel Nookie

Jesus Christ on a crutch.  Why was he sexier when she was mad than at any other time?  It was enough to make her forget the past two sleepless nights and the constant nausea of anxiety.

Even when he actually tried to be sexy with the whole Playgirl pose, he couldn't stir this kind of reaction.  Lying on one hip with a hand propped under his head, he'd once attempted to seduce her with a come-hither look that only made her laugh.  

When sparks of anger flew between them, though...

There wasn’t a man anywhere alive that she’d rather have than her husband.  He told her to shut the hell up and estrogen spewed like her ovaries were miniature versions of Old Faithful.  She spat “asshole” while wanting to kiss him as fiercely as she wanted to wipe the smug smirk off that luscious mouth. 

A psychologist would have a field day with their relationship, but it she wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Dammit,” she grumbled.  “I love to hate you as much as I love being loved by you.”

“Back at you, Counselor.” 

Strong hands clamped her waist, and it was his turn to lead in the tango of intimidation.  Backward he walked her to the disheveled island of their bed, and when side rail touched her calf, he lifted and effortlessly threw her into the center. 

He wasn’t a big man by most people’s standards, and the strength he possessed was always a bit of a surprise – and a turn-on. 

“Lose the pajamas,” he ordered in a timbre designed to antagonize.  Thick leather and a heavy belt buckle were already separated, and the buttons on his fly popped like popcorn.  “You have five seconds.”

Normally, she made him work a little harder for it, but they’d been apart for a week.  The promise of his hard, sweaty body trying to dominate her was more enticing than the menial power play tonight. 

His shoes and shirt went flying as Charlie shucked plaid flannel and panties in one swift motion. 

“Get a move on, Counselor.”

“Kiss my ass,” was the retort muffled by the thermal Henley she was tugging over her head.  Hair and hands pulled free, and the soft red fabric got wadded into a ball that she threw at his head.

He only swatted the shirt away with a leer and laugh intended to piss her off. 

It worked. 

“You think you’re God’s gift to women, don’t you?”

“Not women.  You.”

The godforsaken man was good.  So very, very good that her womb screamed like it was 1964 and the Beatles just rolled into town. 

“Keep workin’ it Bongiovi,” she goaded as his kicked pants landed somewhere near the window.  “You might get away without an encore tonight.”

The mattress dipped under his knee, and wicked intent gleamed a tell-tale shade of blue.  “What if I want an encore… Bongiovi?”

Even after six months, her last name was still like a new toy to him.  Maybe because Jon hadn’t expected his hard-nosed lawyer wife to take it, but that term didn’t describe Charlie anymore.  She was a volunteer, artist, mother, bonus mother and wife.  All but one of those things hinged directly on the last name she’d secretly been proud to take, and the only thing that didn’t…  Well, she thought she’d been a better mother, too – until the baby bomb dropped.

Her stomach churned, but she pushed away the worry and anxiety.

Don’t think.  Feel.

A skitter of expectancy goose-pimpled inner thighs when he parted her knees without an ounce of finesse.  From her position lying open and exposed against the pillows, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.  His finely sculpted jaw was coated with whiskers that were going to burn in all the right places.  Perfectly shaped lips were parted just enough to see his peek-a-boo tongue.  Cerulean eyes shimmered with devilry as he roughly stroked himself to readiness. 

When his thumb swiped away a droplet of readiness and rubbed it into the bulging head that should be planted inside her, Charlie’s uterus contracted.  She reached up to roll achy nipples and breathed, “I hope you slept on the plane.”

“I did.”

That was the moment she expected him to drive in to the hilt and fuck her silly, but he wasn’t playing by the usual set of rules tonight.  Jon sat on his knees and continued to leisurely fist himself while a proprietary gaze flicked back and forth from kneaded nipples to the weeping slit that craved its partner.

“What the hell are you waiting for?”

Her irritability only made that one side of his mouth curl with amusement.  “For your temper to be hot enough.  Your pussy to be greedy enough……….  For you to beg.”

“You’ve lost your friggin' mind if you think I’m begging,” she growled, knowing that it was only a matter of time until she made a liar of herself.  This was part of the game and he was the game master.  He knew exactly how to play her.  He always had.  “You’re the one who’s in the doghouse.”

“No, I’m not.” 

Jon’s voice was deceptively soft, and that stroking hand took a detour to squeeze the balls that were taut with expectation.  She didn’t blame him, but she sure as hell wasn’t getting left behind.  Charlie’s right hand glided down her torso, leaving the left to pinch its chubby bit of flesh while her right found another bit of flesh – one that was thudding with the pulse he made dance.

“What delusion makes you think that?”

Charlie’s middle finger dipped into the pool of want that was starting to overflow under his watchfulness.  She swirled in the sauna until the pad was slippery enough to play nice with her clit, and then flicked over it with a soft whimper.  Whatever his game was tonight, she wished he’d get on with it.

“You love me.”

“So?  It might be a well-appointed doghouse, but your ass is still there.”

Jon’s chest creaked with the love that swelled inside him.  He loved her in a way that made no sense and yet was the key to mysteries of the universe.  She was passion.  She was beauty.  She was honor, loyalty, strength, confidence, independence and dedication.  She was everything he valued most, and she held his heart like no one else before her. 

Oh, and she was one more thing.  Forgiveness. 

 “And you know I’ll do what’s best for our family.  Every.  Fucking.  Time.”

She knew.  He’d done it over and over again.  He would keep doing it over and over again, because that’s who John Bongiovi was.  Rock star?  Undboutedly.  Humanitarian?  Absolutely.  Philathropist?  No kidding.  Those were all the things the world lauded him for, but when no one was looking – that’s when he shone the brightest.   

The man would die for his family, and Charlie was at the absolute center of that family.  Everything he did for her – and her sons, his sons, his daughter, their brothers, their parents and even crazy Lilah – came from a genuine spot deep in his heart.  His decisions might not always be popular, but they were always made in the best interest of his family.

The asshole was a Jerseyfied saint, and it was as annoying as it was endearing.

“Are you trying to ruin my angry fuck with love-making?”

In one sudden motion, she was full to the tonsils and had both arms pinned by the hard body on top of her.  His weight made it hard to breathe, but she would’ve lost her breath anyway when he whispered in her ear, “Welcome to the new and improved love fuck.”

At the little grunt that accompanied the roll of his hips, Charlie’s eyes fell blissfully shut.  This.  This was her life, and no matter what little complications came along, it was absolute perfection. 

“Harder.”  Her innermost recesses weren’t satisfied.  He wasn’t enough a part of her, and it was only the delicious scrape of their softest flesh made it tolerable.  She felt the ridge of his head catch as he slid free and then rammed with enough force to deflate her lungs. 

God, that’s good.

“Always harder.  Always deeper,” he mocked, but slammed home again, this time grinding for that extra inch.  “Never e-fucking-nough for you.”

“When you crawl inside of me to stay, it’ll be enough.”

That was her contribution to this love-fucking thing, and it earned her an affectionate nip on the neck.  His thrusts were slow, forceful and measured with a rhythm that only Jon heard, but Charlie felt it.  She felt it deep inside, along with the throb of her clit against fingertips that were now coming back to life. 

There was almost no friction between her legs.  Everything was so drenched that sodden fingerprints found no traction on her clit.  She had to push into her body and rub in tight circles to get the rush she wanted and did so with a warble of satisfaction.  Between his jarring thrusts stimulating the inside and her own handiwork stimulating the outside, it was only seconds before Charlie was on the verge of release. 

She was rising the crest and bracing for the free-fall, ready to savor every tremor… when he stopped.

“What the hell?” she shouted as he still inside her and forcibly removed her fingers from their appointed task to pin both hands high onto the pillow.  “I was almost there.”

“Just think how much better it’s gonna feel now,” the arrogant bastard panted while situating her ankles on his shoulders and leaning forward.  “What’s best for you, Chiara.  Remember that.”

She really did love him most in the throes of hatred, and it nearly split her at the seams as Jon folded her in half.  Kneecaps touched her shoulders, and her hands were still pinned high.  She was completely exposed and defenseless.  He held her entirely at his mercy, and Charlie hated how arousing it was to yield herself.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Her husband’s laugh was short and strangled as his hips swiveled in a exasperating move that titillated but didn’t satisfy.  

“Beg me for it.”

Jon loved this little crack in her armor.  She seldom allowed herself to be weak, and when she did, it was in their bed.  He got off on her pleas to come.  They made him feel like the only one in the world who could give it to her.  He might not be the only one who could, but he was the only one who would, according to Team Monogamy standards, and it was damn satisfying.

 Almost as satisfying as her whispered, “Please.”

“Please, what, baby?”  The wait was torture.  His dick was about to explode from the root, but this had to be part of his orgasm.  The relief wasn’t the same without it.  “Please wear out your pussy?  Please shatter it in a million pieces?  Please pound you into oblivion?”

“Please.”  She was close to the breaking point.  He could hear it in that single cracked word.  “Please give it to me.”

That was a start, and as a reward, Jon pushed slowly inside the greedy sheath that clenched to hold him captive.   For a second.  Then he tugged free amid her protests.

“Give you what, Chiara?  Tell me.”  Jon dipped his head to taste one of the rosy peaks that was straining to reach him.  She’d already worked her nipples up.  He could simply enjoy the fruits of her labor and did, breathing over it, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

Her spine arched, pushing the womanly softness against his face.  She liked to have them licked, and a lazy tongue obliged as she whimpered with frustration. 

“Make me come.”  The sweetness of the breathy surrender was almost enough to make him come.  “Do what only you do.  Please.  Kill me so I can live.”

Mother.  Fucker.

The time for talking was done.  All Jon’s blood had diverted to the little head, and it was hammering itself into a honey-slicked hot tub of happiness.  Her body was stretched tight and straining to keep him, but he fought through the suction to create that provocative slap of mating flesh.  

Liking the sound, he did it again. 

Flesh on flesh.

Faster and faster.

Harder and harder.

Desperation.

Frenzy.

Fury.

Wrath.

Rapture.

Until the pivotal moment that the beauty beneath him turned breathtaking as she reached the plateau of ecstasy. 

Her face contorted with euphoria as she splintered into the promised million pieces, and Chiara convulsed through her final submission to Jon's murmurs of praise and love.  When lethargic eyes finally unclenched to watch him seek his own ecstasy, they were filled with everything a man could ever want to see. 

Everything he could want to see.

Utterly bewitched, Jon stepped blindly onto a shooting star for an unforgettable ride with the love of his life.