Chapter 14

After the various stresses of the last few days - from the fake calm of the call from a Soul staffer, through the panicked trip north to Philly and the unexpected, yet somehow strangely inevitable, meeting with Jon - Billie fell into an exhausted sleep just after nine o’clock that night. The sudden, blessed relief from strain had left her drained, numb with fatigue, and she’d barely sustained the energy to walk around the mall for necessities before succumbing to it and returning to Jay’s apartment. One of her purchases had been a take-out sushi dinner, and she picked her way through it before curling into her son’s bed and falling fast asleep, the newly bought clothes still in their various bags against the wall.

Up in New York, Jon’s night was diametrically opposite to Billie’s. After returning home to the apartment and, as usual, taking his parental duties seriously, letting Tina get the boys bathed and ready, then taking over to settle them for the night, Jon said goodnight and retreated to the sitting room. He cracked open a bottle of wine, the first glass downed recklessly fast before he settled to sip more slowly at the next, letting his mind wander back over the day. Really, over the past few days, from the burning pride of watching his son - his son, dammit! - run out as quarterback for the team, through the crushing terror he’d felt as he watched that same talented kid left unconscious from a bad tackle. The feeling of utter helplessness as he’d waited for news, then the almost welcome distraction of unreasoning rage at the boy’s mother for her deceit over the last nineteen-odd years. The strange gratitude when she finally drilled into his thick skull that it had been done to protect him from his youthful indiscretion, not to punish him by shutting him out of his son’s life.

Finally, and overriding every other emotion, was the cast-iron intent that he would acknowledge Jay as his son.

Of course, right now he had none of the finer details of that private vow worked out - simply a promise he’d made to himself. The hows and whys, well they would take a bit of planning. First and foremost, he needed to break the news to Dorothea. After that - always assuming he survived her wrath - he could worry about the rest of the world finding out. But Dorothea had to know first, and that was the toughie.

How did you tell your wife of twenty years - give or take - that you fathered a child with another woman? Fathered that child years before the first child she bore for you. He grimaced. Fathered that child at a time when you couldn’t even get it up with her, let alone make love to her. Jon sighed, gulping the last of the wine and immediately refilling his glass. How indeed?


The next morning, if they’d only known it, seemed to continue the contrasting lifestyles of the two of them, with Billie awake and out of bed just after six o’clock, bright and alert for the day. Jon, on the other hand, woke around nine, his brain fuzzed with hangover and his mood bleak. Not for any particular reason, though, except that, well, dammit, it was morning, and he just didn’t like mornings. He’d had almost five hours’ sleep, after sitting drinking wine and checking emails until somewhere near four o’clock. Whatever time the third bottle of wine had run dry on him.

Usually, at home, he held it down to two bottles in an attempt to appease Dot, but she wasn’t there and he was sort of celebrating. At least, that was how he justified it to himself. Celebrating the apparent recovery of his eldest son from a potentially severe injury. Not that he could really use that as an explanation to Dot if she called. Thank God for time differences. She’d called just about two in his morning, eight o’clock in Rome, and he’d been only just into the second bottle of wine, chatting with her for a while about how her trip was going and the fun Steph was having. Dot even asked about the young player who’d been hurt, since Jon had mentioned it to her the evening it had happened, and he was sober enough to remember to keep a tight rein on his tongue, telling her the kid had woken up and the doctors were happy he’d be fine. Laughing, Dot told him Stephanie would be pleased as she had a bit of a thing for the handsome young quarterback. That thought was almost enough to freak Jon sober again.

Stumbling into his bathroom, Jon took a long, luxuriously satisfying pee before stepping into the shower, soaping and shampooing, then rinsing off before gritting his teeth and turning the spray to icy needle jets, shocking his body awake and chasing away the final cobwebs of wine from his brain. Shivering and muttering curses, but feeling alive and alert, he stepped out, winding a towel around his waist before cleaning his teeth. Before leaving the bathroom, he as usual wiped moisturizer onto his face - hell, male grooming even caught up to Jersey boys, given enough time - then went in search of clothes.

Two minutes later, wearing baggy cargo pants and a faded Philly Soul t shirt, he was in the kitchen and pouring coffee. With a mug of coffee so strong it was damned near chewable in hand, he went to look for his sons, following the muted sounds of play along to the sitting room. They were about as angelic as three Bongiovis could be - Jesse playing one of his computer games, Jake building something complicated from Meccano and Romeo happily coloring one of his books with brightly mismatched crayons. By the look of it, he was designing a new shirt for his Uncle Richie, Jon thought, seeing the purple next to the green and the yellow border. The boy’s artistic style was nothing if not colorful.

“Hey guys. You had breakfast yet?”

“Daddy!” Romeo gave a wide grin, dumping crayons on the carpet as he got to his feet and charged at Jon.

Laughing at the spontaneous hug his knees were receiving, Jon ruffled the little one’s hair.

“Mornin’ buddy.” He chuckled, laying his mug on a table and reaching down to pick up his son. “How you doin’?”

“Good.” Romeo gave another grin. “Hungry.”

“Yeah?” Jon shifted him onto his hip, reaching for his coffee again. “You guys haven’t eaten yet, then?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Okay. Jess, Jakey, c’mon. Breakfast.”

Reluctantly, Jake left his complex construction of steel struts and bolts, and Jesse got distractedly to his feet, still flicking controls on his game.

“Leave that here.” Jon said sternly. “Save it and you can pick it up again after breakfast.”

Jesse sighed, the sound carefully regulated to voice his annoyance without crossing over into being insubordinate enough to land him in trouble. Trouble that would at the very least lose him the game for a day. Leaving the room, Jon looked back at Jake’s machine, grinning to himself as he remembered playing with an almost identical toy when he was a kid, though back then they were called erector sets. Probably before the word got too close to meaning something else to him, he thought with a wry grin.

In the kitchen, with hindrance from the three boys, Jon fixed breakfast for them all. Cereal, even he could manage. With three boys crunching their way through something frighteningly chocolately for this early, he just poured himself another mug of caffeine and perched his butt on a stool at the counter. Watching them, he briefly entertained an idea of taking them with him to the hospital to visit Jay, but then the idea of Billie walking in on that ‘family’ scene struck him, and he realised it probably wasn’t his brightest plan ever.

“Guys - I told you one of our Soul players got hurt, right?” He began, and got three nods in return.

“Uh-huh.” Jake swallowed the mouthful of cereal he was trying to talk around. “Jay - the junior quarterback. You said he got hurt in a bad tackle.”

Jon hid a smile at the technical terminology coming from the little boy. Maybe he overdid the football talk at home, if the kids knew all the right words.

“Yeah. That’s right.” Jon slugged coffee, blinking at the caffeine jolt even though he knew it was coming. “Well, he’s awake now, and it looks like he’s gonna be fine.”

“Great!” Jesse this time, continuing seriously. “Graz has been sidelined too long, he’s not fit enough right now, so we need the other QB fit.”

Definitely overdoing the technical stuff, Jon thought.

“Uh-huh. So, anyway, I’m thinking I’ll go see Jay again today. Y’know, his dad isn’t around, so me and your Uncle Richie have been kinda looking out for him.”

“Uh-huh.” Non-committal and distracted from Jesse, already thinking of his computer game again.

“You guys okay to stay here with Tina?”

“Uh-huh.” Jesse said again, wiping his mouth on his hand. “Finished. Can I go play my game now?”

Jon suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, nodding instead.

“Yep. Just put your……….thank you.” He didn’t even need to finish it, watching as Jesse took his plate and spoon and put them into the dishwasher.

A few minutes later, Jon was alone in the kitchen, the three boys back playing happily in the sitting room. Damn if sometimes the kids didn’t make him feel like a spare part in this family.