16 - Pushy People

“You already run your wife off?” Tony scoffed at his brother, shrugging out of his jacket and settling into the uncomfortable hospital chair. “Why does a fifty-year-old man need a damn babysitter in the hospital, anyway?”

“I’m forty-nine and fuck you.”  The private room was dark, save the eerie blue glow coming from the small television hanging over the hospital bed.  Its harsh lighting made the scowl on Jon’s face seem even fiercer, and the lines at his eyes deeper.  “You’re lucky I convinced her she was too tired to stay and hear about your ‘date’.”

“Doesn’t explain why you can’t stay by yourself.”

Jon flipped the station from news to an infomercial to a canned sitcom.  “Because I can’t sleep, and I’m cranky as hell.  It’s my way of being considerate to the nursing staff.  If you’re here, they don’t have to talk to me and I sure as hell don’t have to be nice to you.”

“God, where’s that Humanitarian of the Year application I’ve been meaning to fill out for you?” he snorted, sliding the phone from his pocket.  Lilah’s message had come through on the cab ride, but he hadn’t replied to it yet. 

“Who the fuck are you texting at two-thirty in the damn morning?”

[2:10 AM]TONY: It’s all good Bluegrass - TBJ

Laughing, Tony finished typing his message before answering, “It’s not 2:30 on the East Coast.”

Jon’s peevishness was entertaining.  Sure, he was sorry his brother was in pain, but it was his own fault if he wouldn’t take the meds to make himself feel better.  Advil be damned.  If Tony was cut open, he wanted whatever they were willing to shoot him up with – at least for a day or two.

“Well I know you’re not texting our dear mother, since she hates to text.  You’ve spent weeks with Matt, so who else does that leave?”  When Tony merely laughed again, Jon accused him, “You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

It was going to be a lonnnnng night unless Tony laid out some ground rules in a hurry. 

“Look, Big Brother…  I will happily sit here as long as you need me, but back the fuck off on the nosy questions.  I had a couple of drinks, but I’m not drunk, and it’s none of your business who I’m texting.”

[2:11 AM]LILAH: Thank you, Jersey.  Good night.  Again. :)

“It’s that Lilah broad, isn’t it?  You got laid tonight, otherwise you wouldn’t have that cocky grin on your face.”

Shoving the phone back into his pants pocket, Tony sighed deeply, looking for a patience he didn’t feel.  Normally, he would lay into his brother until they were both happily yelling at one another.  Tonight he took into consideration Jon’s state of pain, and the late hour at the hospital, and relented.  A bit.

“Again, none of your fuckin’ business,” he reiterated blandly.  “How’s your knee?”

“It hurts.  Distract me.  Tell me what you found out about her. Is she a rock band terrorist?” he mocked, poking fun at Dorothea’s earlier speculation.

Tony shook his head and crossed his legs, draping his hands over his gut.  He was gonna have to do something about that eventually.  “No, she’s not a rock band terrorist.”

“Then what’s her story?”

How did he explain that he’d basically spent an entire day and night with her and still didn’t have the answer to that particular question?  Better yet, that the answer didn’t seem quite as urgent as it once had?

“She’s a techie teacher who likes gadgets.  I’m guessing that’s why she’s into the video thing.”

“And..?”

“And… she likes food.”  Damn, did she like food.  “That’s about it.”

Jon muted the television and angled his body toward the side of the bed where Tony was sitting.  “The bullshit stonewalling might work with other people, but do you really think it’s gonna fly with me?  I know there’s no way you spent all day and night with her and found out nothing.”

Rubbing an absent hand over his goatee, Tony kicked his feet up on the edge of the hospital bed.  It had been years since he talked to his brother about a woman.  Since the divorce from Anouk, as a matter of fact, and not much then.  He’d never been one to spill his guts, and he sure couldn’t see it happening now.

“I didn’t interrogate her like the damn Gestapo, if that’s what you mean.  We chatted over dinner and drinks, and she seems okay.  I’m not too worried about having her in my space under the stage.”

Jon was quiet, staring at him for a long minute.  Tony wasn’t too worried about it, because the lighting in the room was so bad, he knew nothing was visible beyond the reflection of the TV in his glasses. 

“Don’t start fucking this girl,” Jon finally came out with, speaking slowly and deliberately.  “You still don’t know what she wants, and I don’t need any psychos with that kind of access to me.”

“Jesus, Jon.  Arrogant much?” He knew the warning was a valid point, and there was a lot of history to back it up, but it hit a raw nerve for Tony.  Lilah wasn’t like that.  She had managed to get behind his defenses tonight and he didn’t want her to be like that.

“What?  You know crazier shit has happened.  This one may be more creative than most by looking for a back way in.  Keep your guard up.  That’s all I’m sayin’.”

So now he wasn’t just a way to get close to his famous sibling, he was a ‘secret back door’ into the ‘circle’, or some such crap.  Tremendous. 

As ridiculous as the notion sounded in his head, it hit the right chord of doubt with Tony.  Maybe he had made a mistake in liking her.  God knew his judgment when it came to women wasn’t always the best, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been used that way.  Usually he didn’t care because he knew the lay of the land from the get-go, but Lilah had almost convinced him that she was different.

Jon’s cloud of cynicism was making  Tony second and third guess her now. 

Angel kisses or not, I don’t need the aggravation and suspicion eating at me. 

“Why don’t you lay down and go to sleep before I decide to knock your gimpy ass unconscious?”

“You and what army, ya out-of-shape pussy?”

“I don’t need an army, you smug bastard.  I can still do my job with a broken hand.  You can’t.  Now shut the hell up and unmute the TV.  I’m through talking about Lilah Bennett.”

Jon pushed the button, bringing the sound of tinny laughter into the room while mumbling, “That woman is gonna be trouble.  Mark my fuckin’ words.”

✧✧✧

Lilah looked up from her phone just in time.  She was tapping out quick emails to Morgan, Angel and Jo to tell them she had arrived safely in Istanbul when she spotted the bright orange ribbon that identified her suitcase.  Carefully tracking its progress, she sent off her last email while waiting for it to make its way around airport baggage claim carousel.    

In making her move to hoist it from the belt, she collided with another traveler who was swooping in to claim a big, black duffel bag.

“Excuse me,” she apologized, springing back out of the man’s way and watching helplessly as her suitcase decided to take another lap.  Lilah sighed, hoisting her laptop bag onto her shoulder and turned to the man who had actually gotten his bag.

“My bad,” the eerily familiar American-accented voice intoned, setting her skin to tingling.  “Which one and I’ll grab it for ya.”  When she saw the TBJ Godfather tattoo peeking out from under his left shirt sleeve, she knew why. 

It was Tony.

She hadn’t seen him since that night in the Dublin hotel hallway, and the few friendly text messages she sent in the last five days had all gone unanswered.  Upon finding out about his snubs, Morgan had dutifully referred to him everything but a Jersey boy, and the sweet Angel had cussed him while still encouraging Lilah to be patient and see what happened in Turkey.  Jo…  Well, she hadn’t bothered mentioning him to Joanna, finding it less confrontational to stick to topics like cheesecake and Irish stew.

“That’s okay, I can get it.”

His head snapped up at – she guessed – another unusual accent in this part of the world.  “Bluegrass.  I didn’t know you were on my plane.”

“And I didn’t know you were on mine.  How are ya, Anthony?”  

Lilah crossed her arms over her waist and, silently cussing her re-emerging nervousness, kept her eye on the bouncing orange ribbon as an excuse not to look his way.    In his absence, she’d relived that damn kiss over in her mind a thousand times.  Now that he was close enough to breathe on, she was finding it hard to breathe.  

You’re so stupid, Lilah Jane. 

His duffel slipped easily onto his shoulder and one hand pushed into his pants pocket.  A second later, he was haphazardly spinning the strike wheel on a green Bic lighter. 

“I’m okay.  You sure you don’t want me to grab that for you?”

“I’m used to fendin’ for myself.  Thank ya, anyway.” 

Situating the laptop bag between her spread feet, she got into position to latch onto the handle of her suitcase.  With one, only slightly awkward, motion, it was lifted free and tumbled to the tile floor.

“I was gonna text you today and see which hotel you're staying at so I can send over your pass.”

The telescopic handle extended easily at her push of the button and she shimmied the laptop onto it, ensuring that it wouldn’t topple off as she walked. 

“Oh, you’re still letting me backstage?  I wasn’t sure.”  Wheeling the case in a tight circle, she went toward the exit that looked most likely to have transportation, tossing over her shoulder almost as an afterthought, “I’m at the Hippodrome.” 

“Is there a reason I wouldn’t be letting you backstage?”

Lilah drew to an abrupt stop outside the automatic doors and turned to look him in the face, noticing the pronounced puffiness around his eyes.  “You ignored all my texts this week.  I thought maybe you changed your mind.”

“You texted?”   She heard foreign voices calling along the taxi line, and his attention shifted somewhere to the left.  “I didn’t know.  I’ve been having trouble with my phone.”

Tony was lying.  She didn’t know why, but he was.  The way he was tumbling the lighter end over end in his hand was the only visible sign of discomfort, but she didn’t need the proof of his dishonesty.  She could feel it, and mentally dismissed herself from the situation.

That’s fine.  Whatever.

“Sorry to hear that.  Maybe you can find someone here to take a look at it.”  Her luggage kicked back into motion and, sweeping through the automatic glass door, she immediately signaled the nearest taxi driver and informed him of her destination. 

“TBJ!  You comin’, man?” 

Lilah and Tony both spun their heads toward the front of the taxi line around to find an impatient Mike Rew’s face peering their way.

“Gimme a sec!”  He whirled back around to grab Lilah’s elbow before she could sink into the backseat of her own transportation.  “There will be an envelope waiting for you at the registration desk first thing in the morning.  I’ll put instructions on where and when to come.  Okay?”

She didn’t need this…  Not heartache, exactly, but…  Being made to feel like a huge imposition.  Lilah embarked on this journey with the heart-felt belief that this was her destiny.  Now she felt like a stupid rube.  If this was meant to be, she shouldn’t have to fight for it tooth-and-nail. 

“Look,” she sighed, ready to admit defeat.  “If you hate the idea that much, I won’t go where I’m not wanted.  You don’t have to do this.”

His smile was both unexpected and pulse-jolting.  “I know.  Just pick up the damn envelope.”

Every bit as suddenly, Tony dipped his head and brushed his lips across hers.  The kiss was over so quickly that Lilah wasn’t sure it even happened.  The only real proof she had was the lingering tingle in her toes.

“See ya at the stadium, Bluegrass.”