Chapter 76: Drummer Boys Reflect on Love. Everyone's.

A/N: THis chapter was so long I broke it up. Ronna and Varric's song was chosen by our superfan @MmmWhatever--At Last--perfect choice! It was featured in the header on the previous chapter. The song featured above-Moonlight Serenade-- is the one Leed and Ashlynn dance to in this chapter. I'm sure it did't look quite like this but I imagine Leed had danced to it before and managed to show Ashlynn off a bit, wink!

Bodie

Varrick and my mother are having their first dance—to At Last by Etta James, excellent choice—as the rest of us look on from tables. They have eyes for only each other. I keep finding myself amazed at the look on her face.

I mean, yeah, I've come to accept over the last year that she was falling in love with him, but he just proposed two months ago. The engagement has been short and the feelings between them seem to expound every day.

Riley drops abruptly into an empty chair. "Have you spoken to Row today?"

"Naw. Why isn't she here, anyway?"

"I don't know," he says with irritation. "Her photo shoot in New York wrapped this morning. This afternoon she said her flight was delayed but that she was hoping to arrive before the wedding. I haven't heard from her since."

"She probably forgot a charger."

I don't say this to Riley, but as much as I love Row she doesn't usually travel alone and she can be a little bit...forgetful, when it comes to handling the practical details.

His grin softens. "You're right. I'm always the one who charges both our phones at night." He texts rapidly. Probably telling Ariadne to add a backup battery charger to all Row's hotel riders from now on.

The man treats Row like a princess. Not that there is anything wrong with it, but she's pretty much already a princess, and he's not doing her any favors, doing every little thing for her.

I guess I look at some of Row's habits and realize it comes from being so privileged and her parents allowing her to focus on her music so young. She missed developing a lot of practical life skills. I'm trying not to let that happen to Darius.

Because, now Riley is having to unwind some of Row's more spoiled behaviors.

Riley went home from the hospital with Row and never left Matt's house. Several times he asked her to move into his apartment with him, but she always talked him out of it. "It's so nice here, a private place, our own pool, maid servicem and a cook, and a PA, and the pool guy, and..."

Eventually, he gave up his apartment, but recently he's given her an ultimatum. Pick a house and one full time housekeeper they can afford in the next three months, or he will pick one, because he's tired of living with his sin-laws.

Row sends me pictures of the houses she's toured. Not a single place more than five minutes from her parents, which means nothing under fifteen million, and unfortunately that's the one thing Riley won't budge on—the budget.

I don't what their actual budget is, but I do know that Riley, despite managing our millions, makes a somewhat more modest six figure income and is still working on accruing his own millions, choosing to invest most of his capital back into his business.

I also know that Row's trust fund isn't available to her until she's thirty, and Strut's doing great, but the big bank takes a few years to get rolling, and Row is a big spender who manages her money by using her debit card until it gets declined and then switches over to Matt's AMEX until her card miraculously starts "working again."

Half the time when she invites me to lunch, she just gives both cards to the waiter and says, "Try the red one first and then the black."

Casually. Like it's normal that she's filthy rich but has no actual money in her bank account, and has to back it up with Matt's emergency card. Which has no spending limit, of course.

Riley told her if they are moving in together like an actual grown-up couple, it's time to give Matt back his credit card and start managing her own income, which is substantial to almost anyone. Except apparently, a billionaire's daughter who has never given any thought to the actual price of anything.

Even I gave her a lecture recently. I had a free afternoon in LA, after doing some promotional stuff with Evangeline. Row and I agreed to meet for coffee. While I was getting our coffee order, she dashed next door to "run a quick errand" and bought twenty thousand dollars of La Perla underwear in a five minute impulse spree.

She was chewing on the straw of her frap while we sat outside the coffeeshop, looking at the receipt, fretting over the fact that she had exceeded her "trial" shopping budget for "incidental" expenditures for the month.

"Riley said the mortgage on the houses I've been looking at would be seventy five grand a month and that's actually like ten times what he really wants to spend. So I guess twenty thousand, that's a lot to spend on underwear at one time, huh?" She looked at me.

I laughed when I realized she actually expected me to have an opinion that wasn't "Duh."

"Twenty thousand dollars is a lot to spend on underwear for a decade, Row."

"Well, this is more like...outerwear," she protested, gesturing down the side of her slit shirt where one of her bras is visible.

"Sexy," I agreed. "But you do realize you are wearing a fifteen dollar concert t-shirt with it, which is much closer to the kind of money that real people spend on clothes? Maybe twenty to forty dollars for a shirt, less than a hundred bucks for jeans, fifteen bucks for department store sunglasses, maybe I dunno, forty bucks or so for a decent bra. Not..." I grab the receipt to check, "Three hundred and buying fifteen at once."

"That's two weeks worth. I hate laundry," she says.

"You do your own laundry?" I ask surprised.

"Well, I hate picking it up and putting it in the laundry basket," she says defensively.

"I'm just going to ignore how spoiled you are with staff, and focus on this one bill here.Forty pairs of panties at a hundred bucks a pop—"

"I lose them. In limos."

"TMI. And you bought three bathrobes for seven hundred dollars each, and three silk chemise for the same price-"

"Oh shut-up, so I went a little overboard, okay?" she snapped. "But you should see these dumps Riley wants me to live in." She pulled up a hundred year old Hollywood mansion down the street from her parents house. "It's actually way worse than these pictures, though. It's crumbling. Like practically condemned."

I took her phone from her and flipped through the pictures. "It just needs a little work—some roof repairs, some paint, do something about that cracked pool, maybe some new wiring and a new kitchen. But for less than two million in your parents' part of LA? That's a great price if you're dead set on staying in your parent's neighborhood. You could make it super nice for another five hundred grand and cut your monthly mortgage...by like...eighty percent from those compounds you are looking at..."

She grabs her phone back. "You sound like Riley. It's a dump. I saw a rat when I looked at it."

"You ain't afraid of a mouse," I kicked her foot.

"That's not the point. I'd prefer they don't gnaw on me in my sleep."

Somebody overheard my lecture about the LaPerla bill, and it made TMZ, of course. Penny-pincher Soundcrush Drummer and spoiled del Marco princess butt heads over lingerie spending spree.

"Did you guys find a house yet?" I ask Riley.

"No," he says dryly. "Complicating negotiations is that bastard," he tips his head toward Matt, laughing with some of my uncles, "who proposed at dinner last week that he would buy her any house she wanted. His stipulation? She had to take the "Dev Deal" and contractually agree to forfeit her trust fund if she marries before thirty."

"Maybe he was just joking?" Marley asks with a smile.

"He had the contract delivered to my office the next day." Riley says dryly.

"Did she sigh?" Marley asks amused.

"No, actually. She shredded it and stuffed it in his favorite boots and told him he could keep his damn money and to stop trying to run her life. We spend the night at a hotel. The next day, he cut off her credit card without telling her. She wasn't able to pay for something or another. She crawled into his lap that night and apologized, and told him how much she appreciated all the things he does for her. He restored her credit and she resumed touring houses I can't afford," he mutters.

"Surely he doesn't think you are after Row's money," Marley says, frowning across the room at Matt.

"No, I don't think so, not in the nefarious sense. But he also doesn't approve of the idea of me managing her personal funds. That hearkens back to his original complaint regarding us, which is simply that a boyfriend-slash-manager has too much control."

"Which is why he wants to buy the house, so I can make no complaint about her overspending. He doesn't understand that I don't want him to buy us a house nor am I trying to take control of her money. I'm simply trying to teach her how to manage it herself so she can pay her half of the bills for all the lovely things she wants us to have," he mutters.

His face brightens for a second as his phone alerts then pinches in confusion. "She's in Atlanta, but she says she acquired a rental car and is stuck in traffic. Why the bloody hell would she do that? There was driver waiting for her."

He stands up, putting phone to ear as he tries to call her. He wanders away.

I smile at Marley, rubbing her thigh a little beneath her lace navy dress and she returns my smile and says lightly, "We got ninety-nine problems..."

"But money ain't one," I agree. Despite the money I've poured into Dharma, our personal accounts are not a problem between us. We both keep track of the finances pretty well.

Matt and Marianne are excellent parents but Matt's a freakin' billionaire and money is the one thing he's never wanted to waste his time lecturing his kids about, because barring some kind of world order collapse, they are always going to have a fuck ton of it.

I look over at my kid. Of course I want to give him everything, but I want him to understand the value of the life he's growing into.

Darius and Gwen are sitting just beside Marley and I. They are fifteen and unbelievably they are still dating...which is like a lifetime to teenagers.

Gwen's normally flying hair is all wound up in some kind of elaborate dutch braids and she's wearing a satiny spaghetti strap dress with a low back. Mac's stylist did her makeup tonight and she looks fifteen going on twenty-one. She has her elbows on the table, staring dreamily at my mom and Varrick. "Aren't they just...beautiful?"

"I've seen beautiful-er," my son says from his place beside her, reaching out to run his fingers down her bare back.

She turns to him, and the look she gives him?

It's lust. Ain't no other way to describe it. Even on a fifteen year old girl, it's perfectly readable. Darius' grin goes crooked and his eyes rake what he can see of her all the way down to her toes.

Then he gives her the rock star look. He leans in and whispers something we can't hear. Gwen wets her lips. She whispers something back. Darius moves his chair closer to hers and his hand drops a little lower around her back. It comes to rest gripping her upper hip.

"Oh boy," I mutter. The look Marley and I give each other in response to the look Gwen and Darius are giving each other?

It ain't lust. It's abject terror.

We aren't the only ones that saw their sexy exchange. Or maybe Adam has some kind of high tech thermal reader that can feel detect the heat rising between these two because he and Mac are making their way over.

"You know the thing about weddings..." Adam says casually, pulling a chair out for Mac directly across from us, and sitting quickly beside her. "It's so crazy how they make people..." he turns to Mac for help.

"Horny." She says bluntly. Adam rolls his eyes, but he's done better than me. I spit my sparkling water across the table, spraying Mac.

"Butters, gross," she says, snapping a napkins and wiping off. I snicker. Before she had Lennon, Mac would have been horrified at what just happened, but I guess she's experienced worse accidents in the course of Lennon's nearly two years. She looks at Gwen and Darius.

"So...you know what I was sitting over there thinking? I have made so many bad romantic choices at weddings. Especially hotel weddings. Nearly all of them involving this guy," She slaps Adam in his abs. "Like three times in LA that first year that Adam and I weren't even talking, we hooked up at weddings. Where we brought other dates! Adam would walk by me, drop a key card on my table and I would ditch my date without a word and meet Adam by the elevator. But Adam and I? We didn't speak on the way up, or during, or on the way down. Now I ask you, does that sound like love? Nope. I mean, yeah I was in love with him, but I wasn't ready to be in love with him, then. All that was...was just wedding induced...animalism."

Now Adam is giving Mac a heavy-lidded look. "Animalism, huh? I like that word, Shorty."

"Adam, focus," Mac gestures with her champagne flute to Gwen and Darius.

He clears his throat and leans across the table. "Right. I think what Mac was trying to say was...it's easy to get carried away by the romantic atmosphere at a wedding and do something you haven't planned to do."

Over the last year, Gwen has lost some of her shyness around our crew. She rolls her eyes at Adam. "Every time Darius and I see each other, all four of you plus my parents think you are acting supportive and cool and not telling us not to have sex, when you are actually constantly butting into our relationship and telling us exactly that—not to have sex. Do you know how old that gets? I mean really? So here's your status update you are always fishing for," she looks around at us. "We're not having sex. Yet. Or tonight. Darius, tell them."

"We're not having sex. Yet. Or tonight," Darius repeats dully. It's hard to tell if he's embarrassed by the conversation or disappointed by Gwen's declaration.

Both, I think.

"Excuse me, but I don't want to talk about this anymore," she says, rising abruptly, and walking out the door behind us to the external balcony. Darius gives us all a glare, but he rises with somewhat less hostility than her, and glides coolly after her. We watch him take his coat off and put it around her thin dress. She slips her arms into it, and they lean on the railing, some feet apart, quietly watching the Atlanta world below.

"Well, you fucked that up," Mac says to Adam abruptly.

"I fucked it up? You did most of the talking!" he says, amused. He watches them. "Besides, I think it was mission accomplished. It definitely destroyed the jump-your-bones-vibe they were throwing on each other."

Marley sighs and puts down her champagne. "Gwen is right, you guys. We do this every time they are together now."

"Because they are gonna have sex if we don't!" Adam says indignantly. "I mean, they are like, totally in love."

"Well, would it really be the worst thing?" Marley asks. "Clearly they've proven they are responsible and trustworthy and mature in every way I can tell. Why would you think they wouldn't handle their sex life in the same mature way?"

"You really think they are ready?" I ask her hesitantly. "Fifteen is so young, Marley...I didn't get it right. I mean, like you say...maturely. Safely."

"No, I would prefer they wait," she agrees, leaning back in her chair with her champagne glass. "But I'm just being realistic. They've been dating almost two years. It's going to happen at some point, and Gwen has a point. We've gotten into a habit of almost harassing them about it. It needs to stop. I mean, Adam you hate it when people tease you about your sex life."

"That is true, Brah," I concede, grinning at Adam.

"Fuck." He mutters. "Fine, but all I'm saying is...if she turns up pregnant on my watch Luke will probably come after me with a shotgun, and I expect Bodie to jump in front," Adam grins.

I fist bump him. "I got you, brother."

Marley is looking at the dance floor now, watching the couples. She's wearing the same dreamy expression as Gwen was. We all follow her gaze.

Trace and Leed are taking the Ballard sisters for a spin to Moonlight Serenade.

Leed danced to this with a partner in a showcase in college, so he's bringing the full Fred Astaire as Ashlynn beams and twirls and floats on the breeze of his lead in a modest deep green dress with a full skirt. They look timeless.

But Kat and Trace are the thing that has caught Marley's attention, I think. Trace prefers not to dance, especially to slow romantic songs like this, but tonight he seems perfectly at ease, like there is no other person in the room.

His face is open as he carries the conversation and the dance. Something about the way he's enraptured Kat reminds me of their very early days together, when Trace first fell in love with her, before all the business of LA life and the disappointments of the last couple of years squeezed them.

He stops speaking, and whatever he said prompts a few sentences of reply from her. She has one hand on his shoulder but she's gesturing with her other, like she's picturing in the distance. He agrees and adds to the conversation with more animation.

"I think they are planning their own wedding," Mac says dreamily. "It will be soon, don't you think? Maybe next year, when she graduates."

"Maybe," Adam agrees, watching them. Then catching Marley's face, he changes the subject of weddings. "But just like with D&G out there, things happen when they are supposed to happen, I guess," he smiles at Marley. "Some things you can't fight, and some things you can't rush."

Marley drains her glass. "Well said, Adam," she says with more steadiness than I think she feels. "Bodie's dance with his mother is next, I'm going to cue the photographer." She pats my shoulder without really looking at me.

I sigh and eye Adam's scotch, wishing for a glass to ease the disappointment and frustration that is itching under the surface between Marley and me.

I won't have one, though. I have three months truly clean—off all substances, even the methadone. It feels good, finally being in control of my own sobriety. I won't go backwards, but it doesn't mean I don't still wish for a drink sometimes to take edge the off.

I rise, too. "Showtime," I wink.

I swing out to the balcony. I bow to Gwen.

"Sorry, darlin'."

She sighs. "You didn't do anything. It was Mac and Adam."

"I didn't do anything this time," I grin at her. "We're all going to work on not being such hypocritical helicopter rock star parents."

"Good luck with that," Darius snorts.

I slap in on the arm. "It's go time."

He nods and reaches for Gwen's hand and we all stroll back inside. Darius takes the jacket from her, puts it back on, and joins the small band at the baby grand piano. He does a smooth dedication announcement and introduces our mother-son dance, and then flows into Elton John's Your Song while my mother beams and cries all over me as I sing along quietly to her while we dance.

It takes me some time to finally coax my own woman out on the dance floor. Like usual, she's busy making sure everything is running well behind the scenes. But eventually, I won't take no for an answer.

"You look beautiful tonight," I tell her with my best smile. The one I used to give her so long ago, when I was working hard to get her to like me, during our sober companion days.

Her fingers trace my smile. "You always look beautiful, Rock Star."

I twirl her. "What do you want to do for New Year's? We haven't even talked about it."

Long term plans are hard to make, but short term plans to give her something happy to look forward to? I can do.

She smiles. "I want to go somewhere quiet and pretty. Maybe a mountain cabin. And I want you to make love to me while the New Year is ringing in. And I want to spend the rest of the time with a book. Or maybe in a hot tub."

"Simple goals, considering our resources, Jasmine. Almost too easy," I sway her a little more then dip her a little as she laughs.

"We need simple and easy," she murmurs in my ear as I pull her close. "It's been a helluva year."

"You're right. That's what we'll do then. We'll get lost in each other in the woods, for as long as you want."

She props her arms on my shoulders, and rubs my close cropped head. "I love you, Bodie Jamison."

"I love you, too, baby. And I love your idea of setting a simple and easy intention for the next year. It's perfect."

I don't think it will turn out that way, but one can always dream.

We dance close for a few more songs, sinking into each other and the happy idea of some time off, alone together. Some of the unspoken sadness between us lifts. The night feels like it is a happy ending as we all say good-bye to my mother and Varrick, who are heading to the Bridal suite for their own perfect ending to a perfect day.

Unfortunately, as Marley, Darius, Gwen and I make our way out to the limo that will take us home, I get this bad feeling that happy endings and simple plans will soon be forgotten.

Happy Wedding Varrick and Ronna! Buckle up boys and girls, it's about to get bumpy...