Chapter 39 - Sonny's

An hour later, Jon realized he couldn’t stop smiling. He was happy as a pig in shit.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this….normal, he mused. He had had anything but a “normal” day, both in terms of his whirlwind life as an international celebrity, and in comparison to what he assumed most people must experience day-to-day. All he knew was that he was completely relaxed, contented, and comfortable. And it had been a long, long time since he had felt that way.

Jon looked to his right, watching Cate as she engaged in animated conversation with Brandon and Mandy. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, the only hint of the effect of her first two beers. Her eyes sparkled and her ponytail bobbed as she laughed.

Jon took a long swallow of beer from his glass, then looked around the room. Now THIS is a joint! he thought approvingly, taking in the simple surroundings.

Sonny’s had been a local watering hole for cops and instructors for over 30 years. It sat just outside the Center’s back gate, off the two-lane highway in a grove of cypress trees. It was a large, boxy building that had once been an auto repair shop.

Sonny, a retired local sheriff’s deputy, had bought the place after the auto shop had folded. He renovated the building, adding to the front room a long pine bar, a decent-sized dance floor, and a small corner stage for live music or a deejay. The smaller back room had become the kitchen.

Sonny had turned the former garage bays into a massive game room, filled with pool tables, dart boards, and foosball and air hockey tables. In true southern honky-tonk style, the walls were covered with glowing neon beer signs, huge NASCAR and college football posters, and taxidermed fish and animals of various species. Dozens of fans hung from the high ceilings, their blades rotating lazily.

The ancient black-and-white patrol car parked under the sign at the entrance to the gravel lot clearly identified Sonny’s place as a “cop bar.” Though anyone was welcome at Sonny’s, only the bravest or most ignorant of BATs ever wandered into Sonny’s on a weekend, lest they encounter one or more of their instructors. Such a meeting inevitably turned into an interrogation as to why the BAT was not back in the dorm studying, or out doing PT, or pursuing some other training-related activity to show his or her dedication to protecting and serving the people of this great nation. An interaction of that sort was always fun for the instructors; not so much for the poor hapless BAT.

Cate had told Jon a little about Sonny’s on the drive over, and he had laughed at her description of the unwritten “no BATs allowed” rule. He was also a little relieved that he wouldn’t have to spend the night hiding under a hat and sunglasses, refusing drinks and pleas to sing.

Jon took another swig from his glass, draining it, and reached for the pitcher. He refilled his glass and looked around the table at the rest of the gang. Danny was on his left, talking across the table to Bobby and Troy. Steve was beside Danny, and Floyd sat at the end of the table, listening and nodding along. George was across from Jon, Mandy on his left. Brandon was seated at the end of the table opposite Floyd, between Mandy and Cate.

Jon turned his attention back to Cate, admiring her profile as she continued her discussion. As his eyes slid over her jaw and down her graceful neck, he noticed she had a little freckle just below her earlobe. He felt his pulse quicken as he thought about leaning over and nibbling at that little spot, just to see how it tasted. As if she could hear his thoughts, Cate glanced sideways at Jon. He pursed his lips slightly at her, and saw the flush on her cheeks darken.

Jon chuckled and sat forward in his chair, leaning in to join the conversation. When he shifted, his right leg brushed against Cate’s left, their knees pressing against each other. Cate closed her eyes briefly at the contact, her lips curving into a private little smile. She didn’t move her leg away.

Jon offered up his opinion on the topic at hand: the current baseball season. He quickly learned he was the sole Yankees fan at the table. When he pointed out that the Yanks were on the move in the A.L. East and A-Rod was on fire he was quickly ordered to “shut the fuck up” by Mandy, a rabid Red Sox fan. His Irish up, Jon started to argue with her but was quickly silenced when he felt Cate’s hand on his thigh. He stopped in mid-syllable and stared at Cate, completely forgetting his point.

Brandon, George and Mandy all continued chattering on about baseball, not noticing Jon’s distraction. Cate smiled sweetly at Jon’s surprised expression as she gently rubbed her palm over his taut, denim-covered quadricep. “Shhh.” Her lips silently formed the sound as she shook her head slightly, indicating that a Sox-Yanks argument with Mandy was one fight he shouldn’t take on. She gave him another little smile and Jon’s heart skipped a beat. He sat there, mute, as she left her hand resting on his leg and rejoined the conversation.

Jon took another drink of his beer, then slipped his right hand under the table, past the edge of the red and white checked vinyl tablecloth. He covered Cate’s soft hand with his own. She turned her palm sideways so Jon could entwine his fingers with hers. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and watched as the corner of her mouth curved upwards a little more.

George drew Jon back into the debate with a question about his opinion of this season’s Phillies pitching staff. But despite his interest in the conversation, Jon’s focus was distracted by the warmth of Cate’s hand in his. He couldn’t help himself – there was a fluttery little feeling in his stomach and his heart thumped wildly in his chest.

Jon felt like he was back in junior high, holding hands for the first time with a cute girl he met down the shore. He chuckled at himself, relishing the feeling. It was good to know he wasn’t so jaded by the trials and tribulations his fame had brought that he had forgotten the simple pleasure of innocent romance. Hearing Jon’s quiet little chuckle, Cate rubbed her thumb gently over his and gave him another sideways glance.

Cate finished her beer and was about to reach for the pitcher to refill her glass when she heard Floyd clear his throat, loudly and conspicuously. She grinned, knowing what was coming. The conversation paused as the others at the table looked expectantly at the Boss. Jon looked from face to face, wondering what was happening.

Floyd stood and nonchalantly flipped his FTB coin onto the table. “One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand…” he began to count in his rumbly Southern drawl.

Jon turned his gaze Cate, momentarily confused as she pulled her hand away from his under the table. She rose slightly from her chair, reaching into the front pocket of her jeans. Then he realized what was happening – the “coin check” Cate had explained to him back in her office. He grinned and shoved his hand into his pocket, withdrawing the coin she had given him.

There was a chorus of loud smacks as the instructors slapped their coins onto the table. Jon saw that all eyes were on him as he was the last to lay his coin down. He smiled proudly, then winked at Cate as a groan went up from the guys.

“No Fair!” whined Brandon. “How the hell did he know about this? Cate!” Brandon gave Cate a faux-angry look and she punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Wait! It only counts if it’s his coin!” Bobby announced. “He can’t use Cate’s spare!” Bobby reached across the table and picked up Jon’s coin to inspect it, expecting to see Cate’s name engraved on the metal disc.

Jon gave Bobby a smug look as surprise registered on Bobby’s face at the sight of the “JBJ” etched into the coin’s face. “Shit. Damnit, Cate!” Bobby muttered, placing the coin back on the table in front of Jon.

Floyd laughed and nodded approvingly. “Good girl, Catie,” he drawled. “Takin’ care of business.” He turned his attention to Jon and grinned. “See, Jon – I told ya you’d be fine in Cate’s hands.”

Danny snickered at Floyd’s choice of words. Cate reached behind Jon to smack Danny on the back of his head.

“Yes Sir,” Jon agreed, looking at Cate with a twinkle in his eye. “She’s taking real good care of me.”

“I’ll help you get the beer, Floyd,” Cate said, standing and gathering the pitchers at her end of the table. She emptied the remaining beer into glasses, then followed Floyd to the bar. She felt Jon’s eyes on her as she moved, and she smiled happily to herself.

“Sounds like things are goin’ good with your assignment, Catie,” Floyd said after they had handed over the pitchers to the bartender. “Jon’s had nothin’ but good things to say about what he’s learning, and from what I hear it went really well at the raid houses today.”

“Yeah,” Cate agreed. “He’s doing pretty well for somebody who has had zero exposure to law enforcement.” She smiled. “He’s working really hard. His shooting skills aren’t bad, but I had to kind of kick his ass to get him to engage in DTs.”

Floyd chuckled. “I heard. Can’t blame the poor fella, though. It’s not easy to knock a woman around, even if you know you have to.”

“Yeah…” Cate sighed softly, looking past Floyd at Jon. He was laughing along with George and Danny about something, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Ya know, Cate…” Floyd paused and Cate brought her eyes back to his friendly face. “He’s not a student.” Floyd’s voice was quiet and kind. He paused again, letting the meaning of his words sink in.

Cate blushed slightly and looked down at her boots. “Floyd…” she mumbled. Was it really that apparent to everybody that she was hopelessly attracted to Jon?

“Catie, Darlin’…I’ve known you since the beginning of your cop career. You were always one of my favorites.” Floyd smiled gently at Cate, remembering the day she had first walked into his classroom as a BAT, ready to kick ass and take names. “Hell, you know I think of you as my daughter. And I want nothin’ more out of this life than for my kids to be happy.” Floyd tilted his head toward the table where Jon sat. “He’s a good man, Catie. And he’s crazy about ‘cha.”

Cate brought her eyes back up to meet Floyd’s. “What do you mean?” she asked warily. “Has he said something about me?”

“He doesn’t have to say anything,” Floyd answered. “Catie Honey, you know I’ve been around a long damned time. I can read people. That’s how you get to be an old cop instead of a dead cop.” He grinned at the old saying. “Jonny Boy over there is falling ass-over-eyebrows for you.”

Floyd saw the shock on Cate’s face at his blunt observation, and he chuckled. He reached out to gently grasp Cate’s shoulder. “So, a little fatherly advice… don’t let your past keep you from havin’ a future.” Cate looked into Floyd’s kind eyes and felt a lump form in her throat.

“How can I think about a future when he’s leaving in a week?” she said hoarsely, confessing her fear. “And he’s not just going home…he’s going to make a freakin’ movie, then to record an album, then to travel around the world…” She swallowed hard, trying to make the lump go away. “I just don’t see how getting too close to him can end any way other than badly for me.”

“I don’t think you’re givin’ the boy enough credit, Catie,” Floyd replied gently. “He knows he has to leave. What makes you think that’ll be easy for him?”

Cate felt like she had been smacked in the forehead. She hadn’t considered how Jon felt about their time together coming to an end. She just assumed he would go on with his glamorous life and forget about her. Her gaze moved back to Jon and she saw him watching her, a sweet little smile on his lips. Suddenly she felt strangely liberated, as if a weight had been lifted from her heart.

Floyd saw the hopeful look creep into her eyes. He moved his hand from her shoulder and tapped Cate on the nose, like she was a child. “Darlin’, just keep an open mind and an open heart, and you’ll be okay.” Cate nodded and gave Floyd a little smile, grateful for his counsel.

The bartender finished refilling their pitchers, and Cate and Floyd carried them back to the table. Jon jumped up from his chair and pulled out Cate’s for her as she set the pitchers down on the table. She grinned as Jon’s chivalrous action brought a chorus of groans and “siddown!”s from the guys at the table.

“Shit, Man, don’t go doing stuff like that…” grumbled Danny. “She and the other one…” he waved his hand at Mandy. “…will expect all us guys to do that for them, all the time!”

“Sorry, Man… my Momma raised a gentleman,” Jon laughed. “I can’t help myself…I have to treat a lady right.” His eyes sparkled as they met Cate’s. She smiled back at him, taking her seat as the grumbling continued. Jon sat beside her and reached to pour her a glass of cold beer.

“Yeah, yeah… but Cate’s not a lady. She may be a female, a gal, a chick, a broad, even a woman……” Danny placed a teasing emphasis on the last word. “But she sure as hell ain’t no lady. She’ll tell that you herself. She doesn’t even own a damned dress. Do ya, Slick?” He raised his eyebrows at Cate, grinning as he challenged her.

“I most certainly do own a dress!” she retorted. “Just because I haven’t actually worn it, doesn’t mean I don’t own one!” She gave Jon a sheepish smile. “And he’s right… I’m no lady. I’m way too clumsy and socially inept to be considered a lady.” She chuckled and winked at Danny. “‘Broad’ is probably about right, eh Slick?”

“Yeah, you’re quite a Bro-ahd,” Danny laughed, drawing the word out to two syllables in his worst Jersey accent. “Okay, maybe a Dame,” he corrected himself. “Yeah, I’d say you’re a real Dame.”

Jon chuckled at the exchange. “Well, lady or not…” he said softly to Cate, leaning in close so the other guys couldn’t hear. “You’re quite a woman.” Cate smiled modestly and took a sip of her beer.