Penelope Chapter 7
Author's Note: I apologize for the delayed update. Now that I'm back from 4th of July vacation, I will be updating more frequently. Enjoy!
"Where do you think he could be?" Annie asked, raising her voice a little to be heard over the roar of the streets.
"I don't know!" Penelope roared back. They had just been to Johnny's rehearsal only to find that he had not showed up.
Annie dropped her off in front of the apartment. "I gotta go check on the new girl. Make sure she's not lost in the mean streets of Midtown. Tell me when you find Johnny."
"Will do. Thank you, Annie." Penelope waved her friend off before entering the apartment to search for her Johnny. Finding him nowhere, she was about to head off to his familiar haunts when she spied something on the piano stand. "Sheet music?" she wondered. After leafing through them, she slipped them into her bag and left.
***
"Drowning your sorrows?" a voice asked.
The scruffy man sitting in a dark corner of the Clover Deli Pub swung his head in the direction of the voice. "Hey…good to see you," he said, slurring a little.
"I was hoping I'd find you here," the reporter said, pulling himself up onto a seat. "Well, not exactly hoping to find you like this, but it's still better than—"
"The poker table?" Johnny interjected. "Yeah, well…I just chose the lesser of the two evils," he traced a finger around the rim of his beer mug.
"You want to tell me what happened?"
Johnny drained the rest of his mug and plopped it down with a thud before answering, "No."
"Okay. I respect that." Lemon settled himself down more comfortably and ordered a beer on tap for himself. Requesting a straw, he plunged it into the foamy liquid and sipped. Noisily. He sipped the entire mug in one go and then kept sipping, making an insipid draining noise. While he was doing this, he made a big show of not looking at Johnny.
"All right! All right!" the poor guy said at last. "It's Edward."
"Edward?" Lemon questioned, feigning surprise.
"Yeah. He…paid me a visit."
"Now why would he do that? You don't owe him money or something, do you?"
Johnny shot him a look. Lemon held up his hands. "Okay, okay, no wisecracks, I promise. Now go on."
So his companion spilled the beans about what Edward had said to him mere hours ago that had (figuratively) sundered him inside.
"What's that got to do with this?" Lemon asked, gesturing at the beer mug.
"Well, I thought I would…what's the word you used? 'Drown my sorrows' tonight before I get up the nerve to tell the woman that I love about how she deserves better than me and then leave her life forever."
Lemon didn't immediately raise his voice in objection to this. Instead, he looked thoughtful. Then, "Now tell me again, what makes you think you don't deserve Penelope?"
Johnny straightened up and looked serious. Counting off on his fingers, he said, "Well, first of all, I'm not rich. I'm, uh, definitely not going to be rich anytime soon. Secondly, I don't have any connections. Thirdly, living with me means that she has to work too hard. We're not destitute but she holds her job as a teacher and at the flower shop to make ends meet just so I can concentrate on my music. And who knows if that's ever to going to take off? Oh, and contrary to popular belief, I really AM NOT a blue blood. Never have been, never will be."
"And you think that being with Edward is really better than all of this?"
"No, I think he's an idiot, but he had one good point: Penelope deserves better than just the bare minimal. I don't like the thought of her being with him either, but he can provide better for her. Or maybe through him, she can meet someone. If I can't give her a better life, then at least I can free up her to find someone who can."
To his enormous surprise, Lemon laughed when he heard this. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…aw, whatever am I going to do with you?" he said, patting the aforementioned guy on the back with a hearty thump. Johnny turned to him, temper flaring just slightly.
"Hey," he growled. "If you're not here to help or to listen, then I suggest you go mock some other—"
"That's not what I meant," Lemon cut him off. "Listen. I ran into Edward today, too and do you want to know the real reason he's marrying her?"
The reporter proceeded to tell of his encounter with the blue-blood heir, finally finishing with, "And I thought his motives were less than honorable so I gave him a wrong address. Of course, I didn't think he'd figure it out that quickly. Now I'm not saying that all rich people are clone copies of Edward, but think of it this way: what if Penelope didn't want all that? What if all she wanted was you?"
"But how will I know that she's not really wishing for more? More that I can't give her?"
"Johnny, I know this girl and trust me, she does not want anything but you. Not to sound creepy, but I've been keeping tabs on this girl since she was born and you wouldn't believe the things she's been through. We're talking about a girl who grew up with everything: wealth, connections, all that money could buy, but she was locked up her whole life. Her freedom and you…are all she needs."
"You really think so?"
"Well, if you still doubt it, then answer me this: In all the time you two have been together, has she ever once complained?"
Johnny thought long and hard. Finally, he had to concede that she hadn't.
"Well, except for forgetting to water her plants," he admitted jokingly.
"But she's never complained about her two jobs or your work with music?"
The scruffy musician shook his head.
"Has she ever given any signs that she's losing interest in you or that she would rather be with someone else?"
Johnny noticeably brightened up at this and confidently affirmed in the negative.
"See?" said Lemon with a twinkle in his eye.
Johnny nodded.
The barman came by then and set down two new mugs of beer in front of them. "On the house," he said, half-smiling. Apparently, Johnny hadn't been the only one listening.
"And if you're still not sure, then I suggest you talk to Penelope herself," Lemon said as he picked up his mug. "Get it straight from her whether she would want the life you give her or something else." He said, wiping away foam from his mustache.
Johnny thought about this and abruptly, his head seemed to clear. Why didn't he talk to her about all this? Wouldn't that have been the most logical course of action? Soon after he realized this, Johnny made a mental note to come to Lemon more often for advice.
I knew it, a small voice in his head said triumphantly. I knew he would come around.
"How come you're so good at this?" Johnny asked suddenly.
"I used to be a tabloid reporter, remember? Prying into people's lives was what I was all about."
"No, I mean the advice giving."
"Oh, that. I just happened to pay attention and learned a lot along the way. Let me tell you something, celebrities and socialites may put on smiles for the camera, but you wouldn't believe how much conflict and self-doubt they have in their private lives."
"So—"
But Johnny's next query was cut off by a bickering couple that had just entered the pub. Their screaming and shouting match had turned heads on the street outside and then the hubbub was brought into the bar, almost shattering its relaxed atmosphere.
Man, I'm glad Penelope and I don't fight like that. Johnny thought. He looked closer and, with a start, he suddenly realized who the two people were…
