Chapter 34

Jon went back to the Chevelle, climbing in and starting the engine. Before he drove away, he looked up at Sara’s front window, seeing her standing there watching him. She waved, then put one hand behind her ear, pantomiming that she couldn’t hear the engine. Jon grinned and slammed his foot on the gas pedal, making the engine road, and he saw Sara grin and nod her approval. He waved to her then drove off, accelerating just a little harder than usual to make the car snarl loudly.

Sara smiled as she turned away from the window - she really did love cars like that. And when they were being driven by a gorgeous man like that, she was a goner.

Jon drove to the hotel to meet Richie, aware of the stares that the car attracted in a city full of dark sedans and the ubiquitous yellow taxis. Turning into the hotel garage, Jon saw the valets look over, then one took advantage of his seniority, stepping forward to open the door for Jon and claiming the privilege of driving the Chevelle.

“Good evening, Mr Bongiovi.” This was one of the few places where people called him by his true name. “Good to see you again, sir.”

“You too, Billy. How’s the family?”

That was another reason the valets loved him - not only did he drive some kick-ass cars, Jon never forgot a face or a name.

“They’re very well, sir. Thank you for asking.” Diplomatically, given what he’d recently read in the press, Billy made no mention of Jon’s own family but just got into the car and drove her carefully to a safe spot.

Jon carried his small bag over to the elevator and rode it up to the penthouse, calling Richie to let him know he was on his way. When the elevator door opened, Richie already had the suite door open, waiting, and Jon was pleased to see he looked really well - fit and healthy and ready to cause trouble.

“Jon! Jesus, it’s good to see ya!” Richie grabbed Jon in a bear hug, slapping his back, then stepping back to study him. “How are ya, man?”

“I’m good, Rich. How about you? You’re looking good.”

“Me? Hell, I’m fine. I dumped her, remember? Shoulda done it months ago.” He looked at the expression on Jon’s face, and beat him to it. “I know - you all told me, but you know me! What can I saw? I was in love.”

Jon snorted at that as they went into the penthouse.

“No, man - you were in lust. Thinkin’ with your dick as usual.”

“Probably.” Richie agreed with a laugh, then turned serious. “So what’s happening with you and Dot? I can’t believe, after all these years, you two are finished. Can’t you give it another shot?”

“Rich - I don’t really want to talk about it. Dot’s got a new guy, and she’s happy. The kids are okay, and that’s all that matters to me.” Jon dropped his bag on the floor, going over to the bar for a drink. “So - what’s the plan, then?”

“Hold on - back up a minute, Jon. Dot’s got another guy? Jesus - she was cheating on you?”

“Yeah - she’s been seeing somebody else.” Jon laughed at Richie’s stunned expression, recalling Sara’s reaction when he’d first found out. “C’mon - not like I’ve never done it, is it? We honestly are cool with this, though. We talked it out, and we’re both happy, Richie.”

Richie found it hard to believe Jon was taking this so calmly, but when he looked at him again, he could see that Jon really did mean it. Actually, Jon looked kinda happy himself, and Richie wondered about that for a second, then decided to let it drop. When he wanted to be, Jon was just as stubborn as Richie himself, so he wouldn’t be able to pressure any more details out of him until Jon was ready.

“Okay, bro. If you’re happy, that’s great. So, the plan. Well, I thought we could just head out to some of our old hunting grounds……..see what trouble we can get into.”

Jon poured himself some red wine as he nodded in agreement.

“So long as we can eat somewhere, I don’t mind. Oh, and we’re expected over at the photographer’s tomorrow lunchtime.”

“Who? Ah, yeah - your new best friend.”

“What?!”

“The one you gave a ride home to. What’s her name, anyway?”

Jon’s blood pressure dropped a little again as he realised Richie was just kidding him about his slip of the tongue on the phone.

“Sara. Sara Holland. She’s pretty good. Nice lady, too. Great personality.” Jon deliberately picked the usual back-handed compliment reserved for people who didn’t have much else going for them, mainly because he wanted to see Richie’s face the next day when he met her.

“Holland…..I think I’ve seen some of her work, actually. She is good. Guess I’d better not be too hungover then - she’s good, but she’s not a miracle worker.”

They finished their drinks then Jon showered and changed and they were ready to go, heading out to a nearby restaurant, where the maitre d’ put them in the VIP area to let them eat in peace, especially when he saw the female heads turning as they walked in. Now that it was public knowledge both the main members of Bon Jovi were free for the taking, they noticed a lot of hair flicking and tugging at clothing as they walked to their table, smiling pleasantly but not speaking to anyone, hearing the murmuring of the girls they passed.

Over dinner, they caught up on each other’s lives, but Jon never found the right moment to mention Sara. The split with Denise really seemed to be good for Richie, and he was drinking wine sparingly, no longer knocking back vodka, but Jon didn’t say anything - Richie knew how he felt about Denise, and there was no point going over it all again. It was over, that was what mattered, and hopefully now Richie could get back on track.

Richie paid the check, making a joke about Jon having more alimony payments now than he did, and they headed back to the bar at the Four Seasons, one of Jon’s favourite haunts. Of course, the fact that they were staying there helped too - not so far to stumble back to bed. As they left the restaurant, a few of the bolder girls came over to ask for autographs, and one stuffed a slip of paper into Jon’s pocket. Outside, he took it out, finding her name and phone number, and Richie raised an eyebrow when Jon crumpled the paper and dropped it into a trash can without a second thought.

“Uh - buddy - you forgetting you’re a free man now?”

“Am I?” Jon said enigmatically, as they arrived at the Four Seasons and made for the bar.

Many hours, and quite a few bottles of wine later, Jon and Richie managed to free themselves from the crowd of acquaintances, people they vaguely knew, and the obligatory skinny, big-breasted blondes, staggering together toward the elevator. They stepped inside and leaned against the walls facing each other.

“I think we’re gettin’ old, bro.” Richie only slurred his words a little. “Why the fuck are we leaving all those girls behind?”

Jon looked exhausted, his blue eyes dulled by the wine as he tried to come up with an answer.

“Maybe we’re finally growin’ up.” He suggested, then shook his head at the thought. “Fuck, no - I don’t wanna grow up. You wanna go back?”

It was funny, but when Jon was with Richie, his speech lost the polish he’d acquired over the years, and he slipped back more into his native Jersey style. Being drunk probably helped with that, too, as he forgot himself more. The one thing he didn’t forget tonight, though, was Sara, and he wished she was there with him.

Richie gave a grin, looking as tired as Jon felt - the long night of drinking had sapped his energy.

“Nah. Not in the mood for all that shit tonight. Tomorrow, maybe.”

With a soft ‘ding’, the elevator doors opened and they made a more-or-less straight line toward the door, Richie swiping the card and opening the door for Jon with a mocking bow.

“After you, sir.”

Jon gave a drunken chuckle as he pushed past Richie into the suite.

“Glad you know your place.” He muttered as he passed, stumbling straight for the bar in the living room.

He sloshed brandy into a couple of glasses and they sat down to enjoy their nightcap - Jon sprawling on the couch while Richie dropped onto an armchair, putting his booted feet on the coffee table. Staring into space, Jon’s mind drifted back to Sara, and after a while he spoke.

“Rich - I guess I should tell you - the photographer, Sara? I’ve been seeing her for a couple of weeks. She’s special, Richie, I can’t stop thinking about her. Wait till you meet her - you won’t believe this, but until I met her, she was…..” It dawned on Jon that Richie hadn’t made a sound, and he turned to look at him.

Richie was asleep, brandy glass still cradled in his hand. He hadn’t heard a word, and Jon laughed quietly.

“Great, buddy. Here I am pourin’ out my fuckin’ heart, and you’re asleep. Thanks Rich.”

Tossing back the remnants of his brandy, Jon stretched a leg and kicked Richie’s feet, knocking them off the table and waking him rudely.

“Huh? What?”

“You fell asleep, rock star. Can’t take the pace, huh? Maybe you are gettin’ old. I’m goin’ t’bed.”

Raising his brandy, Richie waved at Jon. “So, who can’t take the pace, then?! See you in the morning, buddy.”

Alone in the bedroom, Jon pulled out his cellphone, then looked at his watch. Three am. How mad would Sara be if he called now? While his befuddled brain was still working on that thorny issue, his fingers were dialling, and he’d hit the ‘send’ button before he realised what he was doing. Shit - now he was in trouble. The phone rang a few times, then a sleepy voice answered.

“Jon?”

“Hey, baby……sorry………I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“What makes you think that? It’s only three am - why on earth would I be asleep?”

“Shit…..I’m sorry….”

“Are you drunk, Jon? You sound it.”

“Maybe a li’l bit, well, maybe a big bit…..sorry…..”

Sara laughed, a sleepy chuckle like a contented baby. “Oh, stop apologising Jon. It’s fine. Did you have a good night with Richie?”

“Yeah, until he fell asleep…..see you tomorrow?”

“I guess it’s today, but yes, I’ll see you guys at the studio. Go to sleep, Jon - I’m good, but I don’t want you turning up with big bags under your eyes!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jon saluted, then realised he was on the phone - she couldn’t see him. “G’night Sara. Love you.” This last was said so quietly Sara wasn’t sure what she’d heard, but she didn’t press him to repeat himself.

“Good night, honey.”

She hung up and tried to get back to sleep, but she felt wide awake now, and after tossing and turning for half an hour, she gave up, throwing back the cover with an exasperated sigh and going to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

Jon, on the other hand, got to sleep no trouble at all. He sat on the bed to take off his shoes, decided to lie back for a second, and that was it. Out cold, fully dressed on top of the bed, until the sun finally penetrated his eyelids, forcing him awake. Eyes tightly shut, groaning, he fumbled for his jacket and found his sunglasses, putting them on before he dared open his eyes.

Now that he could almost see, he looked at the clock. Ten thirty, but he couldn’t hear a sound from Richie. Jon stripped and threw his clothes on the bed, then went into his bathroom where he took a long shower, trying to wash the cobwebs out of his brain. Eventually, he turned the temperature control all the way down to it’s coldest setting until he was shivering under the torrent of icy water. It did help, though, and when he stepped out and toweled himself dry, he felt at least alive. He felt even better once he’d cleaned his teeth, and could no longer taste stale wine, and he was fairly chirpy as he went through to the bedroom and pulled on his jeans and a shirt.

Barefoot, he went through to the living room to look for some juice or coffee, but stopped in the doorway when he saw Richie, still in the armchair, still asleep. The curtains were tightly drawn over the windows, keeping the room cool and dark, and Jon quietly got his juice and started some coffee going before walking to the window and hauling the curtains apart, flooding the room with light. Richie groaned, slowly coming awake.

“Ohhhhhhh fuuuuuck…..” he moaned, shading his eyes. “Jon? Wha’ time is it?”

“It is,” Jon checked his watch, “eleven fifteen, and it’s a beautiful morning. Shame you’ve missed most of it.”

Craning his head around, Richie looked at Jon, then grinned. “Yeah, and you missed most of it, too, didn’t ya? Shades indoors? Does somebody have a headache?”

“Well, yeah. We need to get going, buddy - we’re expected at the studio, remember? She said she doesn’t want us with bags under our eyes, so you’d better hit the shower!”

“I need coffee.” Richie announced as he prised himself out of the chair, stretching to try to work the kinks out of his muscles.

“Already done.” Jon told him, pouring himself a mug as Richie hobbled away to his room.