47:New Normal

The time difference between Vancouver and Jersey had Jon awake much earlier than he wanted to be on a show day, but he resigned himself to it and threw back the covers to call for coffee.  With that done, he checked his phone to see if anything interesting had happened on the east coast while he was sleeping.

He smiled just a little when he saw a message from Chiara, who was no longer showing up as Bitch Lawyer. 

[6:58 AM]CHIARA: Little warning that I was going to be facing Lilah & Des this morning might have been nice. 

Grimacing, he kicked himself in the ass for that one – and kicked Desiree in the ass for bringing Lilah.   He probably should’ve known that would happen when she responded to his text identifying the worker with one of her own that said, “Oooh!” but he went with optimism and hoped she would keep it to herself.

His fucking family loved getting involved, and the apology and ensuing conversation that was going to come as a result were more than he felt like texting.  Tapping the icon that would dial her, he put it on speaker and laid the phone on the bed while stepping into his jeans from yesterday.

“Hello?”

“Mornin’, Counselor,” he greeted in a voice that would carry while buttoning his fly. 

“Hey.  Did you call to beg forgiveness?”

“No,” Jon laughed, scrubbing a palm over his bare chest while the other hand scooped up the phone.  Sinking to the side of the bed, he took it off speaker to bring it to his ear.  “I did call to apologize, though.  Lilah wasn’t supposed to be there, just Des.”

“Even so, it would’ve been helpful for me to mentally prepare an explanation.  I was expecting some anonymous groundskeeper or something that wouldn’t consider my presence a sign of the Apocalypse.”

How appropriate that he greeted the counselor this morning, because that’s who was on the other end of this call – the very bitchy Counselor Charlie.  “I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah,” she sighed some of the bitch away and spoke more softly.  “You did.  Thanks.”

There.  Now he was talking with the woman he had a date with on Monday instead of the one who threw poison darts at his picture from behind her legal desk. 

“So what happened?”

“They wanted to know why I was there, naturally.  I told them I texted you a picture of my kitchen wall – which I will do after we hang up, by the way – and it made you decide you wanted a mural.”

“Sounds like you handled it perfectly.  So why are you giving me hell?”

Her light laughter caused one side of his mouth to lift.  “Clearly, you’ve gotten used to the softer side of me if you think this is giving you hell.  Want me to remind you what it’s really like?” 

“Only if we’re in the same room so I can take it to its natural conclusion.”  That innocent sentence, offered in a growl that was anything but innocent, left the woman on the other end of the line speechless.  Jon felt like the ruler of the world.  “Nothing to say to that?”

“Nothing you don’t already know.”

When was the last time he’d flirted with a woman from thousands of miles away?  Had he ever?  Even with Dorothea?  If he did, Jon couldn’t remember it.  The again, that was back in the days before he walked around with a phone in his hand every hour of the day.  Things were different and maybe even he was a little different.

Ultimately, he would probably regret where this flirtation ended – with a hard-on and no Chiara to suck it away – but it was a novelty that he was enjoying.  Jon wasn’t going to stop now.

“You can’t be sure about that.  Tell me, anyway, just in case.”

There was a moment’s hesitation in which he mentally prodded her into saying, “I want you.”

The soft words made him hard enough to lean back and adjust the fit of his fly.  “Do you hate wanting me?”

“Only because you’re too far away to do anything about it.”

It was a struggle deciding whether to take this further or let it fade quietly away.  He was tempted to ask if she played with herself last night and thought of him.  He was more tempted to ask her to do it now, just to see if she would.  If only he didn’t have room service on the way…

“Careful, Counselor,” Jon lightly eased out of the innuendo.  “I’m starting to think you like me a little.”

Her smile was evident when saying, “Funny.  I’m starting to think the same thing.  Have a good show tonight, okay?  I’ll see you Monday.”

“Yeah.  See you then.”

As he disconnected the call Jon wondered if this is what the future held for him.  Whether with Chiara or someone else, is this what it would be like having a girlfriend again after thirty years?  Teasing phone calls to keep him going until he got home again?  Part of him wanted to know.

The other part thought he was a crazy son of a bitch.

J J J J J

The interviews were done.  The fan club gig was done.  The photo ops were done.  The Q&A was done.  There was only one thing left on his Vancouver agenda and that was to give the 7,500 fans the best performance he could pull out of his guts. 

Jon was in the dressing room before the show, drinking hot tea and warming up his vocal cords when his phone lit up.  Crossing to the table where it lay, he checked the screen to find that his oldest son was calling, which was surprising on a weekend.

“Hey, kid.  College life so dull that you’ve gotta call your father on Saturday night?”

“Ha ha, old man.  This is interfering with my kegger, but I’m calling to pull some strings.”

With a snort, he sat on the sofa arm with his tea, one foot on the seat cushion and one on the floor.  “Don’t get caught, and who the hell do you know that wants something from me?  Another athletic booster donation?”

He loved the Irish and loved that his kid played football for them, so Jon had been generous with the donations thus far.  They must have finally figured out he was a dependable resource, but they would also need to understand he wasn’t the guy who anybody – other than a divorce lawyer – was going to bleed dry.

“Nah.  Easier than that.  Noah and Caleb have tickets to your show tonight.  They wanted to know if they could stop by and say hi either before or after.”

It was a little strange that two college kids were coming to see him perform, but he’d given up questioning his audience demographic long ago.  He was just grateful for the diversity.

“Of course.  Tell them to hang around Lorenza’s side of the stage afterward.  I’ll send Matt for them.”

Matt, who had spent half the day riding his ass over Chiara’s appearance at High Point this morning.  Matt, who said he never knew “mural” was code for something dirty.  Matt, who was wagering with Tony how long it would be before Jon was hooking up with the lawyer again.

Matt who will also get his ass fired if he gives me grief over this.

“Awesome.  You’re the best, Dad.  Love you.”

“Love you, too, Jess.  Go easy on the beer, would ya?”

“As easy as you did at my age,” his son laughed and disconnected the call.

That was exactly what Jon was afraid of.

Three hours later, he was sweaty but content with the way things had finally shaken down.  As these kinds of shows tended to be, it was fun for Jon.  They did a lot of nostalgic songs from the days of his youth mixed in with the classic Bon Jovi offerings, keeping everybody in the place happy.  That was as good as it got in this business.  Ever.

He ran a towel over sweat-drenched hair and chest, but left the wet sleeveless tee on for now and slipped a jacket on over it.  After Chiara’s kids came and went, he would get out of here and back to the hotel for his shower.

“Jon.”  Knocking once loudly, his brother peeked around the door.  When he stepped inside and closed it with his solemn bodyguard expression in place, Jon frowned.

“Where are Noah and Caleb?”

“In the hall,” Matt said somberly.  “I wanted to give you a heads-up before they come in.  Their dad is with them.”

Ahh, fuck.

Meeting Chiara’s ex wasn’t on the list of things he ever wanted to accomplish in this lifetime, but he would suck it up and deal.  The man was also these boys’ father, and that was the context in which he was meeting the guy.   He would focus on that facet instead of imagining him in bed with Chiara.  Jon was a grownup.  He could do this.

“Appreciate it, man.”  He nodded his head gratefully.  “It’s fine.”

Matt silently returned the nod and opened the door.  “All clear.  Come on in.”

Pasting on a wide smile, Jon stepped up to greet both boys with a pat on the back and inane commentary about how he was surprised at the chance to see them again so soon. 

“Yeah, we didn’t expect it either,” Noah laughed.  “And I feel like an asshat that we didn’t realize who you were until after vacation.”

Laughing, Jon assured the boy, “I’m not offended in the least.  It’s good just being Jess’s dad.”

“Well, anyway.  We were telling Dad about it and he said how you were playing tonight, so here we are.  Oh, and Mr. Bongiovi, this is our dad, Owen Foster.”

Reaching past the boys to extend a hand, Jon immediately noted that these kids looked nothing like the guy they called “Dad”.  These were Chiara’s kids, with her dark coloring and Luke’s good looks.  Their soft-around-the-edges father, with his light eyes and thinning blond hair didn’t look like he belonged anywhere in their family tree, and there would be no fear of picturing him in bed with Chiara, either.  She was way the fuck out of his league.

“Hi, Owen.  I’m Jon.”  It was one of those things that was probably unnecessary, but he always felt like an idiot assuming people knew who he was.  “These are some great boys you have.  I’ve enjoyed getting to know them.”

The return handshake was a little mushy, but Owen’s smile and eyes were bright.  “Yes, thank you.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.  We have some mutual professional acquaintances, but I’ve never had the privilege before now.”

“Oh, yeah?”  He asked curiously, stepping back and propping his hands on his hips. It didn’t surprise him that Chiara had been married somebody in music, but it surprised him that this guy was in music.  “Which acquaintances?”

The names he rattled off were a very vague blast from the very distant past.  People he hadn’t talked to in years and years and whom he hadn't known well in the first place. 

“I’m a professional studio drummer and do a bit of dabbling in production.”

It took everything Jon had to bite back the unimpressed, “So?” that was hovering on the tip of his tongue.  He only managed to do so by reminding himself that this was the boys’ father, and that insulting him insulted them.

“Nice,” he went with instead, dodging the gaze of a smirking Matt who stood behind the group of visitors. 

“Yes.  That’s the reason I couldn’t join my wife and sons on their recent Hamptons trip,” he explained apologetically.  “I’ve been helping a friend get a new studio started not too far outside Vancouver.  But I understand you were very hospitable to my family while they were there.  I know they appreciate it, and I can't tell you how much it means to me.”

Owen slapped his left hand onto Caleb’s shoulder and, for the first time, Jon saw the plain gold wedding band.  That visual paired with the overdone appreciation on behalf of Owen’s “family” melded into an ugly picture that he never dreamed of seeing.

I’m fucking a married woman?  I have a goddamn DATE with a married woman!  Who I almost had phone sex with today.  And her motherfucking brother is ENCOURAGING it!  What the actual fuck?

He couldn’t look at Matt.  There was no doubt that his brother’s expression would mirror those thoughts or something similiar, and with his temper set to blow, Jon couldn’t keep his shit together if he let his concentration waver for even a second. 

“Yeah, well.  Any of my kids’ friends are always welcome to hang out with us – and bring their families along.  It was no big deal.”

“It was pretty awesome,” Caleb, who was always the quieter of the two, piped up and turned to include Matt in his statement.  “I hope I find some running buddies at Stanford that can hang as well as you ‘old’ guys.”

“If not, come run with me in Jersey on Christmas break.  I’ll whip you into shape,” Matt offered with a laugh, before doing exactly what Jon paid him to do – rescue him from an undesirable situation. “Jon, you’ve got that other appointment back at the hotel.  We need to get going.”

“Right.”  He conjured up the most genuine smile possible under the circumstances and directed it to the counselor's sons.   “Guys.  Take care and study hard, okay?”

Both of them agreed, offering further thanks as they began back-tracking toward the door.  They had almost reached it when their father interrupted. 

“If we could just get a quick photo before we go, that would be amazing,” he suggested congenially.  “I’m sure Charlie would love to have a snapshot of all her guys with a rock star.”

Jon absently wondered what an aneurysm felt like.  Because there was this weird throbbing in the back of his head…

“Sure,” he agreed through gritted teeth.  “Matt?”

Gathering up all the cell phones, his brother lifted the first one into place while Jon positioned himself next to the two boys.  Owen was on the other side of them and, because both men had their arms on Noah and Caleb’s backs, Jon found his fingertips brushing the other man's wedding ring.

He was going to have a fucking stroke before this guy got out of here, but if he lived through it…  Well, he and Charlie were going to have a fight that made the others look like a series of goddamn tea parties.

“Smile.”

Motherfucking Cujo bitch.