32 - Take the Long Way Home

What the fuck was it about him, Jon mused resentfully.  She sure as hell didn’t have any trouble warming up to his friends, but him?  He silently cursed again.  Him, Petey wouldn’t ask to call an ambulance if she were having a heart attack.

 “What’cha looking so sour about, Kidd?”  Tico slid an affectionate arm around his neck and squeezed.

Shaking off his bitter thoughts, he shook his head and smiled at his old friend.  “Same old shit, man.  How you been?”

“Can’t complain.”  He took a swig of his bottled water.  “I think I’m ready to be back out there again.”

“I hear ya.  The walls are closing in on me.” 

Although I don’t know that seeing Petey Diehl every damn day is going to be any better.

Both men silently perused the room and sipped their drinks.

“Seems like a good bunch of people,” Tico remarked casually.  “Anybody new and interesting in the mix?”

You could say that.

“Mm.  If you consider Goth new and interesting, I guess Tony’s video tech counts.  Other than that, it’s pretty much the standard.”

“Goth, huh?  Wouldn’t happen to be a little girl wearing a pink Santa hat and black leather jacket, would it?”

Jon lifted a curious brow.  “Yeah, probably.  Why?”

Tico’s quiet chuckle had his shoulders shaking, and he brought a hand up to swipe across his mouth.  “Lemma couldn’t resist heckling her down in the lobby.  From the blow-by-blow replay he gave me, sounds like she’s got a smart mouth, .”

“I don’t know anything about her mouth…”  Liar.  “…but they were getting 'acquainted' when I bumped into them just now.”  His lips pursed in disapproval, but he disguised it by touching the rim of his Jack and Coke to his lips and swallowing.  The slight fire sliding down how throat felt good.  It matched the one in his stomach.  “He’d better be careful.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s not exactly his type.”

Even though David had been dating one particular woman off and on for the past couple of years, he was technically unattached since his divorce almost five years ago.  His 'steady' and all of the other women in that  period of time each fit the same physical mold - tall, slender blondes. 

Jon dipped his head toward the woman fitting that description that had been circling him like a vulture since arriving with Petey.  “That one looks more his speed.”

“Who’s she?”

“Another of Tony's."  He grimaced lightly.  "Or so she said when she backed my ass into a corner and introduced herself.  Damn woman has more hands than an octopus, but not as many manners."

Tico's deep rumble of laughter didn't serve to improve his disposition.  "She was just being friendly, man.  You used to like 'em friendly."

"I also wore purple Spandex, which proves that I went through at least one phase of stupidity."

His friend lifted his fist to bump against Jon's in a show of solidarity.  "You know you're preachin' to the choir."  He nodded his head back toward the blonde.  "So he's got two women working for him this time?  That's different."

"One woman, one Goth.”

Listen to yourself asshole.  If anyone knows she’s a woman, it’s you.

“Well tall, blonde and leggy over there is definitely the look Lemma goes for,” Tico agreed, not remarking on Jon's slur of Petey.  “But the other girl will keep him on his toes.  That's why he likes her - she’s someone to play with.”

Jon slugged back the last of his drink, the remainder of melted ice cubes clinking harshly in the glass when he brought it away from his mouth.  “Yeah.  Well, he better damn well find somebody else to play with.  The crew is off-limits."

With that, he stalked off in search of another drink, leaving his drummer perplexedly staring after him.

☠ ☢ ☠

Petey slid the unopened gift across the seat and allowed her head to fall back onto the headrest of the Town Car, exhausted but exhilarated. 

Midway through the party, she’d felt the phone tucked into her waistband vibrate.  Jon's text message had given her details on the waiting car that would take her to his place whenever she was ready to leave the party.  A second text asked her to message him when she did leave, and to wait for him in the lobby of his building.  Oh yeah, and he also told her to plan on spending the night.

The muscles of her lower abdomen clenched with anticipation.  That might have rubbed her the wrong way if she hadn’t been thinking about him all day, becoming more … anxious as she watched him from a distance throughout the evening.  By the time his text had arrived, a whole night of sex was sounding exactly like what she needed.

But she would also need something besides this pink Santa getup.

“Excuse me.”  Petey leaned forward over the seat to speak to the driver.  “Would you mind letting me make a stop before heading for Mercer Street?”

The man smiled indulgently at her in the rear view mirror.  “Of course, Miss.  Mr. B mentioned that you would probably want to do that.  Where to?”

Shaking her head with a rueful smile, she wasn't sure whether to be impressed with Jon's foresight or pissed at his presumptuousness.  Rather than dwelling on it, she rattled off her St. Mark’s Place address and settled back into the seat.

After Jon left them, David informed her that she was his for the evening, keeping her at his side and making lots of introductions.  She met the roadies, the sound guys, the instrument techs, wardrobe, the rest of the band members and a few miscellaneous personal staff, like Monique.  It was surprisingly enjoyable.  Working with these people for the next year or so was going to be a positive experience, and as for David?

Well, David was going to keep her on her toes, no doubt about it.

“Tink, this is one of my best friends, and our drummer, Tico,” he had introduced the man who needed no introduction, as far as Petey was concerned.  “Teek, this is Tinkerhell.”

“It’s Petey, Mr. Torres,” she murmured, extending the hand that wasn’t curled around an embarrassingly frilly alcoholic concotion.  "I've been looking forward to meeting you."  David was the unlucky recipient of her most lethal glare as Tico laughed and shook her hand. Too bad it didn’t faze him. 

“Tico, please,” the dark-eyed man rumbled in a voice that was an unexpectedly deep baritone.  “I’m sorry we rushed by you in the lobby earlier. Lemma had us rolling in late as usual, but if we’d realized you were part of the Jovi crew I wouldn’t have been quite so short.”

“Yes you would have,” David cracked.  “That last growth spurt was over thirty years ago.  You’re stuck shopping in the children’s section, buddy.”

Without batting an eye, the drummer drew his fist back a mere six inches and knocked David in the arm with enough force to send him reeling.

“Dammit, Teek,” he groused rubbing the injured bicep after regaining his footing.

“You’d think he would learn after all these years,” Tico apologized to Petey.  “But I still have to take him to school on a regular basis.”

The older man was completely charming, and she unfurled her dimples for him.  “Don’t think a thing about it.  I have a feeling before the tour is over, I’ll be running a school of my own.”

His laughter rolled over her with a warmth that trickled all the way to her toes and filled her with a sense of happiness she hadn’t known in ages.   They were so personable – all of them.  With an absolute certainty, Petey knew that pushing her way into Tony’s door had been the right thing to do.  Bon Jovi was where she belonged for this next chapter of her life.

“Here we are, Miss,” the driver prompted quietly, the vehicle idling quietly in front of her building. 

“Oh, sorry.”  Unlatching the handle, she stepped onto the curb, assuring him, “I’ll only be a minute.”

With that, Petey quickly climbed the stoop, bypassing the elevator in favor of the stairs.  She sprinted lightly up the four flights of stairs to her apartment, and a brief rustle in her pocket unearthed the door key.  Once inside, she hurriedly tossed a change of clothes and some makeup into her battered backpack, along with her laptop.  After sealing up the zipper, she hefted it onto her shoulder and skipped back down the stairs with feet as light as her mood. 

Petey closed herself back in the car with a happy sigh.  As good as she felt right now, she was eager to see how much better she might feel once she and Jon were tangled together in the sheets.

As the vehicle slid through Lower Manhattan, she reflected on her first experience with ‘public’ Jon.

After his interaction with her and David, she hadn’t spoken to him again that evening – or he hadn’t spoken to her.  Whichever.

But she had inconspicuously watched him.  A lot.

She’d carefully observed an unpleasant conversation with Tico, judging by the tight set of Jon’s face when it was over.  A quick trip to the bar had a fresh drink in his hand, and his features forcibly schooled into the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.    

A healthy swallow later, he pointedly made the rounds of the room, briefly speaking with each person before pushing onto the next group.   The general gist seemed to be welcoming the crew aboard and offering his appreciation for their attendance at the party.

The majority of the evening was spent establishing that one-on-one contact, but after it was finished, he stood to the side, allowing everyone to do their thing.  Jon looked almost – for lack of a better word – fierce on the sidelines.  She could tell that he was keeping a close eye on everything and everyone to make sure the event was going as planned, but he didn’t immerse himself in any of it.  He was eerily removed from it all.

This man was a Jon she didn’t recognize.  He was so different than the open, funny, pushy man she’d come to know in the last few weeks.  It was enough to make her think that, despite her privy to a host of personal and private details about the man’s life, she didn’t really know him at all. 

The only time he seemed ‘normal’ to Petey was when he took the stage. 

Late in the evening, Jon had stripped off his sports coat and climbed onto the elevated surface, grabbing the mic from its stand.

“Where’s my band?  It’s time to jam,” he called, a spark of light coming into his eyes.  “Richie was unavoidably detained in LA, but I have convinced Mr. Bobby Bandiera to come and strum a little for us in his place.  Bobby, get your ass up here!  And I know you all are going to hear Bon Jovi songs night after night for the next year, so we won’t be playing our own stuff here tonight.”  Looking around him, he saw that his musicians were in all in place.  “Let’s show ‘em what we got, boys.”

The wide smile covered his face as the men behind him – Tico, David, Bobby Bandiera and Hugh McDonald, the bassist – launched into an upbeat song.  It took Petey only a few notes to realize it was Roy Orbison’s “Pretty Woman”.

It took only slightly more than that to see why women threw themselves at Jon Bon Jovi.

Jon was in his element on the stage.  He was charming, charismatic and focused intently on channeling his unleashed energy into the room.  The set list wasn’t long, but it was fun and Petey found the diversity impressive.  Roy Orbison, Elvis, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and The Temptations lent themselves to Jon’s interpretation of their classic hits.

By the time he jumped lithely off the stage, he was soaked with sweat and the grin on his face could’ve lit half of Manhattan.  Anyone could see that Jon was meant to do this.

Shortly after the last song, people began drifting out of the Marquis Ballroom, pausing only to pick up Jon’s gifts for them as they left. 

Petey smirked at the gaily wrapped package that was snuggled up next to her backpack on the wide leather seat. 

He hadn’t bought ‘her’ a gift; he’d bought everyone there a gift.  They’d been piled around the huge, elegantly decorated tree by the entrance, and Monique had been charged with playing the Jovi Elf, distributing them to the guests as they departed.

“Oh wait, I’ve got yours marked specially, Petey,” she said, reaching for a much smaller stack of gifts at the side and checking the tags on a couple of them before finding what she was looking for.  “Here you go, and Happy Holidays from Bon Jovi Management,” she presented the package with a smile.

“What makes those different from the others?”  Petey’s natural curiosity had her blurting the question before she could censor it but, luckily, Monique wasn’t offended.

“Those are for the women,” she explained..  “There are only a handful of them on the crew, and Jon selected something specifically for them.”

That made sense.  “It’s nice that he found something he thought we would all like,” she commented politely while accepting the pink beribboned gift, but Monique shook her head with a slight frown. 

“Don’t misunderstand.  While they’re all similar, I had specific instructions as to who got what.  He was very explicit.”

Not knowing how to respond, Petey had merely dipped her head in thanks and slipped away to the waiting car. 

Part of her – the overzealously curious part – had wanted to rip open the package as soon as the door closed.  But she didn’t listen to it.  Another part of her loudly recommended that she leave it in her apartment and not take it to Jon’s.  But she didn’t listen to it either.

No.  This package was what he’d used as a lure to secure her attendance at his party.  By not opening it, she wanted him to see that she came because it was her decision to do so, not because of petty bribery. 

It wouldn’t do to let him think he held all the cards.

It wouldn’t do at all.