147 - Strange Days

“You’re an idiot.  I thought you weren’t for a while but, after this latest stunt of yours, it’s clear that I was wrong.  Where the hell is your head?”

Richie groaned silently, glancing at Jon from the corner of his eye.  The stretch Hummer he’d hired was about fifteen minutes out of the city, en route to the Navesink house.  Waiting there were the other ten bachelor party guests. 

And a bossy-as-hell woman.

“Hey, D.  What’s up?”

That was an unfamiliar greeting falling from his lips and it caught Jon’s curiosity right away.  It’s not like Richie and Dorothea never spoke, but she seldom – never – called him.  Fascinated, his best friend cocked his head and shamelessly eavesdropped.

“Your head is up… your ass.”  Damn.  Why was she so mad at him?  He hadn’t done anything to her.  That he knew of.  “If Tony hadn’t already been finishing  that phone call with Candace when I walked in, she never would have gotten your number.  I would have made sure of it.  What happened with Denny?”

TBJ, I’m gonna kill you.

“It’s none of your business.”  It was said with a laugh, but the underlying intent was as serious as a heart attack.

“I’m making it my business.  None of these guys will bust your balls over the mess you get yourself into with women.  You need somebody to do it.”

If she thought she was pissed, he was about to pass that by double.  “I don’t need somebody to point out my every fucking mistake.  If I did, I’d have a wife.”

Unbelievably, his menacing words didn’t unleash her inner demon.  He’d fully expected her to scream at him like she was possessed by Satan himself.  Quite the opposite happened, in fact.  It made her oddly…  Compassionate?

“No,” she quietly.  “You need somebody to help you find some self-respect with women.  Since none of your ‘brothers’  seem inclined to help you do it, I guess it’s up to me to put a stop to this train wreck in progress.”

The … compassion… enabled him to curb his anger at her unwanted interference in his personal life.  She had this thing for championing the underdog.  “Don’t make me one of your pet projects, okay?  I’m fine on my own.”

Jon crossed one leg over the other and followed suit with his arms with tenacious gleam in his eyes.  As soon as the call was finished, he would be all over Richie.

“Evidently you’re not,” Dorothea continued to prod.  “What are you doing putting out a call for a little action with a woman you don’t even know?  You’re not twenty-eight anymore, Sambora.”

“Exactly.  I know what I’m doing.”

“Stop listening to the little head and tell me what happened with Denny.”

How had Jon lived with this pit bull for over twenty years?  No wonder he was always itching to get out on the road.  Thank God Richie had only been indirectly subjected to Dorothea’s efforts to save the world. 

He closed his eyes and fought for composure while ignoring the evil smirk on his friend’s face. “You know the great thing about our relationship, D?  We can go months without talking to each other and be perfectly content.  Wanna try that again?”

A piteous sigh filled his ear, and it rankled that she sounded so damn disappointed.  “Believe it or not, I’m actually being sincere here.  If you’d let her, Denny could be the best decision you ever made personally or professional.”

“I’m not trying to be an ungrateful ass, but please just drop it.  Right now that’s not my choice, and if it were my choice, I dunno what the hell I would do about it.  Okay?”

“Why don’t you stop being a masochistic man and tell me what happened?  Or are you afraid to say it in front of Jon?”

Good God, he needed to be subject to some kind of mood-altering agent before this didn’t grate on his nerves and make him tenser than he had been all day.

“I’m not afraid of anything, dammit!  She hinted that she wanted a more personal relationship and then refused to come to Jersey.  She’s back in California dating, and I am trying to do the same.  End of story.”

The white lights passing by on the Jersey Turnpike reminded him of the Lost Highway lyrics.  As per those lyrics, Richie realized that he, once again, didn’t know where he was going.

“Dottie, leave him alone,” Jon spoke loudly enough to be heard over the faint sound of the tires singing against the pavement. 

“Tell Jon to mind his own business.”

“I didn’t get involved in your arguments when you were married.  I sure as hell ain’t doin’ it now.”

“Fine, just ignore him and pay attention to me.  At your age, you don’t need another damn groupie, or another clingy, bubble-headed woman.  You accuse me of trying to save the world, but you’re the one with the white knight complex.  Stumble across a pretty, screwed up girl and you feel like it’s your obligation to fix her.  Do yourself a favor, Sambora.  Find somebody who can and will take care of you as much as you take care of them.  Somebody like Denny.”

She only meant well.  That’s what he kept telling himself.  “D, I love you, but enough.  Go browbeat Tony.”

“Richie…”

“I know.  I know!”  He swallowed a strangled noise of annoyance.  She had nothing to say that was going to change anything.  “Have fun and play nice with the other bachelorettes.  Later.” 

The silence in the limo hung heavily as he put the phone back into his pocket, and he knew without looking that Jon was watching him.  Waiting.  Mr. Bon Jovi could be a ruthless prick when he wanted to, and he would use that skill to his benefit in forcing Richie to cough up the details of his chat with Dorothea.  It would be easier to just beat him to the punch.

“I asked Tony to give my number to the chick that works for him.  Candace.  Your ex-wife is not impressed with that decision and tells me I need a real woman.”

Jon’s forehead wrinkled thoughtfully.  “Candace.  Is she the tall blonde?”

Richie responded with only a silent nod.

“Christ, Rich, she had hands like an octopus at that crew party.  All over anybody who’d ever been on an awards stage.  You think that’s a good idea?”

Jon was becoming a stuffy old politician.  What happened to the days where they’d done crazy shit because it felt like the right thing to do at the time?  Every decision in life didn’t need weighed to the exact ounce of its consequence.  Hell, the man himself was getting married a mere week after getting engaged and only a few weeks after meeting her. 

“Maybe not, but it’s a better idea than getting shit-faced drunk.  I need a mental release right now and my two choices are sex or booze.”

“Why?  What’s got you fighting your way out of a corner?”

Fuck.

Yes, he was the emotional one of this particular duo, but Jon had never been particularly interested in the details of those emotions, choosing to gloss over it whenever possible.  On the occasions that they did talk about really personal stuff, it wasn’t because Jon wanted to.  It was because he knew Richie needed him, and it was the right thing to do.  In reality, the whole scene made him squirm like he had ants in his pants.

But when you do talk, he talks smart.  He tried to warn you about your California hook up girl, and he was right.

Publicity had been the name of the game with her.  She’d dragged Richie along on a media magic-carpet ride.  He wasn’t fucking Aladdin and would have been quite content to leave that ride to someone else.

His eyes drifted out the tinted window of the vehicle, spotting the next exit sign.  They hadn’t made it to the Parkway yet.  There was still time to do this before they got to Dorothea’s house.

So just spill your guts.

With a gusty sigh of resignation, Richie leaned forward and said, “Denny hinted that she wanted more and I pushed.  She told me she had gotten more invested than friendship, surprising the hell out of me, but you know me.  I was immediately ready to take it to the next level – a physical level – but she was afraid it would screw everything up.  I finally convinced her to let me at least give her a real kiss.”

“And?”

Richie shrugged. “And it was good.  It felt a little weird to be kissing Denny, but it was good.  Didn’t stop things from turning awkward as hell afterward though.   She’s worried about her job if this goes any further, even though I told her that would never be an issue.  But she knows how impulsive I can be.  Doesn’t want this to become a big mistake.”

Strangely un-squirming and stoic, his friend asked, “What about you?  Was it impulse or do you wanna muddy the waters of what you and Denny are?”

“I dunno.”  Richie rubbed a distracted hand over his jaw.  “We were going to talk when I got home, but last night…”  Did he really want to get into this?  His reasons for seeking out some human contact last night?

“What happened last night?”

No.  He didn’t want to talk to Jon about his guilt over the whole Daniel thing. 

“I decided to hang around here a couple of extra days until everything gets worked out.  I called her about rescheduling my flight home, and she happened to be out on a date.  Guess she got tired of waiting for me to figure my shit out.  Either that, or she decided I wasn’t worth the trouble.”

Jon winced as though in pain.  “Dammit, man, you know how bad I suck at this.  I think I’m supposed to say that you are worth the trouble.  God, this makes me glad for Petey.  What you see is what you get.  I don’t have to guess with her.  Usually.”

“Yeah, no shit,” he drawled wryly.  “I would’ve been dating her if she wasn’t already in love with your stupid ass.”

Jon shrugged without an iota of remorse.  “Sucks to be you then, I guess.  So what’s Dottie giving you grief over?  Denny?  Candace?”

“Yes.  She says I need somebody like Denny in my life, not another hook up.  Screw the fact that it looks like Denny doesn’t want to be in my life that way.”

“Man,” Jon sighed, reaching over to slap him on the shoulder.  “I may know next-to-nothing about women sometimes…”

“Sometimes?  You’re clueless all the time.”

“Then that makes this pearl of wisdom all the more valuable, you sarcastic fuck, so listen up.  Don’t stay here the extra days.  There’s no point.  Go home and talk to Denny until you come to an understanding that suits you both.”

Richie stared curiously at the man next to him, almost flabbergasted.  “Damn.  Petey’s made you soft.  I would’ve bet money on you having my back with Candace and the easy lay.”

Jon slowly shook his head.  “I’m here to tell ya, man… revenge sex isn’t satisfying.  You may as well stay home with Rosy Palm and her five sisters, because you don’t have to talk to them afterward.”

Talk about getting down to brass tacks.  Jon didn’t have trouble calling it like it was in any situation and, even though he was no Dr. Ruth, he could still see a spade for what it was.  Didn’t mean Richie knew what to do now any more than he had five minutes ago, even with the relationship advice.

Relationship advice.  From Jon.  Wow.

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

Next chapter hasn't been written, so I can't guarantee a post date.  I'm trying for Thursday, August 9.