2 - Everybody's Got a Story

Lilah Bennett was a quiet and reserved woman.  More often than not, she preferred to spend her time alone rather than in the company of others.  Maybe that made her a selfish bitch.  She’d certainly heard that phrase often enough in her adult life, even from her best friend, Joanna.

When those folks had walked a mile or twelve in her shoes, then she might consider taking their opinion into consideration.  In the meantime, she preferred to think of herself as introverted. 

It was true that she could be a bit shy around strangers, but that didn’t mean she was afraid of life.  She merely preferred her independence to being dependent upon another.  Asking for favors was something she simply didn’t do.

That’s why it was more than a bit unusual to find herself in this position.

“What do you want that you’re willing to blow me for?  Better yet, what do you think blowing me is gonna get you?”

Anthony Bongiovi was flustering her.  She had planned this whole conversation out quite carefully, and he wasn’t following the script.  Not that she could blame him for his heated incredulity.  The idea could be perceived as a bit unconventional, but she couldn’t very well make her request without offering to compensate him in some way. 

Therefore, she had devised a foolproof plan:  offer him something irresistible in exchange for what she was after.  It was foolproof because men found oral sex irresistible.  They never refused it.  Did they?

He’s not going to refuse.

“I want your time and expertise.”

It didn’t take a personal interaction specialist to read his facial expression.  He plainly thought she was referring to an intimate expertise.  Well, he was right.  Sort of. 

“Look, I’m sure you’re a nice woman, but being an instructional aid for sex isn’t on my list of things to do today.”

Lilah laughed softly.  His biting wit wasn’t really a surprise so much as a happy confirmation of her presumptions.  The sarcastic humor almost radiated from him, and dealing with sarcasm was well within her comfort zone.

“Mine either.  Imagine that,” she drawled wryly.  “Good thing that’s not the kind of expertise I was looking for.”

“Yet you still haven’t told me what you are looking for.  You think we could move past the word games and get to the punchline?”

That flustered her again.  He was unpredictable in a most intriguing way, Lilah thought as she scrambled to compile most flattering presentation of her request.   She should have spent more time planning for unforeseen circumstances, but there was no way to have predicted his behavior.  That left her… improvising.  She hated to improvise.  Invariably, it resulted in an impulsive spew of words that made sense only in her head. 

Slow down and think, Lilah Jane.  You’re an intelligent woman.  Don’t let him make you feel otherwise.

“Okay.  Punchline.  I… I was hoping you would show me your work.”  She picked at the bar napkin briefly, then tucked her scarred hand back into her lap, bravely lifting her chin.  “Not the work that you’ve done, but how you work.  What goes on at the video director’s desk during a show, the setup and all that.”

He was shaking his head in the negative before she got finished.  “That’s not gonna happen.  Fans do not get to play with the equipment.”

“But I don’t want to play with it,” Lilah protested.  “I want you to show me what you do with it.  How it works.  More than that, I want to pick your brain.  How do you choose what shot goes up next on the screen?  Is there a formula, or do you need to have an eye for it?”

“Bon Jovi has done a dozen of those behind the scenes things.  Find them on YouTube or Max Mouth.  I’m sure all your questions will be answered.”

Sifting through hours and hours of random footage of people she didn’t know, telling things she didn’t care about wasn’t of the least bit of interest to Lilah.  She wanted to know how Anthony did his job, and what made his work-mind tick.  Not that she was going to admit it, but she wanted to learn Anthony, too.

“Please don’t brush me off as some mindless woman,” she requested gently.  “I have a genuine interest in what you do.  I also think you must be the best at what you do, if Bon Jovi pays you to do it.  Family or not, I don’t think Jon Bon Jovi is going to pay you to make him look less than perfect during a show.”

“Is that what this is about?”  His forehead wrinkled in a way that was largely reminiscent of his famous brother.  “Trying to worm your way into backstage for your brush with fame?  ‘Cause I gotta say, the fan club trips have gotta be cheaper than what I bet you paid for this European stint so far.”

“It’s not the fame that interests me.”

“Then what is it?”

It was a chore to decide whether she considered his obstinacy endearing or annoying.  On the one hand, she could understand where he might be suspicious of fame mongers, but on the other hand, she was running out of convincing things to say.  She meant everything she’d said, but repeating it until she was blue in the face wasn’t going to make it any more effective. 

You never know when it’s your last chance.

Drawing a covert, yet fortifying breath, she dared let her left hand drop to her side.  It dangled uncertainly for a second before ever-so-slowly making contact with the front of his thigh.  Then, in one of the boldest moves she’d ever made, she dragged her fingertips upward until the bulge in his pocket impeded her progress. 

When she looked up into his face, she found Anthony’s lips were twitching with a hint of amusement.  “You’re interested in my keys?”

Mortified on the inside, she hoped to appear cavalier when quietly intoning, “No.  I’m just reminding you of my original offer.  I’d like to see Bon Jovi’s video director in action and talk to you about your job.  It seems only fair to make my inquisitiveness worth your while.”

 He bent a dark close-cut head near enough for the beer on his breath to fill her nostrils.  His intimate proximity raised the hair on the back of her neck in an unfamiliar way.  Lilah felt like she was standing at the top of the New River Gorge on Bridge Day.  One step forward would send her plummeting to the bottom, but, unlike those jumpers, she didn’t have a bungee cord tied around her ankles.  This would be a total free fall.

Lord have mercy.

She never expected to be so overwhelmed by his presence.

“Do I look like a whore to you?” he whispered, with dark humor.  Lilah swallowed forcefully, the hair on her arms lifting to match that on her neck.

“I…  That’s not…  I didn’t…”  Breathe Lilah Jane!  “No.  Of course not.”

“You can’t get backstage passes with a blowjob, baby.  Not from me.”

He was misunderstanding completely!  She truly sucked at being promiscuous. What she wouldn’t give to start this whole fiasco over again from the beginning.  At this stage of the game a do-over was the only thing that could salvage this unequivocal mess.

Clearly proven by the fact that he was leaving.

“Wait!”  Lilah gripped his forearm, no doubt coming across as a woman possessed.  Well, that was fine.  She sort of felt that way right now.  She’d come too far, and was too close.  Walking away now would be devastating.  Heaven knew she couldn’t make any bigger fool of herself, so she may as well humiliate herself a little further.   “I’m sorry if I insulted you.  That wasn’t my intention at all!” 

“I believe you didn’t want to insult me, but you’re still looking for a free ride I’m not willing or able to give.”

“You don’t understand!”  Hellfire and damnation!  One more thing you’ve screwed up, Lilah!  Frustration brought prickles of tears to her eyes.  “And I have the social savvy of a retarded hyena, so I’m doing a wretched job of explaining it.  Just give me a minute?  Please?”

It was with great relief she felt the resistance in his muscular forearm ease.  Chancing a look up into his face, she found that his mouth was twitching with wry humor and there was one dark eyebrow pointedly arching above the frame of his glasses.    “Retarded hyena?”

“Uh, yeah.  Mr. Bongiovi –“

“Tony.”

“Tony,” she acceded with a nod of thanks.  “My show tickets, travel, backstage tours and the like are already purchased for the rest of the tour.  By me.  I don’t want a hand out, charity, freebies…  any of that.  All I want is to spend some time back stage with you before, during or after a show so I can watch you work and maybe learn a little something.   You can’t be expected to do something like that out of the goodness of your heart, and I didn’t think you would accept money.  I was just trying to… “ This was hopeless.  She sounded like a babbling idiot, and was almost embarrassed to finish.  “… compensate you for your time,”  she trailed off, releasing his forearm.

She was a certifiable lunatic.  Her repeated explanations clearly weren’t helping matters and she refused to lower herself to begging.  It’s not like this was life or death.  It was…  personal. 

“You’re shittin’ me, right?”

Humorless laughter forced itself out of her throat.  She kept her chin up, but her eyes drifted to her lap and her scarred hand.  She mindlessly rubbed at the physical memories.  “No.  I am not shittin’ you.  That’s the story.”

“I’m bettin’ it’s not the whole story.”

He was right about that.  While she’d been watching him from across the bar earlier, she considered telling him the whole thing, but ended up vetoing that plan.  The whole story was one riddled with facts that she was trying to forget, and it probably wasn’t that interesting to a man like him. 

“As I said before, I believed you to be a smart man.”  She swiveled on the bar stool and slid her sandaled feet to the floor.  “I now also believe you to be one who isn’t interested in my offer.  The rest of the story won’t change that.  Good evenin’, Mr. Bongiovi.”

Her pride may be dented, but she still had it, and Lilah wouldn’t hang her head with shame or embarrassment.   A deep breath helped square her shoulders, and she walked back out the way same way she came, only a little worse for wear.

You didn’t fail.  Failure would have been not trying.  At least you tried.