4 - Pit Bull

She was being pushy – or maybe it was needy.  Whichever it was, she could tell by the set of his shoulders that Tony wasn’t thrilled by it.  He shouldn’t feel like the Lone Ranger, because neither was she.  Lilah would practically chew her foot off before foisting herself on anyone, but she’d followed him halfway around the world to ask for this.  

Concert tickets, passport, hotels, flights, trains…  All that had been the easy part.  Once she was finally ‘on the road’ with Bon Jovi, it had taken her nearly half the tour to gather up the nerve to even approach Tony Bongiovi.  Hell’s fire, she was so freaked out that she pretended to not even see him backstage at Manchester.  Once he walked away tonight, there was every chance in the world that she might never find the nerve to try this again again. 

“No,” he answered simply, with finality.

“Please?”  She closed her ears to the quiet plea, feeling like a pathetic wretch, yet unable to keep herself from silently repeating it.

Please…

“Why is this so damn important to you?”

Ask me anything but that.

The desperation that ate at her on a regular basis was one of those things that defied explanation.  Sometimes it was so intense that she felt physical pain from it.  That tidbit of information, along with her belief that she was a little intuitive when it came to other people, would do nothing but get her labeled ‘crazy as a bed bug’. 

Maybe not ‘crazy as a bed bug’…  Taking into account the Jersey personalities involved, it was more likely to be ‘bat shit crazy’.

“Because… “  She thoughtlessly tucked her hair behind her ear, then fiddled with her ever-present gold hoop earring.  Two sure signs that she was nervous as long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “Can’t we just suffice it to say that it’s the real reason I came to Europe?   That you’re the real reason I came to Europe?”

Now he turned, the outside lights glinting off his glasses.  In her vivid imagination, Lilah saw a flashing, neon ‘BAT SHIT CRAZY’ sign blinking across his forehead.

“Me?  I’m the reason you’re following a band around Europe?”  His laugh was pitched high with blatant disbelief.  “Lady, you need a fuckin’ hobby.”

Taking a deep breath, she closed the short space between them and looked up into his face.  “Yes, you.  I mean, I love Bon Jovi, but I’m not going to randomly give up two months of my life to follow them around without a good reason.  My reasons may not make sense to anybody but me, but I consider them damn good.”  She placed a tentative palm against the black t-shirt covering his chest, shivering at the heat he generated.  “You…  made an impact on my life.   Just give me one show.  I’m smart, I’m quiet and I’m an expert at fading into the woodwork.  Other than a few well-placed questions, you won’t even know I’m there.”

He looked down at her hand, and she fought the urge to snatch it away.  The scars were a year old now, but she still wasn’t used to them, or the reaction they caused in other people.  She wanted to laugh when she saw the pity in their eyes, and assure them that the raised, pink flesh was nothing compared to the scars they couldn’t see.

There was no pity in his eyes.  Not that she could decipher, anyway.  Curiosity, yes – maybe even annoyance – but not pity. 

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not my show,” he told her again, backing away from her touch with one step.  “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

“But it’s your brother’s show.”  She was edging toward being what she hated most – a pushy bitch.  Too bad for him it didn’t curb her tongue.  “Talk to him.  He couldn’t possibly object to one inconspicuous woman, who has no interest whatsoever in him.”

“No interest?" he snorted.  "You got a bridge in Brooklyn ya wanna sell me, too?”

“I’m serious!  If I were gonna stalk anybody in the band, it would be Richie.”

“Stalk…”  He let the word hang there distastefully, his mouth a frown within the confines of his dark goatee.

Brilliant Lilah Jane.

“Not stalk in a bad way.  Just information gatherin'.”

“Yeah, right.”

She was veering too far away from the subject at hand.  Her obsession for information was irrelevant – and potentially detrimental – to the here and now.

“You said ‘even if ya wanted to’,” she diverted the topic, hoping this question wasn’t going to be a mistake.  “Do ya want to, Tony?”

He shook his head.  “Look, I’d like to help out – “

Lilah dove into the small but distinct opening head first, before he could qualify his statement any further.  “Then it’s just a matter of getting Jon on board with the idea?”

“Just?” His laughter was a short, quiet bark.  “You’d have a better shot at getting  him to play at the Republican National Convention.  Nobody messes with the formula backstage.”

“But if he was okay with it, you would be?”

It was the first glimmer of hope she’d been given, and she would cling to it with both hands until it was forcibly ripped away from her.  And, from her perspective, Tony was trying to rip with all his might.

He shook his head.  “I’m tellin' ya, that’s never going to happen.”

“But if it did…?”

“Jesus, you’re like a damn pitbull, aren’t you?”

There was a pang in her chest that reached down and coiled her stomach more tightly than a dozen professionally crafted sailor’s knots. 

You knew going in that you might walk away with hurt feelings.  Stop being sensitive and fake it until you make it.    

“I can see where you might think that,” she admitted, automatically tugging again at her earring, and not bothering to correct him.  Following her heart and her instinct was the only thing that mattered right now.  “So… if Jon agrees…?”

His quiet laughter was as effective as a seasoned deckhand, easily unraveling at least a couple of those sailor’s knots.  “Jesus H. Christ.  Yeah.  If Jon tells me to, I’ll do it.”

Squee!

The feeling of accomplishment was so overwhelming that Lilah could barely contain the urge to pump her fist in the air.  She did bounce a little on her toes and had to bite down on her lip.  The grin was so determined to break free that she brought blood with the effort of containing it.   

“I could ab-solutely kiss you right about now.”

That perfect Bongiovi smile flashed in the shadows, catching her off-guard and causing an entirely different pang in her chest.  This one grabbed hold of her lungs instead of her stomach and sent a fiery-hot flush up into her neck.

Yes, he was a handsome man, but she truly hadn’t expected to experience a physical reaction to him.  Neither of her husbands had affected her that way.  In all honesty, Lilah was more of a cerebral person than a physical one.  Loosely translated that made her an awkward geek, but she’d had quite a few years to get used to it. 

This, however, she was not used to.  The feeling was… heady.

“You’re going the wrong direction aren’t you?” he interrupted her ‘buzz’.  “Shouldn’t you be upping the ante instead of downgrading your original offer?”

The small victory and his smile created enough of an adrenaline rush to make her feel sassy.  With a bouncy little step, she was back in his face, palm resting comfortably over his sternum.  The voice that came from her mouth wasn’t her own when she cooed, “You made me so happy that I’d give ya just about anything ya wanted… Tony.”

She slid her palm upward until the gold Superman-shaped charm dangling from his necklace was under her touch.  The Slippery When Wet logo made a cool impression in her fingertips, and she deliberately stroked the precious metal until it warmed.

Tony had a funny smirk on his face, but made no move to either retreat or to touch her.  He stood firm, in a casual stance, hands pushed into the pockets of his jeans.  “A gentleman would tell you not to get too happy, because you’re never going to step foot backstage during a show.”

“A pessimist would tell me that, not a gentleman.”  The dimness was an unexpected blessing, because Lilah knew that heat was creeping up into her face by now, making her look like she’d run a race.  Would her lungs fill enough to allow her to eke out her awkwardly flirtatious, “I think you’re a nice guy, but I don’t know that I would call you a gentleman.”

“You got that right.”  He was speaking quietly enough to feel intimate, and it sent another shiver down her spine.  This shiver stole her sass and her self-confidence.

Don’t you dare cower away!  He hasn't moved.  Kiss the man!

Tempting as it was,  Lilah couldn’t make herself be that girl.  Maybe it was because she was from the “South”, or maybe it was just who she was, but she thought a woman shouldn’t have to throw herself at a man. 

This from the woman who, not half an hour ago, in one of the most forward moves ever, offered to give the man oral gratification.  Way to contradict yourself, Lilah.  

That had been different.  It was a business proposition.  There hadn’t been any shivering then.  That shivering was quite the negotiator, convincing her to qualify her earlier thought.  A woman shouldn’t have to throw herself, but there was nothing wrong with a subtle offer.  

“Wanna prove it?” she brazened, scared to death she was coming across as some skanky slut, but too intrigued to keep quiet.

His hand slowly lifted to his chest, covering hers, and the funny little smirk faded.  He didn’t dip his head, but peered down at her through the bottom of his glasses.  “You’re determined to cause trouble for me, aren’t you?”

“No, sir.  Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Timid people never get anything.  Kiss him!

If he had moved, she would’ve backed off without hesitation.  But he didn’t.  Tony Bongiovi merely continued to peer down at her through lowered lids.  It was enough to cause Lilah to compromise her morals – a little.

Levering up on her toes, she cautiously touched her lips to a spot just to the left of his goatee.  She knew from studying pictures of him that she was kissing the scar that lay between his mouth and his chin.

Tony’s lips parted as though to speak, but he was interrupted by a booming, “First bus back to the hotel for all you lightweights!”

Barreling through the pub’s entrance came Rob Fuzesi, followed by half a dozen fan club members..  Lilah pushed herself away from Tony as though she’d been burned.  “I… I guess that’s my ride,” she stuttered.  “Thank you, Tony.”

Stealing away his opportunity to speak, she sidled around him and scurried toward the other end of the pub.  There, Lilah climbed onto the bus with her heart pounding like crazy, yet curiously light.

He let you kiss him.