December

Hi to all my wonderful, wonderful, faithful readers.  I adore you crazy people.  You know that, right??

That being said...

*ahem*

Please don't kill me.

December is a crazy busy month for me at work and with the holidays and all, it makes things twice as nuts.  I'm not comfortable that I will be able to meet my posting commitments during that time frame, so I'm going to scale back to TWO posts a week instead of three during December.

You guys can choose what days of the week, if you would like.  That truly doesn't matter to me one way or the other.  Just leave your vote and I'll go with the most popular answer.  If I don't get any responses, it will be Sundays and Wednesdays.

FYI... I'm about to do the same thing over on ATR, because Audra isn't in much better shape time-wise than I am.

Two chapters a week is better than none, right??  I'll do my very best to get back on track as as soon as I can.  Promise!!!

Hope you understand.

♥blush

25 - Everybody has Dreams

Her face was flushed. The breathy pants that pushed her lips open begged his kiss. Tony dipped his head claiming her mouth with more possessiveness than he had a right to, tongue marauding its way into the heated confines and demanding that she taste him. The tip of his tongue burrowed under hers, finding that sweet slickness that was so much like the slickness he wanted to bury his cock in.

"Open," he commanded hotly against her mouth. "Let me have you."

She hissed a breathy, "Yes.." and her knees fell apart with invitation. Lilah opened her most intimate self, silently begging for him to fill her.

Without hesitation, he coated himself with her moisture and pushed into her sucking wet folds with a groan of elation. Her sweet little pleasure sounds filled the air and had Tony swelling even more, stretching her walls.

"You feel so damn good," he rasped against her cheek, holding himself fully immersed for a prolonged moment. "Just like I knew you would."

Her moans grew more intense with every stroke, each louder and longer than the one before it. The pitch changed, going deep and sounding more like groans. Not just groans. More like... pain than pleasure.

"Nooo!" she choked out, frantically shoving at his shoulders. "Stop! Make it stop!"

He shook his head with confusion, not understanding what was going on. How had things gone from good to bad so fast? Another muffled cry and he awoke with a violent start, both hard and disoriented in the dark and unfamiliar room. The pitiful mewling coming from the other side of the bed had him turning his head toward Lilah.

"Nooo!" she strangled out before another guttural moan was ripped out of her chest. "Please no!"

Her tortured pleas prompted Tony to quickly bridge the gap between them, and he scooted across the empty expanse of bed to where she lay curled into a tight ball, with her back to him. Tony slid in behind her, touching a gentle hand to her arm.

"Lilah, wake up."

She did nothing more than howl with pain again, squirming away from his touch. "No!"

Curling his fingers over her shoulder in a firm grasp, he shook her lightly and ordered more firmly, “Lilah. Wake up. You're okay."

She jerked under his touch and one hand flew up in a frenzied effort to push him away. Her fingernails dug angrily into the back of his hand and he hurried to soothe her. "Hey, hey. It's just me."

It was enough to make her go stock still under his touch. “Tony,” she breathed in relief and gradually extracted her claws from his hand. Her stiff spine regained some pliability and she slowly uncurled from her frightened fetal position.

Before he could get far enough away, Lilah was rolling onto her back and her hip grazed against his groin, which was still flying at a good half-mast. At the first contact, he retreated back to his side of the bed, far enough that their bodies weren't touching, but that he could still reach out and rest a gentle hand over her forearm.

"Yeah, it's me. Did you have a bad dream?" he asked in an effort to draw attention from his slow-to-fade erection.

The faint light coming from the window was just enough to see her blink slowly at the ceiling. Fear had subsided, but she was clearly still seeing whatever visions had been plaguing her dreams. "Mm. I guess."

"You don't know?"

Her cotton-covered shoulder rasped against the sheets when she shrugged. ”I’m sorry I woke you.”

With her screams still echoing in his head, Tony wanted to shake the indifference from her and hammer at the shell she retreated into. Didn’t this women ever open up? About anything?

“You ever tell anybody what goes on in that head of yours?”

Her hair scraped across the pillow and she squinted up at him in the darkness.  “Not very often.”

Tony had the fleeting desire to be the one she would talk to.  The one she confided in.  It was crazy, and likely a case of him borrowing trouble he didn’t need, but she brought out a side of him that he hadn’t seen in a long while.  The last time he’d been inclined to protect and take care of someone other than his family, he married the girl.

And then she got tired of it and found somebody else.  Somebody who actually was a bad boy instead of just looking like one.

That was another time, and Anouk had never been as alone and battered as Lilah Bennett.  Lilah needed somebody to convince her that it was okay to put down that armor of hers.  God help him and this stupid white knight complex he had when it came to her, but he wanted to be the one to do it.

“Why not?”

“Mm.  Most things I think are best left unsaid.  They tend to make people think I’m an idiot.”

That was pointed at you, big mouth.

Leaving his lower half a safe distance from her, Tony scooted his top half close enough to drape an arm over her waist.  “I’m sorry I called you an idiot,” he apologized quietly in her ear. 

Again with the shrug and that fucking indifference.  “It’s a popular opinion sometimes.”

“It just bugs the hell out of me that you won’t take care of yourself and don’t want anybody else to do it either.”

Silence permeated the room for an uncomfortable length of time.  He was about to nudge her when she spoke softly.  “I can see where you might think that.”

“You telling me I’m wrong?”

“Mm.  I learned a long time ago not to trust anybody else to take care of me, no matter how temptin’ it might be, so I guess that part’s true.  As for the other, suffice it to say that I’m not as obsessive about livin’ as some people are.  That doesn’t mean I’m deliberately careless, though.”

He was a laid back guy.  It took quite a bit to piss him off, but Lilah had honed it to a fine art form. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” he demanded, pulling away and trying in vain to see her face in the darkness.  “You’re not obsessive about living?”

“It means this is one more time when I should have kept my mouth shut,” she sighed and slipped out from under both his arm and the blankets. 

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom.”

Rolling to his side of the bed, Tony planted his feet on the floor between Lilah and the bathroom.  “To pee or to hide?”

“Both.  Go back to sleep."  She waved a flippant hand toward his stomach.  "You were obviously having a good dream.  I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No.”  He reached for the lamp switch, illuminating the room and causing them both to squint and blink painfully. 

“Huh?  What do you mean no?” she asked, one eye squeezed shut and the other peering up at him with incredulity.

“I mean you don’t get to hide.”  He encircled her wrist with his fingers and tugged lightly, until she took the two steps that brought the tips of her toes within inches of his own.  Looking down, he saw that she had shed the penguin pants, leaving naked legs.  The only thing covering her was a Lost Highway shirt that came to mid-thigh.

The erection that he’d finally gotten under control stirred again and the thought of those silky bare legs intertwined with his.

Bad timing, Bongiovi.

“Talk to me, Bluegrass,” he commanded softly, guiding her back to the bed and ignoring the havoc she was wreaking on his body.  Tony sat on the edge of the mattress while she stood between his open legs. “Tell me about your nightmare.”

“I’ve already forgotten.” 

“Bullshit.”

“I have,” she insisted, peering down into his face with sleep-smudged eyes.  “It was about the bazaar, but other than that I don’t remember anything.”

Dark waves framed the face he originally thought no more than ordinary.  Now, he could see the intelligence that lived behind her eyes, the sweetness in the perfect bow of her mouth and the hint of innocence in the few freckles sprinkled across her cheekbones.  She wasn’t a classic beauty, but Lilah’s own special appeal had begun to captivate him a little in the short time he’d known her.  

“Jersey, if you knew how you were lookin’ at me right now, you wouldn’t be.”

The softly spoken words put him at the end of his tether.  Punch-drunk from lack of sleep and a very trying day, Tony wanted nothing more than to look at her that way.  Hell, who was he kidding?  He wanted to do a helluva lot more than look.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Bluegrass.”  Releasing her wrists, he slithered his own hands up the back of her bare legs, from knee to the hem of her shirt and reveling in the softness of her skin.  “I’ve tried to be a gentleman, but right now I have no fucking idea why.”

“What are you sayin’?” she whispered, hands dangling forgotten at her sides while her pupils dilated into the tropical blue-green irises.  The guarded hope he saw there erased whatever iota of reservation still lingered in his mind.  That flicker of hope granted him permission to speak freely.

“I want you.”

Lily-white legs instantly trembled under his palms, and her fingers came to burrow timidly into the back of his hair.  He shivered at the light scrape of fingernails against his scalp.  It felt good and, responding to the shot of desire it provoked, he pushed bold hands under her shirt, cupping the pliable flesh of her backside through thin cotton panties.

“I take it that’s okay?” he murmured, thumbs snaking under the elastic to scrape against the bare skin of her butt cheeks.

“Let me make you feel good,” she agreed, but didn’t agree, gingerly pushing against his shoulders.

He took the hint, releasing her and easing back onto the mattress.  Tony twisted so that his feet were on the bed and his head rested on the pillow, while Lilah sank to her knees and stroked her left palm along the hair roughened front of his shin.  When she reached the hem of the gym shorts, she tugged.

“Take these off.”

“Lilah…”  He wanted that perfect bow wrapped around the head of his cock, but he wanted more than that from her.  What he wanted was for her indifference to turn into another emotion.  He didn’t care what it was – passion, anger... just something that made her feel alive.  And obsessive about living.

“No, Tony.”  She hummed with pleasure when the shorts were kicked away, and immediately curled a firm palm around his stiffness.  “You’ve done enough for me.  Let me do something for you.”

Not allowing him time to protest, she climbed onto the bed without releasing him, making a spot for herself in between his legs.  Her hand pumped while her mouth dipped lower, sucking on that spot where his erection softened into his sac.   Tony couldn’t contain the grunt of pleasure when she worked that tender skin in her lips. 

How did she know that was his hot spot?  That and…

“Oh, Chriiiiissst…” he groaned, plowing his fingers into the top of her hair, trying to control the pleasure she was ripping from him.  Lilah was gently rolling one of his testicles in her mouth with one of those food sex purrs vibrating against the sensitive flesh.  When she gave a hard suck on it, he almost shot off the bed. 

Damn, the woman knows how to use her mouth!

“Jesus, Baby.”  He fisted her hair, trying like hell not to blow his load before he ever felt the slick heat waiting inside her lips.  The first drops of arousal were trickling out and she was quick to take advantage of the lubrication.  Her rapid pumping of his cock grew easier with the beads of moisture. 

It’s about to be a whole lot more than drops.

This wasn’t what he had planned.   They were supposed to be doing this together.  It was time to put an end to this part of the show.  Tony curled his fingers easily around her head, urging her mouth away and warning, “If my cock goes in your mouth, I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s the idea, Jersey,” she purred in between dousing swipes of her tongue over his sac.  “Hasn’t anybody ever sucked you off before?”

His cock jerked violently, anxious to find its home inside that smart little mouth. 

How the hell was he supposed to resist that? 

The hot, wet hollow closed around him with a hum of delight that rivaled cheesecake porn and he thought he was going to lose his mind.  The vibration against him was nothing but pure erotic sensation, and when he looked down to find her cheeks hollowing out with the suction, he let loose with his own deep, guttural moan.

Her tongue bathed him, flicking against all the sensitive spots while she coated him with her saliva, cooing deep in throat all the while.  Her hand pumped him as fast as her mouth and he let go with a quiet howl of pleasured pain when her teeth scraped against the underside of his head.

“Easy there,” he gasped, tugging firmly on her hair. 

She didn’t falter with her determined bobbing and humming against the arousal that was about to blow like Old Faithful.  He lost track of what she was doing, everything becoming a jumble of sensation that had him drawing up tight as his mushroom-tipped head bumped against the back of her throat.

“Ohhh…  fuuuuck…  That’s it…  Suck, baby…  Suck…”

His hips came up off the mattress, inelegantly slamming his release down her throat with a raw, gritty growl.  Lilah didn’t seem to mind, greedily slurping each burst until there was nothing left but spent man.

“Mmm…”  He nudged her to slide upward so that they were face to face.   “That was phenomenal,” Tony praised, immediately seeking the silken skin of her inner thighs.  “Now it’s your turn.”

She chuckled quietly and rolled out of his reach, feet gliding lithely to the floor.  Tucking her hair behind her ears she offered him a smile as she circled the foot of the bed.  “I’m glad you liked it, but don’t worry about me.  All I need is the bathroom.”

She could dream on.  A woman wouldn’t leave his bed unsatisfied.  Call it a male ego thing if you wanted, but he had never left his sex partners wanting, and he sure as hell wasn’t starting with Lilah.  Lilah, who deserved someone to take care of her, because she didn't seem to care enough to do it herself.

“That’s not the way I roll, Bluegrass.”

The bathroom door closed on a soft click, with no reply. 

24 - Pillow Talk

“Wanna smoke?”  Tony offered his brother a cigarette before sliding open the window in Jon’s room and lighting one for himself. 

Jon folded his arms over the Notre Dame logo on his chest and spread his legs in a wide stance, both in an effort to be intimidating, Tony assumed.  “No, I want you to fuckin’ talk.  What the hell is going on with this chick?  Why is she in your hotel room, and better yet, where the fuck did you fly off to after the show?”

The cloud of acrid smoke dissipated into an invisible haze out the window after Tony held it in as long as his lungs could stand.  Nicotine calmed him down.  He needed to be calmed.  The extended shower sure as hell hadn’t done the trick.

 No matter how many times he told himself he was an idiot for caring what this woman did, it didn’t change the fact that he did.  It didn’t change the fact that his fist clenched with the need to hit something – someone – every single time he got a look at those cuts.  It didn’t erase the picture of her lying in the street, bleeding and alone. 

For that matter it didn’t erase the memory of her collapsing into a boneless heap at the show, overheated and dehydrated.  Maybe even concussed, now that he’d felt that knot on her head.

He took another deep drag on his cancer stick.  Nicotine was his friend tonight.  It was the only thing that would keep him from ripping her a new one until she ‘got’ the danger of the situation she’d put herself in.

And now he was going to have to exercise patience enough to tolerate Jon’s inquisition. 

Aiming his puff of smoke through the opening in the window, he willed his muscles to relax so that he could do this casually.

“How many times have I ever left the stadium or arena before all the equipment is stowed?”

“That’s not the point.”

 “How many times, Jon?” he calmly persisted.  The number could be counted on one hand and not use all the fingers.

“I dunno.  A couple at least.”

“Yeah, a couple.  Twice.  I’ve done it exactly twice before tonight.  Once when you blew your calf at Meadowlands.  The other when you screwed up your knee.”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?”  Jon snatched Tony’s cigarettes and lighter, grimacing when the first drag hit the back of his throat.  “These things suck.”

“My point,” he told his older brother, ignoring the criticism of his preferred brand of cigarettes.  “Is that if I left, I had a damn good reason.  Mike made sure everything was taken care of, so just calm the fuck down.”

“I know everything was taken care of, dumbass.”  The decibel level of his voice dropped considerably and he opened the window wider, so that he could blow his own smoke outside.  “I don’t know what was serious enough to make you leave.  Was it her?  Those cuts?  What the hell happened anyway?  And those scars of hers?  And what’s  she doin’ in your room waiting for a rollaway bed?”

Jon had a lot more questions than Tony had answers, and he wasn’t altogether sold on the idea of sharing the answers he did have.

This is your brother.  He might not be keen on Lilah, but he’s always had your back.  No matter what.

“She passed out at the beginning of the show,” he relented on a sigh, dropping his used cigarette butt into a nearly-empty water bottle.  “I guess she got too hot or dehydrated, so Dawn and Abby took her out to get some air, then she disappeared.  I went to her hotel to make sure she was okay.”

“Passed out?  Not tripped or fell or something else I’m going to be liable for?  You didn’t have her sign one of those damn backstage waivers did you?  Fuck!”

“Nice show of sympathy there, Jon.  Jesus!  She passed out.”

“Well, it’s no damn wonder she did.  Wasn’t she wearing a turtleneck?”

Tony scowled at both the reminder and the callous indifference.  Why did Jon dislike Lilah so much?  Did what happened to her really need to be spelled out in graphic detail so that he would show a little compassion?

“Yeah.  She was trying to keep the knife wounds on her neck hidden.  She got attacked by three locals at a bazaar last night.”

Jon’s used butt joined his to float in the remnants of water, and he exhaled sharply before sliding the window closed and leaning against the sill.  Tony sank to sit on the edge of the bed while receiving the next question.  “Why was she by herself in one of those places?  Sounds kinda stupid if you ask me.”

He knew that.  Had thought the same thing himself, in fact.  Yet he had to force himself from responding to Jon’s unfeeling observation. 

“She’s traveling alone, following the band through Europe, which partially answers another one of your other questions.  Lilah is staying with me the rest of the tour.  In my room.”

The shaggy blonde head cocked to the side, his crystalline eyes narrowed.  “No.”

Sticking a finger in his ear, Tony wiggled it then pulled it free again.  His own eyes narrowed, he regarded the man who had always shown the utmost concern for people and their well-being, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“What did you say?”

“I said no.  Don’t let her tangle you up in that.”

The rolling tide of red anger pushed Tony to standing and he used his extra inch of height to scowl down into Jon’s face.  “I don’t know what your beef is with her, but I’m tired of your prick attitude about Lilah.  You have never shown this kind of heartlessness toward someone you don’t even fucking know, and I’m over it.”

“I’m only watching out for you,” Jon groused, pushing him away with a palm on his shoulder.  “This woman is doing everything in the world to push all your buttons and get under your skin.  She’s got some kind of agenda, Tone.”

“I don’t believe it.  I like her, and even if I didn’t, my conscience won’t let me turn my back on her.   I wasn’t asking your permission, Boss…” he practically sneered the word.  “It was just an FYI.  Provided I can convince her stubborn ass, she’s staying with me.  Period.”

Ten kinds of pissed off, Tony took angry strides toward the door.  Hand on the knob, he thought of one more thing.

“Oh, and if she ends up backstage again, don’t be a dick to her like you were today.  Show some of that fucking diplomacy you’re so renowned for.  I mean it.”

✧✧✧

Lilah rolled onto her left hip, wincing as the tender bruise came in contact with the unforgiving floor.  Carpeting gave it the illusion of softness, but that’s all it was.  An illusion.

Suck it up.

She plumped up the pillow that was part of the sleeping pallet she’d put down between the bed and the wall, gently burrowing her head into it with an annoyed sigh.  This was not how her fantasies of spending a night with Tony had gone.  Not one time.

The door to the room opened noisily and closed even louder.  He started talking to himself almost immediately.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Heavy footsteps went to the bathroom, and she heard the light switch click on with a swear, prompting her to maneuver into a sitting position.

“I’m right here,” she said, slipping on her glasses, head now visible above the still-made bed.  While they didn’t have any extra beds, Housekeeping had provided her with extra blankets and pillows so that she hadn’t had to disturb the bedding to make her little pallet.

He frowned.  “Why are you in the goddamn floor?”

“No rollaways.”

He closed his eyes, and by the movement of his mouth and the slight sound, she thought he was counting.  When he reached eight, his eyes eased open.  “Get out of the floor.”

“I’m fine –“

“Don’t tell me you’re fine.   For once, could you just do what I say instead of arguing?”

She snapped her lips together in shock.  Lilah didn’t argue.  She hated to argue, and would avoid it at al costs.  She was just trying to make things easier for him.  It was his room, and he should have the bed.

“But – “

“You’re sleeping in the bed.  End of discussion.”

Caught between anger and arousal, Lilah rose to her feet.  If nothing else, at least she could reason with him better this way.  She folded one arm over her waist and pulled at the gold hoop in her right ear.  “It’s your room.  You’re not sleeping in the floor.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, kicking off his shoes and peeling the shirt over his head.  He tossed the black cotton toward his duffel.  “We’re both sleeping in the bed.”

The phrase “cat’s got your tongue” was entirely applicable here.  Or, maybe, to offer a local flavor, it was “camel’s got your tongue”.  Whatever the critter, it had swooped in and stolen her ability to speak.  The double-whammy of his casual declaration and seeing his chest for the first time – the one she’d tried to imagine over and over again – rendered her dumb.  For real.

Tony was unaware of her predicament, lifting the pillows to pull back the covers on a bed that had seemed huge when she first walked in the room.  Now, however, it seemed no wider than those horrible bunk beds at sleep-away camp. 

Eyes riveted to the mat of fur that covered his torso, she could do nothing but stare.  It was sexier than she could have possibly imagined.  It was thick and dark from the base of his neck to the elastic waistband of his gym shorts.  Funny that the slight roundness of his belly didn’t detract from the appeal at all.  In fact, it made him all the more real for her.  He was a man, not an unattainable fantasy.

Gettin’ the cart before the horse there aren’t you, Lilah Jane.  Just because he’s crawling into the same bed he wants you to sleep in doesn’t mean you’ve ‘attained’ squat.  Other than sexual frustration, that is.

“You got a thing for chest hair?”

Her eyes snapped guiltily up to his face.  For the first time since he’d come knocking on her door tonight, he was smiling.  It wasn’t a full-fledged, picture-perfect smile.  It was a bemused little grin, like he thought her rapt fascination with his chest was funny.

“Just yours.” 

The words escaped before she could censor them, and blood rushed to her neck, face, ears, scalp – pretty much everywhere someone could blush, she did.  The embarrassment at her candid response was only intensified when his smile evaporated and his eyes clouded.

“That’s not why I asked you to share my room,” he reminded gently, an invisible thread of tension wound through the words.

Of course it’s not.  You’re here because he thinks you’re stupid, not because he wants you.

Blinking away the prickling sensation behind her lids, she lifted a caustic eyebrow.  “Well, that’s a relief.  It’s a little creepy to think you might want me here to comb your chest.  Or worse yet, put it into corn rows.”

Her offbeat sense of humor was enough to break the tension, coaxing a laugh from him.  Still smirking, he climbed between the sheets and put his glasses on the bedside table.  “Get some sleep, Bluegrass.  Tomorrow’s another long fucking travel day.”

She nodded, folding back the covers on her side and slipping in.  Lilah got into a comfortable position on her right side, facing the wall and as near the edge of the mattress as she could without falling off.  Her glasses hit the opposite bedside table as his and she tried to settle in, unsure as to whether she could ever relax enough to fall asleep beside him.

Beside him?  Takin’ some poetic license there aren’t you?  There’s half a football field between the two of you.

It was true.  The magical bed had gone from huge, to tiny, and back to huge.  When he extinguished the light, she could almost pretend she was in bed alone.

But she wasn’t.

She was in bed with Tony Bongiovi.

Lilah stifled a disappointed sigh, coming to the abrupt decision that, if she didn’t get his body in bed, she could at least have his mind.

“Jersey?”

“Yeah?”

“There was a question I wanted to ask you at the stadium, but…  things happened before I got a chance.”

“You mean you hit the ground with a heat stroke.”

She scowled petulantly even though he couldn’t see her face.  “No.  That’s not what happened, and it’s also not the point.  Can I ask my question now?”

“Only if I can ask one, too.”

What in the world could he want to ask her?  And did she let her curiosity about that override the question she’d been waiting for months to have answered?

“Okay, I guess.”  Another two minutes wasn’t going to matter in the grand scheme of things, she supposed. She rolled onto her back, the ceiling nothing but a black blanket above her.

“If it wasn’t a heat stroke, what was it?  You pass out cold on a regular basis?”

If he’d been spoiling for another argument, it would have been easy to refuse to answer.  His tone was conversational, not confrontational, and it was the only reason she told him the complete truth. 

“I still knew where I was, so I didn’t pass out cold.   I hadn’t been feelin’ well all day.  No food, no water, bumps, bruises and the heat all piled up on me.  It was a weak moment, that’s all.”

“No food or water?  Whaddaya mean?”

She sighed, dreading this.  “I’ll tell you, but you don’t get to call me stupid, stubborn, an idiot or any of those other terms of endearment you’re so fond of.  We move on to my question with no additional commentary.  Deal?”

“You can try.”

“No.”  The pillow rustled under her head as she sought to make out his silhouette in the darkness.  “That’s not negotiable.”

“Tell me,” he grunted, and Lilah assumed that was as close to an agreement as she was going to get. 

“I hadn’t had anything to eat since Dublin yesterday mornin’.”

“Goddammit, Lilah, that’s-”

“Let it go,” she interrupted quietly.  “I grabbed some dinner when I got back to the hotel, and it’s over.  Now…”

“You need a fucking keeper,” he grumbled.

“Hush and answer my question, please.”

Tony grumbled again, this time unintelligibly so that she couldn’t make out the words.  It was probably just as well.

“My question is about the camera shots.”

“Mm.” The neutral grunt told her that he was listening, and Lilah’s fingers absently wrapped around the gold hoop in her right earlobe and tugged.

You’re about to find out whether this is fate, or a fanciful fabrication from one of those stories you read.  Do or die time, Lilah Jane.

“More specifically, the shots that go up on the big screen.  Do you always choose what goes up there?  I mean, that’s not something that just happens randomly.  Is it?”

“There’s a formula to it.  Certain songs have cues.  Guitar solos are Richie, keys are Dave, if Jon’s trolling the crowd, we follow him.”

That wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

“But what about the crowd shots?  The random fans who see their faces up there.  Do they have you to thank for that?”

“They have the camera operator to thank first, but I make the final choice as to what goes on the screen.”

The tingling started in the soles of her feet.

“Every time?”

“Yeah.  Every time.”

Lilah squeezed her eyes shut as every hair on her arms stood straight up, the skin pimpling around it.  The flesh on her thighs was pimpled just as tightly and her knees quivered enough to make her grateful that she was lying down.  If not, she would’ve had to hang onto something to keep from hitting the ground. 

All of this was accompanied by an infusion of warmth that flooded her heart, making it swell to twice its normal size.  A squishy rhythm pounded in her chest while a single tear snuck out and slithered its way onto the pillow.

It was him. 

“Thank you, Jersey.” 

For everything…

Saturday Post

There will be no new chapter posted today. Between vacation and Thanksgiving, I haven't gotten the next one ready yet.  I apologize, but expect to get production back on track for Monday's post. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

Enjoy the rest of your weekend!!!

23 - No Room for Discussion

Tony wheeled her suitcase into a hotel room that looked just like any other hotel room, despite the fact that it was in the Intercontinental.  Oh, and that it was his.  And that there was only one king-sized bed.  And that there was no sofa. 

The overwhelming presence of that single bed got her mind to reeling, making her thankful that she’d managed to eat and take a couple more ibuprofen before he came knocking at her door.  But with the way he’d been acting, she was afraid to blurt out the questions – one question, really – that was now echoing loudly in her head. 

We’re sleeping in the same bed?

He’d been unusually – in her experience with him – quiet on the taxi ride from the Hippodrome.  Other than asking for the details of the attack, which she only grudgingly provided in the vaguest of details, he didn’t say much of anything.  He was probably still annoyed that it had taken so long to bully her into staying with him. 

After his shocking declaration about the remainder of the tour, she had been both flabbergasted and touched, but staunchly stood her ground, refusing to submit to his belief that she needed a babysitter.  It had almost come to the point of a Mexican standoff when he gave all appearances of abruptly backing down.

They key word being ‘appearance’.

“If that’s the way you want it, then I’ll just spend the night here.  Woulda been nice to have a shower and some clothes that don’t reek of sweat, but if you don’t mind the smell, that’s cool.”

With that, he plopped into the room’s only chair and slouched down into the cushions.  With a sluggish swipe over the nape of his neck, Tony took his time in crossing his legs and allowed his head to loll against the padded back of the chair. 

It was borderline melodramatic, but had exerted just enough pressure on her guilt button to have Lilah re-thinking her stance.  She didn’t want him – or anybody, for that matter – making changes in plans because of her. 

The pronounced cracking of bone as he wearily twisted his neck back and forth had her asking herself what difference it made where she slept tonight. 

However, she did make it clear that this was a one-night only thing just to get him out of her hotel room and into some clean clothes.  After this, she fully intended honor her current hotel reservations throughout Europe.

His only response had been to shove to his feet with a non-committal grumble, and tell her he would be waiting at the front door of the hotel in ten minutes.  From his further grumbling, she gathered that he needed a smoke “in the worst way”.   

Now, on the fifth floor of Istanbul’s finest hotel, he mutely guided her luggage to a spot beside the dresser where his own black duffel lay open.  Leaving her to drop her computer case in the desk chair, Tony reached a hand into his bag and fished out what looked to be a pair of gym shorts and dark t-shirt. 

The stiffly set jaw and terse lines squiggling across his forehead had her nerves dancing a little bit.  She was starting to feel like a teenager who had been taken into the custody of an unwilling guardian, and it kind of ticked her off.  This had been his idea, not hers.  

Showing much more restraint on her smart mouth than she had with Jon earlier in the day, Lilah leaned against the wall and crossed her ankles.  The denim of the jeans she was now wearing scuffed against her white leather Keds and she crossed her arms over Jon’s face on the front of her t-shirt before remarking, “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“You told me to stop yelling at you.”

The reply was uttered so immediately and in such a monotone voice that she was temporarily put off by it.  Her mouth opened and closed while her mental circuits flipped through a catalog of questions, rapidly deciding which one was most pertinent.

“You’re still mad?”

The muscle in his jaw ticked with anger, delivering the answer ahead of his verbal admission.  “More than I was before.”

“Why?”

His clothes went from folded to wadded when his right hand curled into a fist.  “Because I don’t fucking understand you, that’s why!  You have my phone number.  Why didn’t you call me?  Or at least tell me about it instead of hiding it?”

It was a question she’d been half-expecting.  A perfectly natural reaction to feeling helpless, she supposed, was to pretend that the opportunity to ‘do’ something had been taken away.  Her sigh was inaudible she answered with a quiet, “Because there was nothing to be done but move on.”

He clenched his back teeth, making the line of his jaw rigid as stone.  “You’re an idiot.  You could be lying dead in a fucking back-alley somewhere and for some reason that’s not worth mentioning.”

Lilah felt a sharp stab in her chest where his insult cut her.  It hurt worse than either of the knife wounds from the night before. 

“I’d rather you yell than call me names,” she informed him, chin lifted proudly at the same time her mouth flattened.  “And I’m not ‘dead in a fucking back-alley somewhere’.”

“But you could be!”

“But I’m not!  Stop bitchin’ at me about somethin’ that didn’t happen.”

With each exchange he inched closer and closer until Lilah was forced tilt her head back to see his face.  Mere inches above hers, vibrant blue eyes were snapping like live power lines, his mouth screwed into an unpleasant scowl.  He was so close that the moist heat of his breath washed over her cheeks.

“You are the most goddamned stubborn woman…” 

The low growl was borne of frustration, but it was so quiet and in such intimate proximity that it affected her.

“No,” she murmured over a shiver.  “I’m really not.” 

Lilah was a little overwhelmed by the bulk of his body so close to hers.   He was all but surrounding her with his presence.  Yes, he’d kissed her that one time, but there hadn’t been this kind of energy flowing  between them.  It was creating chill bumps…  everywhere.

Lilah Jane, he’s upset with you.  Don’t go gettin’ turned on by it!

He let his chin drop to his chest with a soft curse before spinning on his heel.  “I’m gonna take a shower,” Tony nearly barked.  “Will you call and ask them to send up a rollaway bed?”

That answers your question about the sleeping arrangements.

Her shoulders slumped when the tension eked out of the taut muscles there, along with maybe a bit of disappointment.  Biting back a huff of disgust at her errant libido, she let the back of her head ‘thunk’ dully against the wall and dredged up an ounce of politeness.

“Of course.”

She doubted he even heard her before the bathroom door closed.

✧✧✧

July 9, 2011

To: aussie_angel; Morgan_Prince

FROM: misslilahjane

First, let me preface this by saying that I’m not doing crack, smoking weed or under the influence of any other mind-altering drugs. 

As I write this, I’m sitting in a room at the Intercontinental Hotel.  Not a penthouse suite, not even a deluxe room, but it has WiFi (thank you, Jesus) and a comfortable king size bed.  It’s a far cry from the modest (crappy) accommodations that the Hippodrome Hotel had to offer.  Why, you might ask, did I switch hotels?  One of New Jersey’s very persistent sons decided I needed a traveling companion throughout the remainder of my European adventure.

So, yeah, I said all that when I could have really just said, “I’m staying in Tony’s hotel room with him.”

*holds hand to heart*

Get your minds out of the gutter!!  It’s all very non-raunchy and non-sexual, so don’t go there.  I’m like a freaking deer in headlights.  I thought maybe saying it “out loud” would bring me back to my senses, so I’m sending out a quick e-mail while he’s in the shower. 

*face palm*

What the hell am I DOING here??

Lilah repeated the question to herself as she stole a glance at the closed bathroom door.  He had been in there for a long time now, it seemed.  Long enough to make the requested phone call to the front desk and be assured that housekeeping would be right up, trade her jeans for her pajama pants and squirrel her bra away into her suitcase, and dash off a quick e-mail to the online girls.  She would call Jo for a long overdue chat from the airport tomorrow.

How long does a man’s shower take?

She was getting antsy, wondering if he was now avoiding her and her annoying personality.   Or if he needed this long to cool his temper?  Or…  She was ready to wind up into a thousand other ‘or’ scenarios when the blessed reprieve came disguised as a knock on the door.  Housekeeping had arrived with the rollaway.

Bare feet squished in the carpet when she padded over to the door, and popped up on tip-toe to squint out the peephole.  Then she dejectedly sank to her heels.  That sinking extended well-beyond her heels into her stomach. 

It wasn’t housekeeping.

It was Jon. 

Did she answer the door, or not?  It wasn’t her room, and the man who was probably paying for it might not appreciate her being here.

Tony practically dragged you here.  You’re not an intruder.  Answer it!

Taking a deep breath, she decided that she owed him an apology, anyway, and swung the door wide.

“Where the hell did you-“  It took him that many words to unglue his attention from an invisible point down the hall to the open doorway and register that it wasn’t his brother standing there.  “You're not Tony.”

Trying her damnedest not to be insulted by the way his face hardened as his eyes raked over her bare feet and pajamas, she smiled congenially.  “Hello, Jon.  He’s in the shower.”  Taking a step backward, she invited, “D’you wanna come in and wait?  I think he should be about finished…”

“I…”  A flash of uncertainty crossed his face, which she found oddly out of character.  Wasn't he the man who went at everything with no reservation?  “I don’t wanna intrude.”

“No intrusion.”  Leaving him to catch the door, she took the few steps necessary to resume her seat at the desk.  The chair swiveled to the left under her weight and she felt her ponytail swing the momentum.  “I was just emailing a friend.”

“Jesus,” he ground out after the door closed.  She looked up to find his face covered with... Not disgust, really, but something in that neighborhood.  “What the hell happened to your neck?”

Brilliant move as always, there, Madame Awkward. Why would you let him see that side of you?  

“Oh, this?” she asked, touching casual fingertips to the still-tender slices and playing it off.  “I cut myself shaving.”

“That looks like – “

“Jon," she interrupted gently.  "These kinda things beg people to ask questions they really don’t wanna know the answers to.  You don’t have to be polite.  I, however, owe you an apology for this afternoon.  I didn’t mean to appear rude or ungrateful, but I... wasn’t feeling very well.  That was very much out of character for me, and I’m truly sorry for being a bitch.”

Jon was spared - or maybe it was Lilah who was spared - the obligation of replying when the bathroom doorknob turned and Tony emerged.  She always got a bit of a thrill upon seeing him, but this time she considered him nothing short of a blessing.  Mad at her or not, his presence served as a buffer.

“Jon, what’s up?”  Tony’s brow wrinkled with concern and he slicked a hand over his wet hair. 

“I came to see why you hightailed it out and left your shit to the crew.”

Lilah fidgeted under Jon's discerning gaze, feeling very much in the way.  “I can go downstairs if you two want some privacy,” she offered, anxious to be away from the man who still considered her a...  

Cockroach?  

“No.”  Tony’s reply was almost harsh.  “I need a smoke anyway.  We’ll go downstairs or to Jon’s room.  Did you call for the rollaway?”

“Yes.”

He slipped on a pair of shoes while Jon quietly watched the two of them with interest. 

“Thanks.  I won’t be long.”

“Take as long as you want.  I’ll be fine.” 

Tony picked up his room key and cigarettes from the dresser, and both men departed without another word, leaving Lilah to bury her head in the laptop screen.  With a heavy sigh, she clicked on the first of two unread emails, intent upon burying the feelings of rampant inadequacy Jon continually provoked in her.  The quirky part of her would love to tell her two Jon girls that he just left her hotel room, but she was afraid she’d already told more Bongiovi stories than she should.  

July 9, 2011

To: misslilahjane

FROM: Morgan_Prince

Have I ever told you I hate it when you drag out the details in fourteen paragraphs? The one relevant paragraph, sentence really, is simply "I'm staying in Tony's hotel room with him."

Having said that....WTF?  You're delusional if you think it's non-raunchy and non-sexual.  No man shacks up with a woman without 'raunchy' or 'sexual’ coming into play.  HELLO!  Not that there's anything wrong with that, but the fact that YOU DON'T SEE IT is of concern to me.  What the hell is going on over there?   I'm all for a little harmless fun and riding motorcycles with hot men you don't really know...but now you've kinda sorta crossed a line....we don't know one thing about this guy.   Why is he putting you in HIS hotel room without the benefit of raunchy sex?  Seriously!   *sniff sniff* Something stinks...what are you NOT telling me? Because any idiot would know there's more to this story.

She sighed again, disappointed that the ever-perceptive Morgan had sensed something more was at play than a rampant case of lust.  The situation must have been truly transparent, because even Angel remarked on it.  It wasn’t with the same blatant skepticism as Morgan, but still…

July 9, 2011

To: misslilahjane

FROM: aussie_angel

What the...WHAT?????  You're sharing a room with Tony???  You go from spending the day backstage with him to sharing a room???  You're leaving out details that I NEED!!  Omg Li-Lee!  What have you done with my super independent friend?  Why did he decide you needed a travelling companion?  What have you not told me?  Are you THAT great of a kisser?  Hmm?  *giggles*  You are full of surprises these last few days, Miss Li.  I NEED more details!  Hurry UP!  !!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!

~A~

PS)  Does he snore?  *wink*

When she wanted her friends to be blindly happy with what she said, they instead questioned what she didn’t say.  That was just too bad in this case.  She refused to offer them the faintest clue about what happened at the bazaar, because they would only worry and smother her with electronic concern.  Take Tony, for instance.  He didn’t even know her and had some warped sense of responsibility, despite the fact there was nothing he could do about it.  

The electronic buzzing of the telephone echoed loudly against the desk, sounding like an air raid siren in the quiet hotel room and causing Lilah to jump in her seat. 

“Shit,” she breathed, with a hand clasped to her chest as she reached for the receiver.  “Hello?”

“Yes, this is housekeeping," a heavily accented voice greeted her.  "I regret to inform you that we are unable to locate a spare rollaway bed at this late hour.  I am very sorry for the inconvenience.”

22 - New Reservations

The tepid water trickled down her cheeks, symbolic of the tears that wouldn’t come.  That Lilah refused to allow.

You single-handedly messed up the single most important moment of your life so far.  Cryin’ is not an option and you deserve the damn thumpin’ of your head.

Several taxis had been waiting at the back gate, and it was effortless for her to slide, virtually unnoticed, in to the back of one.   Any staffers that were hanging around had come on duty long after she arrived that morning, and they had paid her no mind. 

Sighing, she turned the shower off and reached for a towel with shaking hands.  As she swiped it over the cuts that were now stinging because they’d been swimming in perspiration most of the day, she thought of food.  Eating probably should have been more of a priority when she got out of the stadium, but she was so far past the point of actually being  hungry that a shower had sounded so much better.

She did kick herself another time for not booking a hotel with room service.   It was ridiculously priced food delivery, but at least she would be able to eat without getting dressed. 

After her shower, she was no longer sweltering, but she was tired, disgusted and generally disenchanted with living.  That meant she was going to wear cotton shorts and a tank top to the hotel restaurant, regardless of what the dress code was.  As a matter of fact, she likely wouldn’t even bother drying her hair, but would pull the wet mass into a clip and forget it.

What difference did it make who saw her scars? 

✧✧✧

“Thanks, Mike.  I owe you one.”  Tony disconnected the call and impatiently waited for the elevator to arrive at Lilah’s floor.

He wanted a smoke, and he wanted it bad, but there had been no time.  The minute the encore was over, Tony had hauled ass out of there, leaving the clean-up to his crew.  He might pay for his neglect later, when Jon found out, but right now he didn’t give a shit.  They had competent people who knew what had to be done, and Tony didn’t have to be there to hold their hands.

Shoving the phone into his pocket, he blew out an exasperated breath, hoping he could control his temper through this.

Adrenaline had kicked him into overdrive as soon as he saw her hit the ground, but there was nothing he could do.  He was effectively tied to the video board the minute the show started.  The only thing he’d been able to do was yell for Dawn and Abby, and hope that they would make sure Lilah was alright. 

His relief had been short-lived when Dawn and Abby returned to the stage without her, though.  Leaving her alone to …  To run away of all things.

He growled in the back of his throat, lifting a fist to knock on her door.  For the sake of his sanity, he was relieved when it  opened after only a moment. 

“Tony.  What are you doing here?”

More tension than he realized he was holding in his shoulders bled out when he saw her.  That was quickly followed by the relaxing of muscles in his chest, allowing his heartbeat to return somewhere near normal.   It didn’t mean she was off the hook, though.  She looked better than at the stadium, but not by much.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here?  Making sure you’re still alive!”  He didn’t wait for an invitation into her room, but put a palm on the door and pushed it wide enough to brush past her.  “What the hell is wrong with you?  I told you to dress for the heat, and you didn’t.  You didn’t drink anything all day and then, when I can’t do a goddamn thing to help you, you hit the ground with a fuckin’ heat stroke or whatever.”

“Stop yelling at me.”

The door closed quietly at her hand before she folded defensive arms over her red tank top and looked at the floor to keep from facing his frustrated anger.  When Tony registered the fact that her scars crept all the way down to the middle of her bicep, he got even more pissed. 

“Call me fucking crazy!  I yell when people I care about hit the floor in a dead faint and then disappear without a word!” 

“I’m sorry that…”  Lilah’s eyes snapped up, and her pretty forehead wrinkled with incomprehension.  “Wait.  Wha…  What did you say?”

“Christ, Lilah, of course I care about you.”  With a single knuckle and a sigh, he nudged her chin upward, his eyes devouring the physical evidence of her harrowing day.  “I’ve gotten to know –“ 

His words broke off when his eyes found the angry red gash that started less than an inch from where his finger lay beneath her chin.  Tony gently edged her face to the left so he could follow it to its source, below her earlobe, where he found its mate running in another direction.

It took every ounce of restraint he had not to lose his cool at the crudely carved number ‘7’ on her neck.  The cigarette he’d been craving would’ve been very helpful about now.

“What happened?” he tersely bit out through clenched teeth, his voice deadly quiet.

She jerked her chin out of his grasp and laid an open palm over the cuts.  It still wasn’t enough to cover them both, but she was trying.  “It’s nothing.”

He’d had enough of her trying to pretend everything was fucking sunshine and roses.  He wasn’t playing this game anymore. 

“Goddammit, don’t give me that.  What.  Happened?”

She folded herself into the room’s only chair, tugging the hem of her shorts down and then reaching up to fiddle with one of her earrings.    The way she held herself, so stiffly, you’d think he was the one who wanted to cut her. 

“I went to the Grand Bazaar last night.”  A negligent shoulder lifted in an effort to downplay her next words.  “I ended up in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong group of men.”

Lilah was going to give him a fucking stroke.  That’s all there was to it.  He could feel the vein in his temple blow up like a damn balloon.  All he had to do was wait, and it would split wide open.

He.  Needed.  A.  Smoke.

Crossing to her, he stifled his own visceral reaction, and sank into a crouch before her.  “Men?  How many men?”

“Three.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked carefully, hoping to God…

“No, not really.  I just have a couple of bruises and knot on my head, where I fell.”

For the second time since he’d stepped foot inside her room, the contracted muscles of his chest relaxed enough to let his heart resume a normal rhythm.  Why was she his to worry about?  Why did he give a damn? 

Because she’s got nobody else within a thousand miles, and you’re here.  That makes her your responsibility.

“Show me.”

“They’re not that –“

“Goddammit, show me!”

Her eyes flew as wide and round as her mouth’s ‘O’ of surprise when he sprang to his feet with the barked command.  Tony couldn’t blame her.  He was kind of surprised at his own adamancy, but she’d gone to the trouble of hiding knife wounds.  God only knew what else she was hiding.

Without a word, she stood, sliding the waistband of her shorts down over her left hip.  There was an ugly, purple bruise about the size of a baseball right on the fullest part of the smooth, pale flesh.

“C’mere.”  This order was issued with much more civility than the last, and she stepped within the reach of his extended hands without a peep of protest.   After he released the hair clip and tossed it into the chair, tender fingertips immediately began scouting along the sides of her head for the knot she mentioned.  The golf-ball-sized wound wasn’t hard to find, and she sucked in a pained breath at his prodding.

The soft little gasp did something to him. 

“Sorry, sweetheart.”   He lightly propelled her forward so that he could touch his lips to the affected area.  It wouldn’t ease the pain, but it was the only thing he could think to do.    

The fresh, clean smell of her shampoo tickled his nose and her soft snuffle of surprise curled a fist into his gut.  Before he could analyze the whys of his actions, or talk himself out of it, Tony took her in his arms, gently tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder.

Lilah stiffened, then sighed into the black fleece of his jacket and closed her eyes.  The tears that escaped from behind tightly squeezed eyelids weren’t from pain, either emotional or otherwise, they were… 

They were her defenses coming down for the first time in well-over a year. 

The smell of him – solid man tinged with faint, nostalgic hints of cigarette smoke – comforted her in a way that nothing else had been able to so far.  His silent strength acted as a pillar on which she could lean, and she felt safe resting there for a bit, knowing that she would give the strength back with interest. 

She would. 

In the meantime, was it too much to ask for this moment to go on for…  a while?  She could – and would – be just fine without his brawny arm snugged up under her shoulder blades.  His gentle hand cradling her head wasn’t necessary.  She didn’t need somebody else in order to be whole.

But it felt so, so good. 

“This is why you wore the damn turtleneck?”

She nodded mutely.  “I don’t need your pity.”  Her watery voice was muffled against his shoulder, the reminder more for herself than him.

The tears bottle-necked in her throat, precariously clogging her airway before falling out on a hiccupped sob when he growled, “Good thing I don’t feel a goddamn bit sorry for you then.  I’m only hugging you to keep from choking you.”

Despairing fingers curled into the fabric at the dip of his spine, and her shoulders quaked with the force of the long-denied tears.  As they poured free, Tony softly stroked her hair and held her for long, uncounted minutes, until the sobs finally began to subside. 

“Pack your stuff.  You’re coming with me.”

The unexpected words served as a boarding call for her departing flight from Fantasy Island.  Her infrequent moment of weakness was snatched away, and she went rigid with panic at the suddenness of it.  Lilah struggled, trying twist free of his iron-clad grip. 

“I… I can’t do that,” she sniffled, swiping at her cheek with one hand.

“Yes, you can.”

Her hair swished around her shoulders when she frantically shook her head.  The suggestion made her heart sing in one respect, but it unceremoniously shoved every fiber of her being into a place that wasn’t even in the same zip code as her comfort zone. 

She couldn’t just stay in his room, using it as some kind of flop house for wayward travelers.  Her pride wouldn’t allow it, and she didn’t need a babysitter.  If things between them were more… involved, that might change her mind, but even then, Lilah didn’t know the details of what his offer/order entailed, and she couldn’t blindly rely on anyone that way.

“I’m fine here.”

“You tell me one more time that you’re ‘fine’ and I really am gonna choke you,” he declared, scowling and shaking her lightly.    “You’re not fine, and I’m not leaving you here alone.  Why the hell are you traveling by yourself anyway?”

The truth of the matter was that nobody else had been crazy enough to spend the time or money this little jaunt required.  

“Two months is a commitment that not everyone is willing, or able, to make.”   

“Yeah, well…”  He frowned, finally allowing her out of his arms.  “I’m committing to the next three weeks.  Cancel your hotel reservations.  You’re staying with me for the rest of the tour.”

21 - I Feel the Earth Move

“What the hell was that all about, man?  I’ve never seen you talk to a fan that way.”  Lounging in Jon’s dressing room doorway, Richie watched his friend tie his shoe, still dumbstruck at his behavior toward the Lilah woman.  Not that she hadn’t held her own – pretty damn admirably, in fact – but he was confused as to why she’d been forced to. 

After her shot about it ‘not being all about him’, the Southern Belle had smiled sweetly to soften the jab.  It was enough to encourage the others around the table to laugh a bit awkwardly and allow the Tension Train to chug on through without further casualty.  Everyone had slowly drifted away, with Jon being the first to excuse himself.

Letting his foot fall from the low table in front the sofa, Jon scowled up at him.  “That’s because she’s not a fan.  Didn’t you hear?”

“Damn.”  He’d heard the story about the Q&A, but still…  With a shake of his shaggy head, Richie asked in wonder,  “This girl has done what to piss you off?”

Jon stood, huffing out a huge, hissing breath before bouncing on his toes and stretching out his shoulders.

“She hasn’t done anything.  Yet.  But if she fucks my brother over…”  The unfinished threat dangled in the air.

“There a particular reason you think that’s gonna happen?”

“I don’t like the way this whole thing has gone down.  Lilah Bennett has an ulterior objective in being here.  Probably something to do with the band.”

Richie laughed, earning himself a dirty look that only made him laugh harder. 

“What is so fucking funny, Sambora?”

“You.  More specifically, your conceit.”  He scratched his head with an exaggerated inspection of the little room.  Richie pointedly looked from floor to ceiling and wall to wall.  “How the hell did you squeeze your head in this place?”

“Not that I’m denying the conceit, but what’s your point?”

“My point…” He stepped forward and slung an arm around Jon’s shoulders, so he could give him a little shake.  “…is that little Lilah is right.  It ain’t all about you.  TBJ has been known to get his own pussy.  Who’s to say this girl hasn’t trekked all over Hell and a half-acre just to meet him?  Innocent until proven guilty, man.  Innocent until proven guilty.”

✧✧✧

Tony finished his cigarette and flipped the butt aside, believing that he might be calmer now.  Jon was usually the most polite and politically correct of all of them.  He had no idea what the fuck had come over his egomaniacal rock star brother, nor did he have time to find out.  It was too close to show time.

To Lilah, he pretended nothing was wrong, taking her back under the stage and introducing her to Dawn and Abby, the wardrobe mistresses for Jon and Richie.  She had taken an immediately liking to the quirky Abby who, at the moment, was giving her an up-close-and-personal look at the infamous Sambora Stetson.  It’s what was allowing him the opportunity to smoke his annoyance away.

Part of it, anyway.

He was still aggravated that Lilah was wearing a damn turtleneck, wouldn’t even pull her hair away from her face, refused to eat, refused to sit if he wasn’t sitting.  Even then, she wouldn’t always sit.  She asked the occasional intelligent question, but was otherwise a silent sponge, absorbing everything he told her with a thoughtful nod.   He could see that she got it. 

All of it, and he was suitably impressed.

She was smart, but he had some reservations about her common sense.

✧✧✧

Lilah kept a polite smile in place as she discreetly rubbed the knot on her head.  Abby was very sweet to take time out of her day so that Lilah could see Richie’s hats, but the woman was perky.  Perky required energy to keep up, and energy was in short supply for Lilah.  She hated slighting this opportunity to touch the black felt that had been photographed hundreds of times, but she would be happier sitting in a dark corner and closing her eyes for just a few minutes.

“Bluegrass?  It’s time, Babe.”

The shot of adrenaline from that casual ‘Babe’ was much needed and appreciated.  If she had the nerve, she would kiss him here in the Jovi Underworld in front of whoever happened to be wandering around. 

It was out of character for her, but, after today she knew more than ever that this trip was worth it.  Seeing his interaction with other people, the respect he earned from crew members by showing his respect for their capabilities, watching him laugh and exchange half-hearted insults with his friends…  It all combined to cement the Tony of her mind into the flesh and blood man who was all that and more. 

The man she came closer and closer to believing was…  If she could just find out the answer to that last pressing question, she would be certain.

“Thank you so much for showin’ me around, Abby.  I really enjoyed it.”

“Oh, no problem!  Enjoy the show.”

Lilah nodded and turned to follow Tony back to his board.  When he settled himself on the rolling, black desk chair she stood behind him and resisted the temptation to knead his bunched shoulders.  “If I upset you earlier, I’m sorry.  And I’m sorry I was a bitch to Jon.  If you could let him know that, I’d appreciate it.”

Sliding an earpiece in place, he turned to look at her curiously.  “You don’t owe anybody an apology, now strap in.  It’s about to get loud.”

Choosing not to belabor the point, she simply nodded and picked up her camera, stepping back to get a few shots of him at work. 

“Do you have time for one last question?” 

Her answer came in the form of the band’s familiar silhouettes on the monitor and the low rumble of the opening segment that shook the underside of the stage.  Unsteady to start with, Lilah reached out a hand to sturdy herself and drew a deep breath.  The vibrations were disorienting and had turned the ache in her head to an army of piercing daggers.

“Lead with camera one and then zoom in with three.  We’ll go to the circle cam right after.”

His voice was a dull murmur under the electronic wind and whirring and, while she damned the missed opportunity for her question, it might be that her answer would come in a different way.

The band members rushed under the stage, slapping hands with the staffers as they passed.  Jon went behind her, to bounce on the center stairs while Richie, Tico and Hugh ascended on the other side of Tony. 

Maybe it was her eyes playing tricks on her in the dim lighting, but, as her fingers curled a death grip around the support post at her side, she could swear that Richie winked at her.  A hot flash rolled over her, inciting a wave of nausea and she cursed the stupid turtleneck for the umpteenth time that day. 

Would it have been so horrible to let him see the cuts?  As perspiration trickled down into her cleavage, she thought that, at least, she would have spent the day a few degrees cooler.

The band launched into their opener and Jon bounded up the stairs. 

Lilah, gasped, having had no idea how intensely she was going to feel the music from such close proximity.  The bass drum pounded in her chest so hard that she thought her sternum would crack from the pulsations.  Her arms were vibrating.  Her feet were vibrating.  And her poor head…

Not smart, Lilah Jane.  You clearly didn’t think this through.

Shouldering her camera, she fanned her face and swallowed the bile that was accompanied by a cold sweat.  The vibrations in her head intensified, bringing with it a ringing in her ears that was out of pitch with the guitar and keyboard parts. 

Her knees joined in the vibration party – or were they actually knocking?  When the tremulous shaking dropped into her ankles, her eyes fluttered. 

Dammit, you have never fainted in your life.  Don’t start now. You are not going to  make a scene, Lilah Jane!  Get a grip!

That pep talk was all well and good, but her body had gone as far as it intended to without proper care and nourishment.  As her legs folded under her like a deflated accordion, she heard plastic and metal clatter. 

Her camera hit the ground, and she landed on top of it to the accompaniment of a shouted, “Goddammit, Lilah!” interspersed with terse directions to his camera operators.  “Abby!  Dawn!  Somebody see if she’s okay!  No, follow Jon if he’s moving.  If not, get David.”

She heard and felt it all as sharply as the camera lens that was digging into her ribs.  Every time he uttered another calm video direction, every time he swore at her, every time he swore at himself for agreeing to this.  Each curse left a mark on her already scarred psyche.

Aren’t you the brilliant one?  You were that close to finding out if your intuition and premonitions were right, and you hit the ground like a damn sack of potatoes.  You can’t do anything right.

Yes.  She could.  And she would.  Willing her limbs to cooperate, she pushed up onto her knees about the time that Dawn got to her.  With the other woman’s help, she made it into a standing position.

“Get her someplace where she can sit and make her drink a goddamn bottle of water!”

“That’s okay,” she murmured to Dawn, willing her rubbery ankles to solidify.  Those were the only things she could focus on clearly.  The humiliation, shame, light-headedness and nausea were all intertwined in an insurmountable, co-mingled knot that defied anything she might be capable of doing to it in her current state.  “I’m embarrassed, but fine.  I just need a little air.”

With gentle encouragement, Dawn helped her find her way away from the depths of the heat-infested equipment out into the evening air.  It must have been twenty degrees cooler with the breeze blowing across her face.

Lilah slumped over the barrier railing, reveling in the chill of the metal against her forehead. 

Just breathe.  Don’t think about the rest of it.

“Here.” 

A cold bottled-water materialized in her hand and she lifted her head to utter a soft word of thanks to whoever had provided it.  Rather than drinking it, she put it against her cheek. 

“What else can I get you?” 

Lila started to shake her head, but thought better of it.  The unnecessary motion might make her vomit.  “Nothing.  Please go back to whatever you need to be doing.  I’ll be fine.  Really.”

“I… don’t know about that.”  This from Abby who was regarding her quite nervously.   “You don’t need to be alone.”

Game face, Lilah Jane.  Don’t screw everybody’s night up.

She dug deep, pushing away the cobwebs that enshrouded her head and pulling out her most convincing smile.  She addressed both of the wardrobe mistresses, holding her water aloft.  “I have water.  I just got a little hot, ladies.  I’m fine.  Honestly.  Please don’t make me responsible for something onstage not going as it should.  Please.”

It took several more minutes, but both women could hear the change of songs and knew they would be called upon by their bosses soon.  That was the only thing that enabled Lilah to convince them to return to their posts. 

The minute they walked away, darting concerned glances back over their shoulders, Lilah stood straight and stiffened both her spine and her knees.

Now it’s time to get your dumb ass out of here and back to the hotel.

That meant winding her way toward the back gate to search for a taxi that may, or may not, be safe transportation back to the hotel.  Safe didn’t matter anymore to a physically and heart sick Lilah.

Death is preferable to the way I feel right now.