36 - Busybodies-R-Us

Palming the key to her new room, Lilah slid it into the back pocket of her jeans.  She turned on her heel, thoughtfully wandering toward the restaurant that the concierge had recommended.

“Mr. Bongiovi requested that we keep an extra room available in case you would need it.”

Unfortunately, they weren’t able to tell her which Mr. Bongiovi.  As much as she despised being despised, she hoped it was Jon.  At least that was something she was getting a little bit used to. 

The waitress had brought her a glass of water and taken her order when Lilah’s phone began vibrating in her pocket.   Coming out of her clouded thoughts, she withdrew it with a curious frown, wondering who was calling.  Even more curious was the name that popped up on the screen.

“Hello?” she answered hesitantly, unable to believe that Morgan was calling her in Romania.  What time was it in Oregon anyway?  Noon?  Okay, it wasn’t like it was the middle of the night, but she’d only spoken to her on  the phone once.  Ever.  Why was she calling?

“What the hell?  You send an email bomb like that, and then don’t bother to check for replies?  You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

Lilah sank bank into the red leather banquette, the real world sliding away in favor of the snarky banter that made up their entire relationship.  Fate had just smacked her upside the head, providing just what she needed to survive the evening.

Thank you, Jesus, Buddha, Allah and whoever these Romanians worship.

“What?” she teased, reaching for the fruity umbrella drink that had materialized beside her glass of water.  “I can’t believe you’re callin’ me.  You didn’t rush right over to give me hell in person?  Or, better yet, have me committed?”

“Committed was my first choice, if I could figure out how to use the damn Google translator to find an asylum in Bucharest!  And do you know how much last minute flights around the world cost?  I’m too cheap for that.”

Lilah laughed with delight.  Morgan was the one person in the world that she could talk to like a dog, get it right back and both of them be happy as clams, knowing that neither one of them was serious.

“I see where I rate on your list of priorities.”

“Yeah, yeah.  So tell me what in the world is really going on over there?  You’re sleeping with TBJ?  You went on an overseas stalking mission and you didn’t think to invite me?  Talk about rating on somebody’s list of priorities!  Bitch!”

“Uh, hello…  You don’t like Tony.  Why would you want to come stalkin’ him?”

“Because YOU like him!  And it’s not like Big Brother isn’t there, too.  I could get in a little side-stalking.”

The reminder of Big Brother dimmed Lilah’s smile considerably, and she took another long swallow of her drink, savoring the rum cloaked in fruit juice. 

She hadn’t told Morgan or Angel about her encounters with Jon.  Really, the only things she had told them were about Amos and Walter, and her HullabaLOU experience.  They didn’t know she was here to ‘save’ Tony, or about her intuitive incidents.  They’d only been told that she came in search of the man who had saved her life.

“I’m not exactly in Big Brother’s good graces,” she confessed on a sigh.  Whereas Lilah had a tendency to internalize everything and make it into something more than it should be, Morgan had the natural ability to cut the bullshit and reduce something to its simplest terms.  She was direct and to the point, and would have no trouble telling Lilah if her perspective was skewed.

"Shit! If big brother is being the royal dick I'm certain he is, and he's being that royal dick to you, that's going to pose a problem.  I don't want to have to dislike His Royal Hotness.  What's going on??"

The smile that had faded, readily replaced itself.  Morgan had a major thing for Jon, but she had no trouble seeing his flaws for what they were.  It continued to fascinate Lilah how she could swing back and forth from lusting after him to calling him a dick in practically the same breath.

“He hates me and wants to me to stay away from Tony.  To the point that he had me investigated, or something, and threatened to 'reveal' what he found out.”

"There's nothing he could have found out about you that would make him hate you.  YOU aren't the one with dirty little secrets...pun intended.  So what does he think he's found out?"

“He insinuated that I was somehow responsible for Amos’s death so that I can use the insurance money to heal my financial woes.  I told Tony everything, so whatever Jon does or doesn't know is irrelevant.  The only thing I don’t understand is why the hell he hates me so much.  What does he think I’m gonna do?  Set fire to his stage??”

"He's a control freak,” Morgan proclaimed calmly.  “A hot control freak that I'd gladly get up against a wall with, but I digress…  He's been a jerk to you so I’ll try to overlook his sexiness.”  Expelling one noisy breath she regrouped and brought her rant back on track.  “He doesn't know you, so it's logical for him to be suspicious.  He probably thinks you're using his brother to get to him.  So ignore him!  It's none of his business.  Focus on the one who does matter, and don't let his brother become the third party in your relationship.  Tony is the one you need to worry about.  What's his take on things?"

Lord, her verbal replies are a whole lot wordier than her written ones.  Most days I'm lucky to get a five word reply to an email.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?  You’ve done the horizontal mambo with the man, right?  That should give you some kind of clue.”

Lilah twirled the tip of the little yellow paper umbrella between her thumb and forefinger, poking at the orange slice on the rim of her glass.  She sucked at keeping secrets when it came to actual person-to-person contact.  She had a tendency to spill her guts at the least little prodding.  Emails made it so much easy to steer a conversation away from the million things you’d rather leave unsaid.  Now she was pinned in a corner, and nothing was going to make sense without the full truth.

“There’s a little more to the story than what I've told you, and Tony’s havin' a little trouble wrappin' his head around it, and went out for the evenin’ with the band.  I’m hangin’ in limbo at the moment.”

“Define hanging in limbo.  Did you two fight before he left?”

“No, we didn’t fight…”  With a sigh, she broke down and gave Morgan the Reader’s Digest version of her ‘premonitions’ and her desire to ‘save’ Tony.  When she’d spilled all her gory secrets, Lilah asked her friend dryly, “You figure out the Google Translate thing yet?”

Morgan wasn’t remotely amused.  She’d reached the end of her patience and understanding.  “Lord, God, Jesus... Why did you let him leave?  It seems to me if you're shacked up with a guy you should be able to talk with him instead of all this silly drama!  Shuck the corn and find out where his head is and make a decision with him about where things are going. If they aren't going anywhere, treat each other with respect and go your separate ways.”

That was a tremendous help.

“I know that, Morgan, but I thought I might give him five minutes to digest it all before I demanded a decision as to the future of our ‘relationship’.”

Morgan huffed impatiently.  “I just don’t see why it has to be so complicated so early.”

 “Because my life is complicated!  And let’s not forget that I’ve pretty much claimed to be psychic.  Talk about complicating things...”

“Well why don't you use your psychic abilities to see how you're gonna get your sweet ass out of limbo?”

The only thing psychic about Lilah right now was the vision of a bunch of cute little drink umbrellas.  By the time she was done with this evening, she would have enough of those suckers to fill a suitcase.  

✧✧✧

The restaurant was nice, which was no surprise.  Whomever the Romanian bigwigs were, they had spared no expense in catering to the American rock stars.  And, as Jon had told Tony, they were some gorgeous dinner companions on hand.  Richie was in his element, schmoozing and charming the ladies, while the others dusted off their own lady killing skills.  Not that they would use them seriously, but they might as well play the game since the playing pieces were so well-crafted. 

Big Brother was a little more subdued, but clearly enjoyed his share of the female attention.  When he hit his limit, Jon excused himself to come and sit with Tony, who was pickling his confusion in glass after glass of whiskey and watching on with amusement.  He’d refused the company of one of the girls, not in the mood to think about getting tangled up with another one.  The one he was tangled up with now was more than enough.

“That girl I was talking to?” Jon murmured in a confidential tone, nudging Tony with his elbow.  “She’s a performer in the Bucharest Circus.  A contortionist.  Told me she has full control over all of her very limber muscles.  She’d make you forget you ever met that woman from Kentucky.”

“Back off, Jon.”

“What?”  He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs and arms, a half-cocked smile on his face as he watched two girls perch themselves on Richie’s lap.  “How many times do you get to bang a contortionist in your life?  You can’t pass this up.”

“Yeah.  I can.”  Tony shook his glass, the familiar sound of ice tinkling against the sides somehow soothing his annoyance.  He’d like to crawl inside the bottle to keep from having the rest of this conversation.  His mind was addled enough without Jon’s interference.

The sigh and accompanying frown from his brother were familiar trademarks when things weren’t going Jon’s way.  “Look, I didn’t wanna tell you this, but since she obviously didn’t…  There was speculation that she killed her husband.”

Un-freaking-believable.   

Tony’s alcohol-induced calm evaporated at the arrogantly condescending tone of the man he’d looked up to and respected for most of his life.  He could feel his blood pressure start a steady climb, courtesy of the slow boil that Jon just incited.  Somehow, Tony forced himself to keep quiet long enough to drain the rest of his drink before declaring firmly, “She didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she told me who killed her husband, dumbass.  How do you know?” 

“I had Alex Balducci look into her background.”

Alex’s name was a familiar one that brought a bad taste to his mouth.  Jon had hired him to confirm what Anouk had been into as soon as Tony suspected she was being unfaithful.  He would never be able to think of the private investigator without bitterness.

Of course he did.  Why the hell wouldn’t he?  He’s not busy enough with the tour that he has to stick his nose in my shit?

That was it.  Tony had all over the over-bearing brother routine he could stomach.  It was coming to an end, and it was coming to an end now.  “Tell me.  Just fuckin’ flat-out tell me what your problem is with her.  No lies, no politically correct bullshit.  Just the hard, cold truth, before I punch you in the damn face.”

“Don’t you wanna know what else I found out?”

I know more about her than I can deal with as it is.

“Í want you to answer my fucking question.”

“Keep your voice down.”  Jon accepted a glass of wine from the waitress with an absent smile and nod of thanks.  He surveyed the room full of bureaucrats and band members suffering the over-eager attention of the Romanian beauties as he spoke quietly.  “You have no idea how many women have tried to use you to get to me, do you?  And do you know why you have no idea?  Because I run interference and get rid of them before they can cause damage to either of us.”

Tony had been struck speechless with flabbergasted fury.  He could do nothing but gape stupidly as his brother continued to casually glance around the room – his kingdom – with a cordial smile pinned effortlessly in place. It was amazing that his living, breathing fucking ego could fit in the place and still leave enough oxygen for the other Romanian revelers.

“I can’t even respond to that,” Tony finally strung together, pushing to his feet.  “Stay the hell away from Lilah.  And while you’re at it... stay the hell away from me.”

Jon’s fingers seized Tony’s forearm when he tried to pass by, and his older brother looked up at him with pity.  Like he was too stupid to know what was good for him. 

“Tone, I’m only trying to look out for you.”

Tony had the first inkling of what Lilah might have felt when he swooped in and claimed that she needed a keeper.  It was beyond infuriating to have somebody think you couldn’t take care of yourself. 

“I’m forty-four fucking years old," he bit out, eyes hard and cold.  "If I can’t handle my own shit by now, I deserve whatever happens to me.  Go look out for your kids, why don’t ya?  They're the ones who need a father.”

The posting schedule will remain Sunday and Wednesday until further notice.  I just don't have the time for any more right now.  I'm sorry.   ~blush