42 - Give and Take

Lilah couldn’t help the wistful smile when she heard her best friend’s lilting “Hello?”  There were a lot of exciting things going on in her life, and she missed sharing them with the woman who had been there every step of the way for the last ten years. 

“Hi, Jo.” 

“Nice to know you remember my number.”

Sighing, Lilah fell back onto the bed with a bounce and let her eyelids drift shut, pulling out her mental encyclopedia of social graces so that she wouldn’t buy into the argumentative tone.  That encyclopedia didn’t get used often – social graces weren’t exactly Lilah’s strong suit – but sometimes you had to do the right thing and play nice, whether you wanted to or not. 

Her feelin’s are still hurt.  Go the extra mile and suck it up. 

“Of course I remember it.  How are you, sweetie?”

“I’m okay, how are you?”

Her extra effort had paid off.  Jo had been pacified into, if not being genuinely nice, at least doing the polite game tonight.  That fake feeling of insincerity made Lilah uncomfortable, but it was preferable to cattiness and arguing.  She would take the polite game over that any day.

“I’m good.  Really good.”

“Well…  good.  I’m glad to hear that.”  The silence stretched out, second by second, as Lilah waited for Joanna to make the next polite step and ask about her trip.  She didn’t follow the script, though. “I miss you.”

That softly spoken admission wasn’t polite banter.  It was the first heartfelt sentiment she’d garnered from her friend since announcing this trip – at least the first non-angry one, and a weight lifted from Lilah’s heart.  Maybe they were moving on?

“Aww, Jo…  I miss you, too.  It’s just another coupla weeks and I’ll be home.”

“Yes, but will things still be the same?  Will you still be there for me when I need you?”

This sigh managed to get smothered.  Lilah didn’t have an answer for that.  At this point, she had no reason to believe anything was going to change, but there was a slight possibility that things might be end up being different.  Very different.

“I don’t know about things being the same, but I’m always gonna be no more than a phone call away.”

The silence stretched again, and she knew that wasn’t what her friend had been hoping to hear.  Was the call going to escalate into an argument?  Or slide into a depressive conversation?  It was neither. 

“So you’re in Bucharest now.  What’s it like?”

Back to polite trip chat – with no mention of Tony.  She must not want to hear about him  That’s okay, I guess. 

But Lilah’s feelings were a little hurt.  She wanted to share her lunch with Dorothea, how icky Jon was being, and gush a little over Tony’s sweetness.  She wanted to squeal and giggle and laugh with her friend, to have her share in the excitement, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. 

So she resigned herself back to the polite game.

“It’s okay. I haven’t seen much besides the hotel.”

They yakked for a bit longer and Lilah reminded Jo of her itinerary for the next couple of days, promising to talk again soon.  Disconnecting the call, she rested the phone on her chest with one hand and closed her eyes again, draping the opposite arm over her forehead.

It was the story of her life.  Lilah always felt like she was doing something wrong, particularly where Joanna was concerned. 

That’s because you’re acting selfish by being here.

Joanna’s husband worked nights, and Lilah would, more often than not, stay over at her house to keep her company and in case she needed anything.  They would watch television, have dinner, maybe go to the mall if Jo was feeling energetic.  Now Jo was stuck home by herself every night while Lilah was away.

But you are here, so be here and enjoy it.  Don’t waste it, Lilah.  Be present in the moment. There’s plenty of time to feel guilty and do penance later.

The vibration against her chest was startling and she squeaked with surprise.  “Jeez…” she breathed, when she finally registered what it was.  Lifting her hand, she saw that the screen was lit with the name ‘Anthony’.

“Hey, Jersey,” Lilah greeted him through her happy grin.  She would let the unpleasantness with Joanna recede to the back of her mind for the time being.

“It’s not Tony, it’s Jon.”

Trading one bout of unpleasantness for another, was her initial thought before stopping to consider why Jon would be calling her from Tony’s phone instead of Tony.  Then a glimmer of fear streaked through her.

“Where is he?  Is he okay?”

Jon mentally gave the Kentucky girl half a point for making her first spoken thought about Tony’s welfare.  Glancing at his glowering brother with tattooed arms crossed bouncer-style,  Jon pulled a slight frown of disgust before responding tightly, “He’s fine.”

As though he knew what had been asked, Tony gave him a smug grin, as though to say, “Take that, dumbass.”

Jesus, is there the slightest chance I’m wrong about this chick?

Receiving the assurance she’d wanted, or would have him believe she wanted, her voice cooled considerably.  “Then to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Bongiovi?”

She should be sucking up to you instead of being so aloof if she wants something.  Shouldn’t she?

“I’m inviting you back stage before the show.”  He muffled his grunt when Dorothea jabbed him in the ribs with her finger as she mouthed instructions.  In compliance with his lovely wife’s orders, Jon less- than-graciously tacked on, “And during the show, if ya want.”

Lilah Bennett didn’t jump at the opportunity like a celebrity-starved groupie, simpering her thanks as he’d half-expected. Did that mean she was better at playing the game than most, or that she really had to think about it?

Annoyed at the silence emanating from the phone and succumbing to his innate impatience, he prompted, “Hello?”

“Yes, sir, I’m still here,” came the quiet Southern twang that sounded nearly as foreign to his New England ears as Mandarin Chinese.  “I’m gonna assume you’re not doin’ this voluntarily.  Were you coerced into makin’ this call?”

That astuteness pulled him back from where he’d begun to waver on the Lilah Bennett fence.  She was smart.  Smart enough to play a nice guy for what she wanted, without a doubt.  

“What difference does it make?”

Two pairs of brown eyes and one blue all narrowed at the belligerence he hadn’t taken the time to filter out of his answer.

“I will take that as a yes, and politely decline your kind invitation.  You have your out Mr. Bongiovi.  Could you please tell Tony that I’ve got a bit of a headache and that I’ll meet him at the hotel after the show?” 

Shit. 

This wasn’t going to fly.  He didn’t care about Richie or Tony.  Passing along Lilah’s message would be enough to appease them, but Dorothea?  Jon had to sleep with her tonight and she wasn’t going to be so easily swayed.

“Lilah.”  He had to say something.  He hated that he was going to have to reinforce the invitation he hadn’t wanted to extend in the first place, but he was never going to hear the end of it if he didn’t.

Think, Jon, think.

He had it.  Enough to entice her to the venue and, at the same time, prove that he was right all along.  An apology would never have to cross his lips, and they could get this tour back to what passed for normal.

“I understand your son has a band?”

Jon stuck a finger in his open ear to block out Tony’s cursing and orders not to go there.  He also stood and took his wife’s glancing blow against his shoulder like a man and didn’t flinch at the squinted glare she tried to kill him with.

“Yes,” was the hesitant reply.  “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you have any of his work?  Bring it with you, and I’ll give it a listen.  Maybe I can help him out.”

His brother folded his arms, looking disgustedly unconcerned, while Richie inspected his manicure with a sad shake of his head. 

However, Jon’s smugness grew with each passing second that she didn’t reply.  She was going to accept and Tony was going to have to accept, too – that she wasn’t as sweet as she was trying to pretend.

“I know that it’s all about contacts in the music, Mr. Bongiovi, and I’m sure my son will die a thousand deaths if he ever finds out I’m doin’ this, but I’ll have to politely decline that kind invitation as well.”

Well, hell.

“Why?”

She laughed softly.  “There are a number of reasons.  Would you like a list?”

The natives in his dressing room were getting restless, wanting to know what she’d said, but Jon shushed them all with a wave of his hand.

“As a matter of fact, I would.”

“Okay.  First, and foremost, I’m not the type of woman to take advantage my friendship with Tony that way.  Secondly, you don’t like me, and I can’t imagine why you would even offer.  Third, my son and his friends are learnin’ their lessons along the way and take great pride in the fact that they’ve established their own contacts so far.  It will mean far more to them in the long run.”

“So you’re going to deny him the best shot he’ll ever have at getting a successful industry professional to hear his stuff?” 

Did this woman even like her kid?  Nobody passed on the kind of opportunity she was being offered.  Fledgling bands prayed for this kinda stuff.

“Pat Monahan has been extremely kind and generous with his time, and they have a tentative meeting scheduled with Dave Matthews later this summer.   A friend of a friend kind of thing.  They’ll make it or break it on doors their music has opened, not their mommies.”

And with that, the first arrow of doubt pierced his overblown certainty, and Jon was forced re-evaluate his stance.  A stance that may have had a firm foothold at the beginning, but when it had started to slide, he’d grabbed at any and everything to maintain his position, regardless of how flimsy a foundation it provided. 

It was time to step back and take a long, hard, objective look at Lilah Bennett.  Maybe she wasn’t as eschewed in evil as he’d wanted to paint her.  Maybe she really was just here to hook up with Tony, because he was Tony.  Even if that was true, there was no way in hell she was as perfect as his family was trying to sell.

It was time to meet this woman and actually talk with her instead of at her, so he could locate some kind of middle ground between the picture he had painted and the one being shoved down his throat.  Then he could find a justified stance that would hold solid.

He was ready to find out the truth.  All of it.

“Fine if you don’t wanna come back stage.  We’re staying in Bucharest another day.  I’d like you and Tony to have lunch with me and my wife tomorrow, if you would.  No confrontations, just lunch.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to ask.  Are you being coerced again?”

She couldn’t be blamed for her suspicion.  After the way he’d cornered her yesterday, she was completely justified.

“No.  Sincere invitation.”

A prolonged hush fell over the line before she somewhat haltingly agreed.  “Alright.  If it’s okay with Tony, it’s fine with me.”

“Good.”  He passed the phone to his brother.  “Here.  Tell her to come to the show.  I’ve got a sound check to do.  Babe, you waiting here?” 

“I’ll listen from out front,” Dorothea responded with an approving smile.  Knowing his wife as well as he did, she would demand more, but later - in private.  She knew him just as well, if not more so and could likely see he’d had enough for now.  He needed to get in the pre-show zone.

Jon cuffed Richie lightly in the back of the head.   “Sambora, get your lazy, busybody ass onstage.  Time’s a-wastin’.”