43 - The Party's Over

Tony was busy directing some of his people, trying to expedite the post show tear down when Scotty, a member of the security team, found him under the stage.

"Tony?"

He lifted his head from the laptop he was stowing and smiled.   Just as he’d requested, Scotty had Lilah at his side, acting as her post-concert escort back stage.

"Thanks," he dismissed the man cordially before greeting Lilah. "Hey, Bluegrass. How'd you like the show?"

He had gone back to the hotel after sound check for a few minutes, but Lilah hadn’t been in their room. Tony hadn't worried too much about it, since she’d promised to be in the diamond circle before eight o'clock.  Just prior to the intro video, he spotted her on Richie's side and settled in to do his job.

After firing off a text that said he was sending somebody to get her afterward, that is.

"Hey," she returned, coming to stand before him, her eyes twinkling merrily.  Tony recognized post-concert buzz when he saw it. "The European set lists are always phenomenal.  Dry County isn't one of my favorites, but Richie killed it."

"What?" he scolded with a furrowed brow, zipping the laptop case. "That's sacrilege coming from a supposed Richie girl."

Her dainty nose wrinkled and she winced lightly. "I know, I know.  Don't tell him, okay?"

"Come to the after party with me and my lips are sealed." He leaned around her and called out, "Rew! All my shit's ready!"

"After party?"  Lilah's frown was fleeting. "You don't usually do those. Or at least you didn't durin’ the first half of this leg, when I was tryin’ to corner you."

"That's because you were trying to corner me," he admitted with a teasing wink as he linked their fingers together and guided her through the maze of storage crates and scaffolding. "I usually keep them few and far between as much as possible, but there are some people who wanna meet you."

She skidded to a halt, arm stretching out straight in front of her as he kept walking.

"Huh?"

"You heard me." Grinning, he tugged, trying to propel her back into motion, but her sparkly sandals were stuck firm to the ground.

"WHO wants to meet me?"

His grin was reinforced with a chuckle at her suspiciously slitted eyes.  "The rest of the band. Well, Tico. And Dave."

With a deep, huffing sigh, she only dragged her feet a little bit when she reclaimed her place at this side.  As they skirted around the edges of the lingering concert goers, she wryly observed, "Lord have mercy, that can't be good."

"Why's that?"

One slim shoulder lifted, ruffling the hair she had left loose this evening.  "People don't want to meet me, Jersey, unless they want to confront me about something. At least in my most recent experiences."

"Oh yeah?" he quizzed as they slid into the side entrance of the hotel.  This had definitely been one of the most convenient venue locations they’d done.  No transportation required, and only a five minute walk back to the room.  "Did Dottie confront you? I haven't had a chance to ask how lunch went."

She fashioned her mouth into a sheepish smirk. "Lunch was fine.  I like her, and no, she didn't confront me."

"Neither will Dave and Tico. Dave may annoy the shit out of you but that’s about it."

Pausing at the entrance to the lobby, Lilah turned to him.  “Where is this party?  Are you going upstairs to change or anything?”

“Nah, I’m not staying long.  I’ve got better things to do.”  He winked, squeezing her hand as he guided her toward the bar they’d been in last night.  “This place is supposed to have a back room or something.”

It did, indeed, have a back room that was already well-populated with men and women whose paycheck was signed by Jon Bon Jovi.  Nothing like the couple of after parties Lilah had been to, that were fan-based.

“Holy cow.”

“What’s the matter?” he asked, looking down at her as she settled her denimed derriere on a bar stool.  Tony climbed on the adjacent stool, sitting with his knees wide so that she was more or less sitting between them.   His single finger in the air was acknowledged by the bartender with a nod.

“There’s a lot of Jovi employees here.  I’m feelin’ a little out of my comfort zone.”

“They’re just people.”

Both gave in their orders when the bartender materialized in front of them – Jack and Coke for him, and a Mai Tai for her.

“Maybe I should rephrase.  There’s a lot of people here.  I’m not very good in a social crowd.”

“Relax.  They don’t bite.”

“I see you’ve forgotten our whole retarded hyena conversation from Dublin,” she sighed, chewing on the corner of her mouth while warily scouring the room.  Her knee bounced lightly up and down and she lifted a hand to worry the gold hoop in her earlobe.

Slightly thrown off-kilter, Tony merely watched her for a moment.  The woman seated beside him was familiar, but a memory.  He’d gotten so used to ‘his’ Lilah that Tony had almost completely erased how she’d been initially.  The insecure, slightly awkward and nervous woman from that very first night in Dublin was alive and well, anxiously awaiting her drink.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it – an obnoxious voice interrupted before Tony got the opportunity to lean forward and kiss her senseless to pull her out of it.

“Is this her?” David practically bellowed, a long-necked bottle in his hand.  “This is the woman who’s got ants in His Royal Highness’s pants?”

“Ignore him,” Tico growled, joining the little group.  Juggling his bottled water from one hand to the other, he extended the free one with a polite smile.  “Hi, I’m Tico.  It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Lilah became immediately enamored with the man who was largely hidden by his massive drum kit every night.  His grip was firm and sure, and his eyes went soft at seeing the scars on the back of her hand. 

Seeking to spare him the embarrassment, she smiled and reciprocated his greeting.  “I’m Lilah, and the pleasure is all mine.  I run an anger management class for cats,” she joked nodding at the marred flesh.  “Some days it doesn’t go so well.”

The deep, bass chuckle rattled in her ears, and Tico dipped his chin, amused and acknowledging her attempt at levity.  David, however…

“What the hell?  You’re kidding, right?  They don’t really do that shit in whatever backwoods town you’re from.  Do they?”

“And this dumbass is David,” Tony introduced, clapping the scowling blonde man on the shoulder with a laugh.  “That’s the polite Southern way of saying her scars are none of your damn business.”

“Oh.”  Lilah watched the disappointment streak across his face.  Luckily, most of the unsightly marks were covered with her hair and shirt tonight, or he would be even more disappointed.  Gamely, he stuck out his hand and, when she took it, he lowered his head to touch his lips to her knuckles.

Surprised, Lilah came close to snatching her hand away as the blood rushed into her cheeks, but at the last minute, she forced herself to hold still until he released her.  Tony, however, didn’t bother restraining himself.  He tapped David once in the back of the head with his open palm, setting the blonde curls to bouncing.

“She’s with me.”

“What?”  David exclaimed indignantly, sneaking a hand out to flick Tony’s ear.  “I didn’t use tongue.”

I could never be enamored with David.  He might be endearin’ though. 

“Excuse the children,” Tico’s gravelly apology was echoed in his face.  “They haven’t had a play date for a while, so they’re rowdy.  Where are you from Ms. Lilah?”

“You mean what back woods town am I from?” she asked wryly, glancing at an unremorseful David and sipping her Mai Tai.  Tony was already halfway into his drink and she thought he’d just ordered another.  “That would be Lexington, Kentucky.”

“Horse farm heiress?”

She was almost insulted by David’s second wisecrack, but his eyes were quite somber.  The question wasn’t another jibe at her Southern-ness, but a legitimate question, it appeared.

“No, Mr. Bryan, I don’t have such lofty roots.  At the risk of being thrown out of my home state, I’m not even much of a horse fan.  I’ve recently discovered that I prefer the back of a motorcycle to that of a thoroughbred.”

The enigmatic smile that curled around the rim of Tony’s glass filled her with warm fuzzies.  As much as it had terrified her in the beginning, that day in Dublin would forever be etched into her memory, and she could only hope that she might get the opportunity to repeat the experience someday.

With him, you mean.  Repeat the experience with Tony.

That was exactly what she meant. 

Lilah spent another few minutes answering curious questions from the pair before conversation slipped into more neutral topics such as the show, Bucharest, and even Europe in general.  She found both men to be quite nice, in totally different ways.  David rarely uttered a word that wasn’t included in some kind of smart-aleck observation or response, while Tico was quiet and thoughtful with his conversation. 

Overall, it wasn’t nearly as traumatic as she had feared. 

Just before the mismatched pair of friends excused themselves, Tico said quietly to Tony.  “Fate has been kind to you, my friend.”

He didn’t confirm or deny that, Lilah noted as she listened curiously, thinking that was an odd thing for the older man to say.  Tony’s mouth tightened a bit inside the frame of his goatee and he offered the barest of nods to the drummer.   

“What did that mean?” she asked when David and Tico had slipped into the crowd.  “Why was he talking about Fate?”

“I mentioned to him and Richie that you thought Fate brought you here.”

“Oh.”

Her stomach fluttered a bit, and Lilah was unsure how to feel about that as she intently stirred the dregs of her Mai Tai with the stem of its umbrella.  Had he been making fun of her to the men?

“Hey.”  A light squeeze on her knee commanded her attention, and she turned her head to find clear blue eyes regarding her.  “That’s all I said.  Nothing else.”

She stared deep into those eyes, trying to see if there was something there for her to be afraid of.  Some sign that he thought she was one big redneck joke.  Had she just convinced herself, out of self-defense, that he thought that her come-to-Jesus moment was perfectly normal?  Was he really counting the minutes and the drinks until he could escape?

Speaking of drinks, the bartender brought Tony’s third while she was lost in the pools of blue behind the lenses of his spectacles.  Without looking away, Lilah hooked her fingers around the glass before he could.  Tipping her head the tiniest bit to one side, she asked, “Do you need to get drunk to stand the thought of goin’ upstairs with me, Jersey?”

He turned his at a matching angle and lifted a scolding eyebrow.  “My thought has been of standing you in that corner over there and nailing you to the wall.” 

When she flushed pink at the bawdy admission and averted her gaze, he pulled her chin back around with one gentle finger, softly divulging, “I like sex with you.  Quite a bit, actually.  I’ve thought about that orange belly dancing thing all day, itching to fuck you.” 

Lilah wanted that.  Not the belly dancing outfit, but the other.  It had been far too many hours since she’d gotten to touch him.  To lose herself in the inherent masculinity that defined Tony Bongiovi.  The other men she’d been with?  They were nothing but boys by comparison.

He swiped the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip, enjoying the way her eyes dilated when he scraped the tender fullness.  “And I think you’re the one who needs to get drunk.  Lilah without insecurities is a serious turn-on.”

“Okay.”  With the quiet and docile agreement, she lifted his Jack and Coke to her lips for an unladylike gulp.  He laughed out loud when the glass hit the counter with a ‘thud’ and her nose scrunched up with utter disgust.   Shuddering, she gasped, “It takes better on you.”

“I changed my mind.  That’s a serious turn-on.”  He pushed away from the bar, holding out his hand for hers.  “My itch just got worse.  Let’s go, Bluegrass.”

I deeply regret having to inform you that this story is taking a BRIEF hiatus.  Brief, as in one week.  My life is crazy right now and I'm writing just to make deadline rather than crafting a story worthy of your loyalty.  That's not fair to you, me, Tony OR Lilah.  I'm not taking a break from writing, I need just a bit of time to get caught back up and we'll be back to twice a week again, I promise!!  

I'm sorry.  I hate (hate, hate, HATE!) doing this, but I can only hope you understand and realize you're going to reap the benefits. 

♥blush  :(

Next posting:  Sunday, February 3.