47 - Shifting Winds

“Admit it.  She’s nice,” Dorothea murmured against the underside of her husband’s jaw between kisses.  She had put her naughty boy up against the wall when they arrived back in their room, tossing aside the sunglasses and black cap that made up his incognito look.

“I don’t wanna talk about her now,” he grumbled, wriggling to invite her hands’ exploration under his shirt. 

Taking the hint, she slipped her hands under the brushed cotton tee, and carefully raked her nails over the tautly stretched skin housing his ribcage.  A sharp hiss reassured her that some things didn’t change, even in twenty-five years. She still knew his hot spots.

“Not long, but for a minute,” she negotiated, creating a nail trail around his torso, down over the small of his back and into the waistband of his jeans.  “She’s nice, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Smiling against his neck, she kissed away his grunt of annoyance.  “Then why don’t you like her?”

“Because she bullied and connived to trick me into helping her stalk my brother.  Can we have sex now?”

Dorothea’s hands froze and she drew back to knit her brow confusedly.  “What?  How did she do that?  You said she cornered you at that Q&A.  You said nothing about bullying, conniving and tricking.  Spill it.”

“Dottie,” he groaned in frustration.  “I just wanna fuck before you go home.  Is that too much to ask?”

“I’ll fuck and suck you as soon as you tell me what happened at that Q&A.”

That was a major concession and he knew it.  She didn’t drop to her knees too often, and the lure of it had his eyes blazing blue heat as he beat out staccato answers.

“She asked if I approved everybody who worked backstage.  When I said I left it up to my people, she pushed.  Asked if the video had sole discretion over his crew.  She wormed her way backstage.”

“So she asked.  As in got up in your face and demanded?”  That just didn’t sound right to Dorothea, unless Lilah was way more two-faced than she’d given her credit for.

“No…”

“She was a bully?  Obnoxious and pushy?”

“No…” 

“Then how was she, Jon?”

“You said you were gonna suck me,” he reminded, pushing a hand into her hair and plastering on the boyish smile that reminded her of their high school days.  It was the most effective tool in his charming arsenal, but she steeled herself against it.

Jon’s memory wasn’t faulty.  He knew damn well that her conditions hadn’t been met, and that she wouldn’t be hitting the floor until they were.   “How was she?  Her demeanor?  Bitchy?”

“No, she wasn’t bitchy,” he confessed on a quiet sigh.  “She bumbled around a lot.  I remember thinking she was gonna hyperventilate or pass out.”

“She was scared to even ask a question and yet you took an instant dislike to her?”

“You know how I am about trusting people.  Especially people who seem to know their way around the system.”

Dorothea took her own sigh and leaned into her husband.  With her chin tucked into his shoulder, she said quietly.  “Yeah, I know, and in most cases you’re perfectly justified in withholding that trust.”

“But not this one?”  His breath warmed the skin at her temple, and soft lips that were a comforting shade of familiar tickled her with a butterfly kiss.  Her fingers twisted in the thick hair that hung a little too long on his collar as she found a way to put this all in context for him.

“Do you remember when we got married?”

God knew Dorothea did.  There had been a stretch of time where she had been Public Enemy Number One for taking Jon off the market.  Sure, some of the fans were congratulatory and supportive, but there were an equal number who were bitchy and vindictive.  The vindictive ones didn’t even bother her so much.  But the people closest to them…

Strong arms encircled Dorothea and held her close.  “You know I do.”

“And how everybody was bitching and screaming that it was the stupidest thing you’d ever done in your life?”

The arms that represented home cinched a little tighter, and she twined her arms around his waist to complete the circle.  “Yeah, so?”

“Every time you turned around, somebody else was giving you hell for ruining your career, but you dug in your heels and defended me time after time until you were blue in the face.”  A soft grunt confirmed her memory.  “Who was the one person who never told you it was a mistake?”

“Jesus, Dottie. You know who.”

She lifted her head to peer deep into his eyes.  “And so do you.  Tony might have been surprised at first, but he was the first one to have your back – to have my back.  Even if you don’t understand what he’s doing, he deserves your loyalty.”  Slipping her fingers into his belt loops, she tugged twice, sharply.  “Don’t you think?”

The quiet chuckle rattled against her chest.  “Is this necessary?  I already told him to do what he wanted.”

“Yeah, but are you just paying lip service?  I want you to believe what you’re saying.”

He dipped to mark her lips with the kiss she’d fallen in love with when she was fifteen years old.  “I do believe.   Does that make you happy, dear?”

This was her husband.  This was the compassionate man she’d married.  The one who cared about people and their plights.  The one who put family above all else.  The one who, when he loved, loved with his whole heart. 

“Very much so.  I love you, Johnny.”

“I love you, too, Baby.  Now…”  He conjured up his bad boy gin.  “Don’t we have some unfinished business?”

Her hands slid around to the button on his jeans, popping it with her own wicked grin as she sank to the plush carpeting.  “It won’t stay unfinished for long.  I give it three minutes.”

✧✧✧

“Dammit Rew, get off my ass,” Tony groused irritably, the bar’s loud music camouflaging the clatter of ice cubes in his Jack and Coke.  The padded rail hit him right in the kidneys as he surveyed the crowded room.  Shifting from one foot to the other, he propped an elbow on the rail and leaned his weight into it.

The freckled man backhanded him in the shoulder, snorting disgustedly.  “C’mon, man!  That stacked blonde is givin’ you the eye and you’re sittin’ there like a big dumb Italian salami.  Step up to the plate and take a swing!”

“Dumbass.  That blonde has her eye on Sambo.  She’s just tryin’ to figure out if I look more like Matt or Jon.”

And that was the God’s honest truth.  He could see it in the way she studied him for a few seconds, and then flicked her eyes across the room where Matt was standing.  Jon’s face, of course, she would have memorized.  In between mystery-solving glances, she would creep closer to Richie, flashing a blinding smile to the Birthday Boy every time she caught him looking.

And I don’t give a rat’s ass.

“You just don’t have the balls to go test the water.”

Tony tipped back his drink to keep from flying off the handle at his buddy.  This wasn’t any different than what they’d done dozens – hundreds – of times before.  Tony drank, Mike drank.  When Mike drank enough, he started taking pot shots.  Razzing Tony was one of his favorite hobbies, and razzing him about women definitively topped the list.

Tonight, however, Tony just wasn’t in the mood for it.  He’d had his mind set on having Lilah, and nothing else would do.  It was kind of like getting your mouth set for steak and being offered chicken.  The chicken might even be better for you, but it just wasn’t the same.

“Fuck off.”

“Whatsa matter?  You too pussy?”

Tony took another slow, deliberate drink before shaking his head sadly.  “You realize we’re old, right?  We aren’t twenty-something studs looking to nail everything with a pulse and the right plumbing.”

“First of all, speak for yourself.”  He shoved his dark horn-rimmed glasses up his nose and shook out a cigarette.  “And even if we are mature, why are we gonna waste the opportunity God gave us?  We’re only here for tonight.  That means no obligations tomorrow.”

“It’s not God, it’s Jon.”

“Whassup, gentlemen?”  Richie squeezed between them and asked the bartender for a Diet Coke.  “Are we having a stupendous time?  If I gotta get old, somebody better be enjoying it.”

Mike tipped his head back and blew out his first drag of smoke, before sniping, “Some of us could be having a much better time if we’d get off our pansy asses and partake of the female company.”

Eyeing Tony with a smirk, the guitarist asked with feigned casualness, “Where’s that friend of yours?  You know, the one who’s ‘just a woman’.”

Great.  Sambora was going to start in on him, too.  He could have these drinks in his room alone with far less hassle.  Drunken business emails were preferable to this crap.

“Dusseldorf.”

Disregarding the side conversation he didn’t really catch the undertones of, Mike nudged Richie and kicked his chin toward the aforementioned blonde.  “See her?  I’m trying to tell TBJ that she’s checkin’ him out and that he should take advantage of her interest and our short time in town.”

“The blonde there in the short black dress?”   When Mike nodded and kept his gaze locked on her, the corners of Richie’s mouth pulled down in a mock frown, and he covertly winked at Tony.  “That’s Sheree, and she’s goin’ home with me tonight.   She’s was trying to decide who TBJ here resembled more – Matt or Jon.”

That was enough for Tony.  He deposited his empty glass on the bar with a ‘thunk’ and turned an evil eye on Mike.  “I told you, dipshit.”

“So?”  His friend was determined.  “There’s lots more women trolling tonight.”

Tony shook his head, ignoring Mike and turning to the man retrieving his Diet Coke from the bar.  He thumped him once on the back, saying, “Rich, happy birthday, man.  I’ve got stuff to do, so I'm calling it a night. Later, Rew.”

As he walked away, he heard Rew’s disgusted sigh.  “That chick’s neutered him.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s been neutered,” Richie chortled.  “In fact, I think he’s got the exact opposite problem, but she’s the only one he wants solving it.”