53 - Life is a Stage

“About damn time,” Jon bitched from the video director’s desk when Tony finally decided to grace the stadium with his presence, Lilah in tow.  With scarcely a glance at their knotted fingers, he demanded, “Where the hell have you been all friggin’ day?  I know your plane got in this morning.”

“I took a few hours off.”

His brothers had listened to him bitch so much over the years that they were pretty much immune to it.  That immunity was what made them invaluable as employees.  They didn’t waste time getting their feelings hurt by his dictates, knowing that it wasn’t personal.  Business was business and instead of listening to his tone, they just took in the words and fixed whatever needed fixing without a lot of attitude or bullshit.

“That was my fault,” Lilah’s apologetic Southern twang lilted its way into the conversation.  “I arranged to rent a motorcycle and we did a little tour of this part of Germany.  I thought Tony said he didn’t have to work until this evenin’.”

“I didn’t have to work.  Don’t apologize because Mr. Anal Retentive got a wild hair up his ass…”  He released her hand, stepping between Jon and the board to flip a couple of switches and twist a series of knobs.  “…that can be cut, colored and styled in about ten seconds.”

Jon rolled back in the desk chair, using his fist to give Tony a sharp tap in the thigh.  His growled “Asshole” immediately erased the smile dancing its way onto Lilah’s lips.  She went so far as to take a step back when Tony cuffed him in the back of the head in a half-hearted attempt at retaliation. 

Pushing to his feet, Jon propped fists on his hips and shook his head when Tony’s arm slipped around Lilah’s waist.  After a lifetime under their parents’ tutelage of touching, hugging and hand holding, all of the Bongiovi boys were physically affectionate, but this was the first time since Anouk that he could recall seeing Tony so comfortably familiar with a woman.

The ability to acknowledge that shoved Jon across the bridge from being civil to her, to being nice – willingly. “He’s right, Lilah.  Don’t apologize.   TBJ’s a big boy and he does as he damn well pleases.” 

The surprise that widened her un-enhanced eyes was fleeting, and gave Jon a twinge of remorse.  Had he been such a dick that his semi-kind remark warranted astonishment?

You know you have.

“Alright,” she agreed, leaning her weight into his brother and peering up at him with a smile.  “I wash my hands of all accountability.  You’re on your own, honey.”

Jon was curious.  “You one of those types?  That calls everybody honey?”

Or are you making your mark on Tony?

“Not everybody, but a lotta bodies, yes.   Honey.  Sweetie.  Baby.  I try not to overkill the sappiness, but it just happens sometimes.”

He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets.  Some people were just like that, and he’d met his fair share touring through the years.

“Tone, before you go, I’d like to see the new sequence you’ve got for Bad Medicine.”

Looking down on the woman at his side, Tony asked her, “You mind sticking around a few minutes, Bluegrass?”

“Nope.  Not a bit.  Think I’ll go for a little walk around the stadium, though, rather than hangin’ over your shoulder like a vulture.”

“Alright.”  He bent for a brief swipe of his lips over hers.  “Keep within screaming distance though, would ya?”

“If it makes you feel better, I s’pose I could.”

The two were ridiculous together, Jon thought.  Like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.  And the way she was grinning at Tony as though the rest of the world had melted away?  Jon had been on the receiving end of that kind of overt affection before.  Dorothea looked at him that way on the days she was really happy with him and wanted to show him just how happy. 

It made Jon feel like he was intruding on an intimate moment. 

About the time he started to fidget and turn away, Lilah asked Tony, “Is it okay if I go up on stage if I promise to keep my hands to myself?”  Her eyes flicked to Jon, including him in the question.

He gave a slight nod, reinforcing Tony’s affirmative response.  If she was going to sabotage anything, she would’ve done it already.  He was finally starting to accept that maybe what you saw was what you got with Lilah Bennett. 

Maybe.

He would do a once-over after she’d gone, to be safe.  The neuroticism that Jon had been cultivating so diligently wasn’t going to just waft away on the breeze, for God’s sake.  Eventually perhaps, but for now he was trying.  He deserved points for that, right?

“Thank you.  I’ll be somewhere close by.”

After she’d disappeared up the slight staircase and onto the stage, Tony dragged his eyes from her as to Jon’s face and gestured with his thumb.  “Okay, move.  Lemme have my chair.”

He side-stepped to allow his brother access the video “throne” and paid close attention as he efficiently called up the requested sequence on the laptop screen.  As with many things he did, Jon’s single request led to another and another until they ended up talking about some new crap Tony wanted to milk him for.  After the tour, he would consider it, but for now they were sticking with what they had.  It was too near the end. 

Tony flicked a couple of switches and the video monitors flared to life.  The empty stage came into focus and he flicked another switch to set the camera in motion.  “Dammit, Jon, I’m telling you this wiggle…” The frame jumped a bit as the camera rolled.  “…wasn’t there at the start of this leg.  It’s bugging the hell out of me, and I’m tired of fixing it two or three times in every city.”

A flash of denim and a ponytail caught his eye.  “Whoa, whoa.  Back the camera up.”

Grunting impatiently at Jon’s ADD, Tony did as he asked and manipulated the switch that sent the camera back the way it came.   In seconds, Lilah was in the frame, her head thrown back with laughter as she stood next to one of the crew members.

“Looks like Mark’s keeping her good company while she waits.”

Whether Jon’s words were intended to be provoking or not, Tony’s spine bristled as Lilah’s open hand came to rest on the forearm of the video crew member who was supposed to be putting protective plastic over the cameras to protect them from the weather.  The sick feeling in Tony’s stomach was one he hadn’t felt in a long time.  It was the one he’d had when finding his wife screwing around on him, and it was quickly followed by another ‘nostalgic’ feeling – the beginnings of a migraine.

Was she flirting with Mark?  The guy was sure grinning wide enough, he thought, rubbing at the stabbing pain over his right eye.

What the hell is your problem, Bongiovi?  You told her you had nothing to offer her.

After the tour.  He’d told her he had nothing to offer her after the tour.  Hadn’t it been perfectly clear that for the next twenty days, she was his?  His alone.

Anouk fucked with your head.  You buried that inferiority bone a long time back.  Let it go.  Lilah isn’t trolling for a fresh catch. 

“I’m glad she found somebody to talk to while I was busy.”

The words were sharper than he intended them to be, and his brother’s blonde eyebrow slipped skeptically up his forehead.  He peered pointedly at the fingertips Tony was driving into his skull in an effort to stem the debilitating headache that was blooming. 

 “Not real convincing, bro.”

“I’m not the jealous type.  You know that.”  I didn’t used to be, anyway.  Before I walked in on my wife fucking another man in my bed. This is why I can’t do a relationship.  “Stop trying to stir shit, Jon.”

“Not doin’ any such thing.  I was just makin’ a casual observation.”

Pushing back from the video desk, Tony cut off power to the various components of the board, monitors and laptop.  Then he tried to brush by his big brother, but Jon’s hand wrapped around his bicep and halted him before the tread of his boot connected with the first step up to the stage. 

“Tone.”  Eyes bluer than his own were solemn.  “I’m sure it’s perfectly innocent.  She’s just passing time waiting for you.”

He extracted his arm, trying to appreciate the effort Jon was making rather than being pissed at the implication that things weren’t perfectly innocent.  If anyone was going to jump to conclusions, it was going to be him – all on his own – without anybody else’s help. 

“I never thought otherwise,” he staunchly declared and bounded up the stairs. The stage platform vibrated under the force of his heavy footfall and he could feel the resulting vibration shimmy up the back of his leg. 

He wasn’t the only one to feel the vibration.  Lilah’s head whipped around, her hand falling away from Mark’s arm as her feet followed her head and the rest of her body spun toward him when he said, “Bluegrass.”

Intently studying her face for an indication of any ‘wrong-doing’, Tony found no trace of guilt in the bottomless Caribbean eyes.  The excited light in her eyes actually illuminated the Caribbean from within.  She wasn’t a woman caught red-handed, she was a woman who was thrilled to see him – even after only a short time apart.

“All done?” was her chipper inquiry before getting a good look at his face.  Unhappy with whatever she saw, her features immediately crumpled into a mask of concern and she strode to his side.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  Using her wrist, he hauled her into him and bent his head, claiming her mouth with zero tenderness and all male arrogance.  If she didn’t get the meaning behind the cockily possessive claim, Mark sure as hell would.  And if he didn’t, Tony would lay it out for him in painstaking detail later.

“Mmnh!”  She broke away from the punishing lip-lock with a sharp shove on his shoulder, confused by his behavior.  Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, back to the top of the staircase, where Jon was standing with arms folded over his chest.  “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing a couple years’ therapy won’t cure.  Jesus.

“No bullshit between us, Jersey.  Speak your mind already.”

The quiet command was enough to make his feeling-like-a-horse’s-ass quotient skyrocket.  It hadn’t been an hour since he’d given her this lecture.  This was what made her different.  He didn’t have to play games, because this wasn’t going anywhere.  There was no reason to hold back and let anything fester inside him.

So he didn’t.

“I won’t be fucked around on.  I promised you the rest of the tour, but I neglected to mention that I’m not sharing you during that time.  You’re mine, and only mine, until August first.  Get it?”

It was the first time he’d seen her face go red with anything other than embarrassment.  Anger had her nostrils flaring and her eyes sparked  as she cocked one hip and crammed balled-up hands into her back pockets. 

“Later, I’ll prob’ly think that whole possessive thing is a turn-on, but right now I’m pissed that you’re talkin’ like I’m some kinda whore.  No…”  Her ponytail swung with the shake of her head, and he couldn’t help but notice that her exposed cleavage jiggled along.  “I take that back.  Sadly enough, I don’t have enough sense to be pissed like I should.  Instead, my damn sissy-girl feelin’s are hurt because you don’t trust me.”

She shook her head again and made for the stairs on Richie’s side of the stage.  “I’ll find my own way back to the hotel.”

Smooth move, you fucking genius.

“Bluegrass…”

But her feet never slowed and her tennis shoes clattered down the metal stairs while he stood watching, rooted to the spot like some kind of tattooed biker tree.

“Uh…  Tony?”  Mark spoke a little hesitantly.  He’d never seen anything but his boss, the demanding-but-notoriously-easy-going TBJ.  The rude introduction to the boss’s private life was probably a little awkward for him, but Tony couldn’t say that he cared at the moment.

“What?” he almost barked at the other man.

To his credit, Mark didn’t flinch.  He squared his shoulders and stared a belligerent Tony dead in the eye.   “Lilah was telling me about the castle you guys went to today and asking if I knew of any other cool places in our tour stops.  She wanted to take you riding again.”  The video tech nimbly jumped off the side of the stage without waiting for a response.

Of course she did, Tony thought, rubbing at the spot on his forehead where someone had pierced his skull with an icicle.  Because it wasn’t bad enough that she’d been cheated on, maimed, and attacked.  He had to be an asshole and see what other kind of damage he could inflict on her.

While he was in the midst of his mental bitching session, an amused voice forced its way in.  “Still think fuck ‘n’ run is such a bad idea?”

“Jesus Christ, Jon.  Shut up, will ya?”