61 - Party On

“Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?” 

Richie edged up to the bar alongside the girl who’d become a familiar face in the past weeks.  He hadn’t had a lot of in-depth conversation with her, but she was pleasant enough to shoot the breeze with.  Seeing as TBJ didn’t have his hand planted on her ass for a change, Richie figured he would take the opportunity to do just that.

“Already on it, old man,” David interjected, plunking an umbrella-adorned glass onto the bar in front of her. 

Richie puckered his lips and shrugged carelessly, signaling the bartender for a Diet Coke before looking from Dave back to Lilah.  “Okay.  Can I buy you some Mace, darlin’?  To get rid of this pest?”

A brilliant smile lit her face, accompanied by a giggle that practically spilled from her lips.  Being the seasoned alcohol-veteran that he was, he would gauge that “Bluegrass” was somewhere between three and five drinks into her evening, depending on her alcohol tolerance. 

“Aw, he’s alright as long as you don’t take anything he says seriously,” she defended the curly-haired man with a friendly pat on the arm.  “Isn’t that right, Rabbi Bryan?”

Both men chortled at her sweet, seemingly innocent question.  The wink she tossed Richie’s way told him that she could hold her own with the Jewish Jokester.

The girl has more spunk than I gave her credit for. 

“Oops…  As lovely as it’s been Miss Lilah Jane, I see the Lisbion Swim Team has joined the party.”  David’s bushy eyebrows waggled up into his hair.  “They like men.  Who knew?”

“That’s Lisbonian, you dumb fuck,” Richie informed him with a grudgingly amused snort.  With David you never knew if he was being serious or deliberately creating an opportunity to be a comedian.  “Being in Lisbon doesn’t make you a Lisbion – or a lesbian for that matter.”

“Whatever.  They’re hot and they like blond guys.”  He wrapped his goon arms around Lilah in a quick hug.  “In case I don’t catch up with you again, have a safe trip back to the sticks.”

The hug was returned with enthusiasm and she beamed another one of those smiles that had the power to draw attention from her Bedazzled cleavage to her face.  “It’s been a pleasure gettin’ to know you.  Thanks for your kindness.”

“Darlin’, that’s smartass, not kindness.”

“Shut up, Sambora,” the keyboardist sniped with a swiftly placed backhand to the shoulder.  After following it up by flipping Richie the bird, he transformed from prick to prince and turned to bow graciously to the lady.  “The pleasure was mine, Kentucky.  Take care.”

When David slipped away, Richie sipped his Diet Coke thoughtfully, watching the brunette’s sparkling eyes dance around the room,taking in its shadowy occupants.  “So what’s up next for you, Bluegrass?”

“Me?” She swung those sparkling eyes around to look at him, her smile never fading as she absently toyed with the pink paper umbrella from her drink.  “I turn in my pumpkin tour bus for a boring old car and go back to my life.”

“Oh yeah, Cinderella?  You didn’t find a Prince Charming on that tour bus?”

She daintily sipped the remnants of her drink and slid the empty glass toward the bartender, silently requesting another.  A roving strobe light glinted off of her Harley logo as she planted her elbows into the padded leather rail that edged the bar.

“Not interested in any Prince Charming.”

“Every girl wants Prince Charming, darlin’.”  He knew that for a friggin’ fact, because he evidently fit the bill at first glance.  It was only upon closer inspection that women found him to more of a toad than a prince.

“Nope,” she firmly denied, twirling the straw in her freshly delivered Umbrella Special.  “The only things Prince Charming is good for is being charming – or a royal ass.  If I were looking for a guy…”  Her eyes flicked over the sea of people to a spot near the center.  There,  standing out like a beacon in a white shirt, was Matt – flanked by both of his brothers.  “I’d be more interested in the guy who makes Prince Charming look good.  You know.  The guy who polishes the armor, waters the horse and does the actual work.  Those guys are the real princes.”

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind as to who and what she was talking about.  TBJ was the guy paid to make his brother look good on camera and he worked his ass off every show to make it happen in spades. 

“So go after him then.”

Draining the second half of her drink, she returned it to the bar and smiled ruefully.  “Guys like that don’t want to be a part of the fairy tale.  Besides…  Fairy tales aren’t real.  They’re just an escape from reality.”

Richie furrowed his forehead, studying her intently.  “You telling me your fairy tale is over?”

“Nope.  I’m not a fairy tale kinda girl.  I had a great vacation and got to meet some amazin’ folks in the process.  What more could I possibly ask for?”

That was a load of crap.  She would be ecstatic as all hell if TBJ dragged her from that pumpkin tour bus to a pumpkin Harley.  Richie swept his gaze over her from head to toe, easily envisioning her in a Cinderella ball gown right down to the glass-

“What the fuck?”  He leaned forward, trying to get a better glance at her feet.  The damn boots she was wearing had rhinestone heels.  If that wasn’t fuckin’ poetic justice right there!  “Those are some kick-ass shoes, baby.”

The perpetual smile went a little goofy as the rum juice deluged her bloodstream.  Lifting her foot, she twisted her ankle so that the light bounced off of them.  “Tony gave them to me.”

Annnnd…. this whole fairy tale thing is tied up with a nice, neat glass-slipper bow. 

✧✧✧

“She looks awful comfortable huddled up there with Sambora,” Jon observed, smiling into his wine glass as he tipped it up to swallow.  He felt good having this last show behind them and heading into a break, so he was indulging in one of his favorite past-times:  provoking his siblings.

Disappointingly, Tony declined to rise to the bait, merely shaking his head with a laugh.  “And?  What do I care who she’s talking to?”

Jon nudged an elbow into Matt, tossing his chin at their brother.  “Either he really doesn’t mind walking away from this broad tomorrow, or he’s finally figured out she’s his girlfriend and isn’t going any-damn-place.  Which you say it is?”

The youngest Bongiovi looked down on his big brothers with a knowing nod.  “Girlfriend.”

“You think?”  Jon propped a fist on one cocked hip, with a thoughtful tilt to his head.  “Dottie says yes, but…  I dunno….”

“Both of ya shut the hell up,” the darkest of the three ordered, menacingly pointing the neck of his beer bottle at them while pushing his camera strap higher on his shoulder.  “I know whose hotel room she’ll be in tonight.  Without a doubt.  The rest of that shit is you two being busybodies because your wives are damn-well nosy.”

Jon and Matt exchanged a ‘hell no’ look.  “We aren’t pussy-whipped boys doing our wives’ bidding.”

“Oh, so they’ve made you as nosy as they are.  Yeah.  That’s better.”

“Hey,” Matt bristled, shoving at Tony’s shoulder with a loose fist.  “You wanna be pussy-whipped so bad you can’t stand it.  You always have.”

From where Jon stood, that was a pretty fair assessment.   He’d seen his brother’s thinly veiled looks of envy when Dottie was laying down the law and telling Jon just how it was going to be.  Same with Desiree riding ‘roughshod’ over Matt.  The men had been raised by a strong woman, so it was no wonder they were drawn to the same in their mate.

 Now that wasn’t to say that they were truly pussy-whipped, because for every ounce of strength their mother possessed, their dad had two.  He simply knew when to use it and when to let his wife have her way.  

“Pick your battles,” John, Senior had always counseled his sons.  “If it don’t make a shit in the end, don’t waste time trying to win.  Marriage isn’t about breaking her spirit or bending her will to yours.  It’s about appreciating your individual strengths and finding a way for them to complement one another so that you’re stronger together than apart.”

Jon felt like it was a lesson that he, personally, had learned well.  His intimate familiarity with the paternal lesson was also the reason he knew Tony would walk away from Lilah Bennett.  She wasn’t strong.  Not the way a Bongiovi woman should be. 

“You’re a moron,” Tony told their ‘little’ brother, his eyes never straying far from the bar that Lilah and Richie were still propping up. 

“That girl is too meek to whip anybody.”

“You don’t know her like I do,” Matt announced loftily, slinging back his rum and Coke with a grunt of appreciation for the alcohol splashing down his esophagus.  “She’s not as meek as she puts on.”

Both Jon and Tony’s heads whipped up with matching looks of confusion.  Jon had never even seen him talk to Lilah.

“What the fuck do you know about her?”  Tony snorted, apparently just as disbelieving.  “You’ve talked to her once?  Maybe twice?  You a fuckin’ mind-reader now, or somethin’?”

“You just can’t stand thinkin’ that maybe I know something you don’t fuckin’ know.”

Stepping in before it became a pissing contest, Jon suggested, “Why don’t you just tell us what the fuck you know?”

“Yeah.”

Shrugging one beefy shoulder, Matt’s eyes nonchalantly scanned the room.  “You know Sully… and his women.”

His brothers both nodded. 

Sully was one of the security guys who usually worked the front perimeter of the stage and Jon thought he did an outstanding job.  The good-looking guy had pulled more than one crazy woman down before they latched onto Jon’s ankle like a damn rattlesnake.   And, more often than not, the ones he pulled down came back to the hotel – or bus, or backstage or anyplace else he deemed appropriate – with him.  He considered it a ‘perk’ of his job.

“Well, he was telling me about this blonde chick from Dusseldorf.  I guess she asked about you, T, and who your girlfriend was.  Sully told her that he didn’t think you had a girlfriend and that seemed to surprise the blonde.   She wouldn’t tell him what had been said other than Lilah ripped her and her friend a new one for a conversation she’d overheard them having about you.”    Again, one beefy shoulder inched upward.  “Doesn’t sound so meek to me.”

Well, well.  Maybe she’s got more spunk than I gave her credit for.

“She’s not meek, she’s… “  Tony shook his head with a chuckle, spotting the topic of their conversation winding through the crowd while holding a fruity-looking drink over her head.  “…sweet.  Considerate, I guess.”

“Well if it isn’t the handsomest man in the room and his two brothers,” she sing-songed over the music that had begun pulsing quietly through the room and sliding her arm around Tony’s waist to greet him with a warm grin.  “Hi, handsome.”

“I can get you kicked out of the fan club for that kinda shit,” Jon drawled, holding his empty glass up to a server, who promptly tried to replace it.  Declining the refill, he simply off-loaded the empty glass.  “You’re hell on my ego, Lilah.”

“Pfft!”  Her over-bright eyes and flushed cheeks told them all just how much she’d enjoyed the party so far.  “What a crock.  You don’t give a damn what I say.”

Maybe she’s more perceptive than I gave her credit for, too.

“Is that a camera diggin’ into my hip or are you just glad to see me?”  Barely registering on her radar, Lilah had already turned her attention away from Jon to openly flirt with Tony.  Her eyebrows were dancing to the tune of her lascivious smile. 

“Both.” 

His brother’s ravenous look of hunger made him a little nauseous.  He didn’t need to be witness to this.  Seriously.

“That’s our cue to get the hell out, Matty,” he announced with a hearty clap to Matt’s shoulder.  “I’ve got some necklaces to award.”

“Hey!  No, wait…”  Lilah separated herself from Tony.  “It’s the last party of the tour.  The infamous Bongiovi brothers should be commemorated for posterity’s sake.  Lemme borrow your camera, Jersey.  I want y’all to have a picture.”

Tony relinquished his coveted camera without a peep and Jon sighed, resigning himself to yet another photo.  Positioning himself between the other two men, he placed a hand in each of their backs and produced the perfunctory smile that would pass for sincere.

Tucking her drink on the floor between her sparkly boots – sparkly boots? – she lifted the camera to her face and fired off a shot.  The flash let Jon know he could proceed with his evening.

“No, no, no!  Don’t move,” she hurriedly blurted.  “Matt, your smile was good, but Jon and Tony were lookin’ at me like I had a possum on my head.  Lemme take another one.  Matt, you get in the middle and make them look alive.”

Shuffling around as requested, the tallest of the three agreeably draped his arms around the others.

“Okay, good.  Now…  Say ‘Lisbions’!” 

Matt cackled, and Tony threw out a rocker’s hand gesture while Jon silently kept his professional smile in place.

Lisbions?  Christ a’mighty.  That sounds like something Lemma would say.

“Okay, that’s good,” Lilah approved after snapping the photo, giving the guys permission to move before stooping to retrieve her drink and returning Tony’s hardware. 

Then, before Jon realized her intent, she had whirled around and pulled him into a quick embrace, immediately following up with the same for Matt.  Hugs complete, she returned to their brother's side and offered a beaming smile, saying, “I wish you both luck, love and lust.  It’s been… surreal meeting you.  Thank you.”

That left Jon in an awkward spot as Matt wished her the same.  Seeing as he and Lilah had gotten off to a viciously rocky start, he felt like he should say something a little more, but…

She’s Tony’s fuck buddy.  There’s no need for some contrived apology and speech.  Be polite and find a suitable cliché for the occasion.

“Take care, Lilah.  We’ll see you out there on the road.”