John Francis

Jon had loved her surprise. He had leered at her behind Richie’s back, the devilish light in his eyes reminding her of the outcome of their first ride. He was still talking about having the bike in Jersey as they all went to their rooms to dress. Following him into the room, Amanda felt a wave of dizziness flow over her and steadied herself against the frame of the door. Jon turned inquiring eyes toward her when she stopped.

“You okay”

Amanda shook her head, as if to clear it, and answered him.

“Yeah, just got dizzy. I’m fine.”

He looked at her penetratingly for a few more seconds, then turned toward the bathroom as she moved into the room.

“You wanna shower first, hon?” He asked, motioning towards the bathroom.

“Yeah, that sounds great. Give me a few minutes, okay?” She smiled and closed the door.

Jon stood for a few seconds looking at the closed door and then turned away to pull out a suit.

Inside the bathroom, Amanda began undressing, her skin crinkling at the coolness of the tile against her feet. She started to get into the running shower, but stopped suddenly when nausea hit, and hit hard. A sense of vertigo again swept over her and she found herself gripping the sides of the sink once her stomach allowed her to stand again. A knock at the door had her reaching for the mouthwash.

“Can I come in, babe?” She heard Jon call through the door.

Her answer contained the residue of a gargle, but it seemed Jon heard her anyway when the door opened and he came in. She smiled fleetingly, moving into the shower as Jon ran water to shave.

Amanda showed quickly as she just couldn’t get the water the right temperature. First too hot, then too cold, there never was a “just right”. Jon turned surprised eyes to her as she grabbed a towel from the rack.

“That was quick.”

She made a small grimace.

“Just couldn’t get the water the right temp.”

“You alright?” Jon’s head cocked to the side as he looked at her more closely. He reached out a hand to her forehead before she could answer.

Amanda started to answer, then stopped as Jon’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re really hot.” He frowned at her as she stepped away to reach her robe on the back of the door.

“I’ll take some Tylenol. I’m fine, Jon, really.” She slipped on the robe, settling it tightly against her wet skin.

“Go get your shower.”

He drew off his sweats as he answered.

“Okay, but take something.”

“I will.” Amanda closed the door as the shower turned on.

Heading for the kitchen, she paused once more on the steps as her stomach seemed to flip-flop.

“Please don’t let me be getting sick.” She mumble-prayed as she went into the kitchen. Getting a few Tylenol, she grabbed a ginger ale from the fridge to settle her protesting stomach, taking the pills with the first swallow.

By the time she had finished her makeup, the Tylenol had kicked in and she started to feel a little better. No longer so dizzy and with her stomach giving her a respite, Amanda dried her hair and finished dressing. Jon had gone downstairs and was on the phone when she joined him several minutes later.

Richie entered from the kitchen and at Jon’s nod toward the door, they grabbed coats and headed out to the limo.

~~~

Later on Amanda would wonder how she managed to make it through the night.

Whatever was happening to her, the feeling increased in intensity as the night wore on. She felt removed from the party, as if she was floating somewhere outside herself. The fever she’d had before seemed to return with a vengeance and her stomach was so queasy she’d almost had to bolt from the room a handful of times.

Introduction after introduction had blurred names and faces of even the famous into a memory consisting of snapshots without much substance. Bruce, Demi, Ashton, even Springsteen, it made no difference who or how famous.

She sank back into the limo seat, still relishing the cool night air that had accompanied their exit from the hotel. Jon was talking a mile a minute, flushed with good humor, the good wishes of his friends and family, and a not small amount of liquid cheer.

“That was great! Did you get to spend some time with Bruce? Isn’t he a great guy? Gotta give mom some credit, that turned out great!” He nearly bubbled with enthusiasm, turning his talk into a laugh as his phone rang.

“Rich! My man! What’s up?”

Amanda tuned out the conversation as the car drove moved in and out of traffic. She tried directing one of the A/C vents towards her face in a vain attempt to cool the heat of her skin. Her stomach rolled.

“Stop…” Her voice came out a whisper as she clutched her stomach and the side of the car to stop the spinning.

“Please … stop the car …” A low moan escaped her as the nausea escalated. She could hear Jon laugh at something Richie said.

She reached out and touched his arm.

“Jon, please … stop the car!” Her voice rose as she was seconds from disaster.

Turning from the phone, Jon saw her face as she raised her hand to her mouth. He pressed the intercom and the car rolled to a stop on the side of the road.

Amanda threw the door open, barely making it out. She dropped to one knee as the waves rolled over her.

Inside the car, Jon quickly ended the call and was out at her side within moments.

“Manda! Jesus! Honey, are you okay?”

Unable to answer, Amanda appreciated the assistance of his hand on her shoulder, the other helping to hold her hair back.

“Mr. Bon Jovi?” The driver hesitantly stood beside the two. “Do you want me to call…?“ His voice trailed off as he looked to Jon for the answer.

Jon threw the driver a glance, then turned back to Amanda.

She had raised a hand, waving it back and forth in a “no” manner.

“No, I guess not. Just give us a few minutes.” He turned his attention back to Amanda as the driver returned to the front of the car.

Getting to her feet with Jon’s aid, Amanda felt immeasurably better now that the worst of it seemed to have passed.

She drew her hand through her hair and sighed.

“I’m … okay …”

Jon helped her back into the limo, knocking the window to send the car moving.

The ride back to the house was interrupted twice more.

~~~

“Jon … you have to go.” Amanda’s voice was little more than a rasp at seven the next morning.

“I don’t want to leave you like this.” Jon paced the bedroom, a hand running through his unbrushed hair.

Amanda coughed, then drew the covers up further.

“It’s the flu. Go.” She sank down into the pillows, too tired and too ill to argue further.

Jon glanced at his watch, watching the numbers change from 7:02 to 7:03. The plane was leaving at nine that morning and if he didn’t go soon, he would miss it.

“Let me at least call Linda.”

Shaking her head, Amanda coughed again.

“No … she’s visiting her grandkids … I’ll be fine.”

Still hesitating, Jon looked at her as she met his eyes.

Managing a brief smile, she spoke again.

“Call me when you get in.”

He moved to her side, kissing her forehead, nearly wincing at the warmth. Within those few minutes she had fallen asleep again and his goodbye was a whisper she didn’t hear.