John Francis

Richie’s morning had not started well.

He’d left the hotel last night deeply worried about Jon and Amanda. He’d seen Jon’s anger after the concert and didn’t know how to reach him, what to say to make him not dig himself into a hole he couldn’t get out of.

Jon had the most amazing ability to simply “flash freeze” someone out of his life. Richie had seen him be in a room with two or three people, one of whom had done or said something that had truly pissed Jon off. No matter what was said by the person, it was as if he or she had ceased to exist. Oh, Jon smiled and was pleasant, but he didn’t change how he treated them. And he never changed his mind.

Stubborn, thy name is Jon Bon Jovi.

What worried him was that Jon was reacting to what he believed Amanda had done, not what had actually happened.

Where was Mrs. Bongiovi in all this? How the hell was she going to fix something if she didn’t even do the smallest thing?

He reached for his phone.

Jon first.

~~~

Jon had been pacing in his apartment for almost two hours. He knew Amanda had to have woken up by now, had seen the note in the room and hopefully had also gotten the note where he’d apologized.

Jesus, he couldn’t believe what he had done. He was a lot of things, but cruel wasn’t one of them.

Last night he thought he could just sleep with her. Get her out of his system.

It had failed miserably.

As he walked back and forth, his movements oddly jerky for such a physical man, he stopped only to light another cigarette. He choked back a cough as the smoke hit his throat and looked between the cigarette and the apartment windows as if one or the other would tell him what to do.

When his phone rang he reached for it quickly, eager for the distraction. He slowed once he saw the caller ID. Richie.

“Hey, Rich.”

“Hey man…I just wanted…“ Richie sighed, then tried again.“…you two work things out?”

Work things out? I fucked her then left her in the hotel room to wake up alone…

His conscience was turning into an ugly spike-heeled bastard, gloating in the background and refusing to sit down and shut up.

He felt a flare of anger; at himself, at Richie, at Amanda. His jaw tightened.

“Nah, it ain’t happen, Rich.”

“What do ya mean? That woman is still crazy in love with you.” Richie said, his eyebrows raising in surprise on the other end of the phone.

“So? I gave her what she wanted.” Jon’s voice now took on the characteristic tone Richie knew so well, the one where Jon has fucked up but doesn’t want to admit it.

“What the hell does that mean?” Richie’s voice reached a new level of growling.

“Hell, man, you should know. She wanted laid, she got it.”

Jon knew he was lying the moment the words left his mouth.

Richie was speechless for a moment. He recovered.

“You are such a prick. Good luck finding her when you change your mind.”

The phone slamming in Jon’s ear was loud.

But not as loud as the voice in his head telling him he was such an asshole.

~~~

Patricia and Richie were having breakfast after his phone call to Jon. He had not been as forthcoming with her as he wanted to and decided he needed some advice outside the band, someone who could be more impartial. Patricia’s next sentence helped make that decision.

“Stop me if you don’t want to talk, but there is something way wrong with Jon and Amanda. I got her on the phone, but she wouldn’t talk about anything. In fact, she outright refused. It was a pretty strange conversation.”

Richie nodded at her.

“…yeah…shit, Trish, this is not good…” and then he told her just how “not good” it was.

When he had finished, they sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

Pouring them each another coffee, Patricia shook her head sadly.

“Richie, you’re Jon’s best friend. Whatever you have to do to help them, go do it.”

Looking at the woman across the table from him, Richie felt emotions stirring in his heart that he had been trying to mask for some time. He caught her hand in his.

“Trish…have I told you yet I’m nuts about you?” His whiskey smooth voice softened as he looked at her.

Slowly shaking her head ‘no’, she looked into the deep chocolate eyes that met hers.

He grinned at her, a twinkle in his eyes.

Then I’m tellin’ ya.”

She smiled back at him.

“I love you, Trish.”

“I love you too, Richie.”

~~~

Richie dialed Mrs. B on the way to his car. She answered on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Carol? It’s Richie.”

There was silence on the line.

“Carol?”

He heard her take a breath.

“I’m here.”

“Amanda showed up at the concert last night.”

Carol squinted her eyes closed as she heard the tone in Richie’s voice. Whatever had happened, it didn’t sound as if it had gone as she’d hoped.

“And…?”

Now it was Richie’s turn to take a deep breath.

“He was pissed. Refused to see her.”

“My son can be stubborn.”

“Carol, he loves her. He spent the night with her, but nothing seems to have changed.”

“Richie, maybe this is for the best. Maybe they weren’t meant to be together…”

“I thought you were going to help.”

“I did! I’m the one who sent her a text message from Jon’s phone. I thought that if they would see each other again, they would talk and she would tell him…”

“So you don’t have to, right?” Richie’s voice roughened as he remembered from whom Jon had gotten his stubbornness.

Carol sighed. “Richie…”

“He loves her. She loves him. He’s gonna let her go, Carol. Gonna let her walk right out his life because he doesn’t know the truth and she won’t tell him because of you.”

There was a long silence on the phone.

“Just let me have a little more time.” Carol said.

“Time is not your friend here, Mom.” Riche spoke softly into the phone.

Carol slowly disconnected the call.

~~~

Patricia sat on the lid of the toilet seat in her bathroom, staring blankly at the light pink walls. She’d managed to wait until Richie left, but then just barely made it to the bathroom. She’d been throwing up every morning for days. She knew she had some sort of strange stomach flu, something that only bothered her in the morning.

She shook her head as she wiped her mouth.

She wasn’t sick, she was delusional.

What she had just confirmed was impossible. It just couldn’t be. There wasn’t a single chance, not a snowball’s chance in hell, not if hell froze over, out of the realm of possibility.

Oh fuck!

She looked again. Re-read the directions, sure there had been some mistake, some human error, some stupid step she had missed.

There wasn’t on the first one.

Or the second.

Or even the third.

She was pregnant.