Too wired to sleep after Richie left, Jon started making coffee…and lists. He liked lists. They clarified his thinking, sorted out his plans, and gave him a direction to take. He’d usually have two or three filled with his barely legible scrawl before he’d even stop to take a real breath. Which is why he found himself frowning, scowling really, at the blank sheets of paper in front of him.
At first he’d thought of hiring a private detective, but considering that his mother’s hiring of one had started this whole avalanche of fuck-uppery, he was hesitant to go that route. He didn’t have any friends in NCIS to triangulate Amanda’s cell phone signal and even if he did, he’d be hard pressed to convince them this was the emergency he thought it was.
Jon sighed and lit another cigarette.
Fuck.
Shit. Fuck.
Shit. Fuck. Motherfuck.
Even swearing wasn’t helping.
He looked at his watch. Almost nine. He dialed the number he’d stored in his cellphone from months earlier and waited while it rang.
“Hello? Mrs. Adams? It’s Jon Bongio --”
He didn’t even get his entire name out before he was speaking to a dead phone.
Apparently calling Amanda’s mother was working out just as well as he thought it would.
Which was not at all.
~~~
Amanda was up the rest of the night and saw the dawn with eyes blurred from lack of sleep. She had found herself unable to go back to bed, afraid she would dream again. It was bad enough that she kept replaying it over and over as she sat outside, a blanket keeping her warm, a single carafe of wine slowly being emptied.
Dreaming it again and waking to find it was real life would be too much. She would have to sleep, of course, but not tonight. Not if she could help it.
As light gradually brightened her terrace, she stirred from her blanket cocoon and walked into the bathroom. The shower helped her wake up a little more, the water warm and soothing. She dressed for the day, intending to spend it walking as much as she could so that when she tried to sleep that night, she would do so without dreaming.
Please, God, no more dreams.
It didn’t help to know that being awake wasn’t any better.
Amanda had been in Greece for almost a week. It was gorgeous and the people were warm and friendly, yet every day so far had passed in a fog of pain that sleep brought no relief from.
What she wanted was for her love for Jon to die.
Learning what Jeremy had done had killed her feelings for him with one swift slice through her heart. The cords that held her to him had been severed the moment she’d learned that he’d betrayed her in the way that he had. An affair she might have forgiven. Ending their life, her life, as she knew it had not only had ended her love for him, but had changed what she knew thought she knew about herself. About who she was and her place in this world.
Amanda fingered the bracelet on her arm, the tangible reminder of the man known as Jon bon Jovi and that for a brief moment he had been in her life. The problem was that she did not give her heart lightly. She would have been with Jeremy until the end and there would never have been a man named Jon who would have awakened feelings she’d never felt before. She had come to realize over the last few days that while Jeremy was her first love, he was not her true love.
Her true love was a man she would never see again.
~~~
“Richie!” Trish screamed as the big man suddenly hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for thick carpeting and no nearby sharp edges.
One cold rag later, Richie found himself blinking his eyes and staring up as Trish wiped his forehead as water slowly trickled down and into one of his ears.
“Trish?” he asked, squinting his eyes in confusion.
“Richie! Thank God! Are you alright?” Trish’s hands seemed to suddenly be everywhere as she tried to check that everything was working properly.
Richie sat up, a little slowly as new aches and pains added themselves to the ones he got just a short while ago from his bout with Jon.
“What happened?” Richie asked, looking around, surprised to find himself on the floor.
“I think you fainted,” Trish said.
Richie’s face suddenly reminded Trish of an indignant cat.
“I did not faint. I have never fainted in my life.”
Trish just grinned at him now that she realized he hadn’t been hurt. She watched him stand and only reached out a hand once when he wobbled just a little.
Richie wasn’t sure his legs would hold him up. They seemed to have turned into a curious form of leg-shaped jelly and he willed himself to take several deep breaths.
Trish cleared her throat softly. “Uhm, Richie, do you remember the last thing I said to you?”
He looked at her and it was apparent he was thinking. She knew the moment he remembered when his eyes widened and his mouth formed a soft “O”.
“You’re pregnant,” he gulped and Trish almost smiled as he stated the obvious. “And -- you’re -- triplets?”
Trish nodded with a bemused look suddenly on her face.
Richie started to speak. “Well…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I think I -- want to sit down.” He matched action to words and sat heavily on the couch.
Trish sat down on the other end of the couch, a bit unsure of herself in light of Richie’s apparent shock at her announcement although she was a little relieved to see she wasn’t the only one who’d had her whole world rocked.
She had always wanted a baby. Maybe even two, three if she had to pick the magic number, but one baby at a time. Just one. Learning she was going to have three at once had been enough to bring her to alternating bouts of laughter and tears throughout the morning. Richie had happened to arrive after one of the crying spells.
Finally realizing he could speak in entire sentences, Richie asked, “What did the doctor say?”
She sighed. The doctor had said quite a lot actually. “Lots of rest. No lifting anything over ten pounds. No vigorous exercise. And he wants me to see a nutritionist.”
Richie nodded along as Trish recited each item. “Good, good, okay, we can do all that.”
They fell into silence then, each with their own thoughts.
Trish finally spoke. “I’m terrified, Richie.”
Richie looked at her, seeing the truth of her words in her eyes.
“You’ll be ok, baby. We’ll make sure of it.”
(*wink* Bayaderra)
Showing posts with label bon jovi fan fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bon jovi fan fiction. Show all posts
John Francis - Chapter 250
Sunday, December 4, 2011
at
4:36 PM
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Chapter 227
Monday, March 8, 2010
at
1:42 PM
Everyone who knew Jon knew something was wrong. Deeply wrong. Unbelievably wrong. The man who never had trouble talking to anyone about anything had changed. If the answer to a question wasn’t a grunt, it was one word. If it was more than that, it was with a sharp edge seldom heard from him before.
Sharon was meeting with him one afternoon and when she asked something about Amanda and an upcoming event, Jon’s response had her nearly in tears at its harshness. He apologized later, but it wasn’t the last time something like it would happen.
He hadn’t asked Richie not to say anything to the other guys, so he wasn’t surprised to get a call from Tico.
“Hey man…” Tico called in greeting as Jon answered his phone.
“Hey T…”
Tico’s rough voice didn’t mince words. “Jon, Richie called and I ain’t believin’ it.”
“Believe it. She’s gone and I have a note from her. She set it up from the beginning.”
“Listen to me. Ain’t nobody THAT good at lyin’. There’d have been something to give her away. All of us and nobody saw or heard anything? That’s what I’m not believing.”
Jon gave a heavy sigh. “Then she’s real fucking good, isn’t she?”
An answering sigh met his ears. “I guess so, but something’s not right about this.”
“Let it go, T, I have. She got what she wanted and now she’s gone.” To Tico, Jon’s voice sounded resigned, yet so full of anger and pain. He wanted to say something, anything, to help, but no matter what he thought of, it seemed too little, too trite.
“I’m sorry, man.” Tico finally managed.
There was a long pause and then his friend’s soft voice answered.
“Yeah, me too.”
~~~
Later that same day, sitting in his office at the Soul headquarters, Jon’s cell rang. Seeing it was his mother, he gave a sigh and answered.
“Hi.”
“Hi Jonny. Am I interrupting?”
“No. What do you want?”
Carol was taken aback a bit at the flat tone in her son’s voice.
“I don’t want anything. I just haven’t talked to you in a few days and wanted to see how you are.”
“Fine. Busy.”
“But you said I wasn’t interrupting.” She heard Jon sigh.
“You’re not. I’m fine.”
“Your dad and I wanted to see if you would come to dinner soon. Matt and Tony too. Just a nice family dinner.”
“A nice family dinner.” Jon couldn’t disguise the sarcasm in his voice.
“Jon! What’s the matter? I can hear it in your voice. Something’s wrong!”
“Nothing’s wrong, but I can’t make a dinner. Sorry.” Jon’s voice was increasingly abrupt.
“But you don’t even know when it will be!” Carol was becoming genuinely concerned.
“It doesn’t matter when it is. Right now I’m too busy. Sorry.” Unfortunately, he didn’t sound sorry in the least.
“Jon…” Carol began, but stopped when he interrupted her.
“My other line is ringing. I have to go. Bye.”
For the first time in his life Jon hung up on his mother.
~~~
Jon was spending his days in a rage-induced fog. Every sound seemed too loud, every voice was grating, every decision was an intrusion.
Parts of his world seemed to be crashing down and he wasn’t sure what had happened. The Soul was going to be disbanded as Arena Football was coming to an end. Temporary or no, right now there was no way to say.
So many people depending on him, so many decisions to make and he found himself questioning over and over again each one. Unsure of his judgment, feeling as if he no longer could get a read on people, on their true motivations, as if there was always something under the surface, and that something had fangs.
He was sticking his fingers into everything, trying anything to get his mind off the one subject, the one person, he didn’t want to think about.
Amanda.
Married.
Fuck me.
He had no idea how she’d hidden who she was so well. No idea how he had missed every clue, any clue, that the woman he had fallen in love with, the one he wanted to marry, spend the rest of his life with, could be a complete fraud.
I am such a fool.
He viciously stomped on the little voice that kept insisting he look for her, demand an answer, look in her eyes when she explained her lies.
That little voice was wounded, but didn’t die.
~~~
Richie stood there silent, watching the sudden tears of the woman sitting so dejectedly on the side of the bed. First her eyes had gotten even wider and her mouth had opened. Then her face fell. The tears were silent and just rolled down her upturned face, until she lowered her head and her shoulders drooped.
Softening his voice a little, he spoke to her.
“Tell me why.”
She never looked up, just shook her head back and forth in denial.
“Then give me what you took.”
This brought her eyes back up to his face.
“What did I take?” Her voice sounded weary, even as the hurt she felt grew.
Richie ground out his words in such a way that there appeared to be spaces between each one.
“His cards, the jewelry, and the engagement ring you threw back in his face.”
Amanda was so astonished at this that words wouldn’t form.
“Look, I know you didn’t expect to see any of us again and you knew he wouldn’t come after you for them. But now that I know and I found you, I WANT HIS SHIT BACK!”
She actually flinched at the growl in his voice at those final words and this brought her up off the bed, standing rigidly in front of him.
“I did NOT take those things. I left them in an envelope on Jon’s desk in his office.”
Richie continued to stare at her, arms crossed, face unyielding. Then he moved.
Amanda took a step back, which sat her jarringly back on the bed, but Richie only walked over to the window on the opposite side of the bed while reaching for his cell phone.
“Jon? I’ve found Amanda. She’s here in California. What? No, I don’t know yet…she…”
Richie spun from the window at the snick of the door closing, the room empty.
“SHIT! She left!” Richie closed the phone on Jon’s words and crossed the room, throwing the door open, running out into … an empty hallway.
Sharon was meeting with him one afternoon and when she asked something about Amanda and an upcoming event, Jon’s response had her nearly in tears at its harshness. He apologized later, but it wasn’t the last time something like it would happen.
He hadn’t asked Richie not to say anything to the other guys, so he wasn’t surprised to get a call from Tico.
“Hey man…” Tico called in greeting as Jon answered his phone.
“Hey T…”
Tico’s rough voice didn’t mince words. “Jon, Richie called and I ain’t believin’ it.”
“Believe it. She’s gone and I have a note from her. She set it up from the beginning.”
“Listen to me. Ain’t nobody THAT good at lyin’. There’d have been something to give her away. All of us and nobody saw or heard anything? That’s what I’m not believing.”
Jon gave a heavy sigh. “Then she’s real fucking good, isn’t she?”
An answering sigh met his ears. “I guess so, but something’s not right about this.”
“Let it go, T, I have. She got what she wanted and now she’s gone.” To Tico, Jon’s voice sounded resigned, yet so full of anger and pain. He wanted to say something, anything, to help, but no matter what he thought of, it seemed too little, too trite.
“I’m sorry, man.” Tico finally managed.
There was a long pause and then his friend’s soft voice answered.
“Yeah, me too.”
~~~
Later that same day, sitting in his office at the Soul headquarters, Jon’s cell rang. Seeing it was his mother, he gave a sigh and answered.
“Hi.”
“Hi Jonny. Am I interrupting?”
“No. What do you want?”
Carol was taken aback a bit at the flat tone in her son’s voice.
“I don’t want anything. I just haven’t talked to you in a few days and wanted to see how you are.”
“Fine. Busy.”
“But you said I wasn’t interrupting.” She heard Jon sigh.
“You’re not. I’m fine.”
“Your dad and I wanted to see if you would come to dinner soon. Matt and Tony too. Just a nice family dinner.”
“A nice family dinner.” Jon couldn’t disguise the sarcasm in his voice.
“Jon! What’s the matter? I can hear it in your voice. Something’s wrong!”
“Nothing’s wrong, but I can’t make a dinner. Sorry.” Jon’s voice was increasingly abrupt.
“But you don’t even know when it will be!” Carol was becoming genuinely concerned.
“It doesn’t matter when it is. Right now I’m too busy. Sorry.” Unfortunately, he didn’t sound sorry in the least.
“Jon…” Carol began, but stopped when he interrupted her.
“My other line is ringing. I have to go. Bye.”
For the first time in his life Jon hung up on his mother.
~~~
Jon was spending his days in a rage-induced fog. Every sound seemed too loud, every voice was grating, every decision was an intrusion.
Parts of his world seemed to be crashing down and he wasn’t sure what had happened. The Soul was going to be disbanded as Arena Football was coming to an end. Temporary or no, right now there was no way to say.
So many people depending on him, so many decisions to make and he found himself questioning over and over again each one. Unsure of his judgment, feeling as if he no longer could get a read on people, on their true motivations, as if there was always something under the surface, and that something had fangs.
He was sticking his fingers into everything, trying anything to get his mind off the one subject, the one person, he didn’t want to think about.
Amanda.
Married.
Fuck me.
He had no idea how she’d hidden who she was so well. No idea how he had missed every clue, any clue, that the woman he had fallen in love with, the one he wanted to marry, spend the rest of his life with, could be a complete fraud.
I am such a fool.
He viciously stomped on the little voice that kept insisting he look for her, demand an answer, look in her eyes when she explained her lies.
That little voice was wounded, but didn’t die.
~~~
Richie stood there silent, watching the sudden tears of the woman sitting so dejectedly on the side of the bed. First her eyes had gotten even wider and her mouth had opened. Then her face fell. The tears were silent and just rolled down her upturned face, until she lowered her head and her shoulders drooped.
Softening his voice a little, he spoke to her.
“Tell me why.”
She never looked up, just shook her head back and forth in denial.
“Then give me what you took.”
This brought her eyes back up to his face.
“What did I take?” Her voice sounded weary, even as the hurt she felt grew.
Richie ground out his words in such a way that there appeared to be spaces between each one.
“His cards, the jewelry, and the engagement ring you threw back in his face.”
Amanda was so astonished at this that words wouldn’t form.
“Look, I know you didn’t expect to see any of us again and you knew he wouldn’t come after you for them. But now that I know and I found you, I WANT HIS SHIT BACK!”
She actually flinched at the growl in his voice at those final words and this brought her up off the bed, standing rigidly in front of him.
“I did NOT take those things. I left them in an envelope on Jon’s desk in his office.”
Richie continued to stare at her, arms crossed, face unyielding. Then he moved.
Amanda took a step back, which sat her jarringly back on the bed, but Richie only walked over to the window on the opposite side of the bed while reaching for his cell phone.
“Jon? I’ve found Amanda. She’s here in California. What? No, I don’t know yet…she…”
Richie spun from the window at the snick of the door closing, the room empty.
“SHIT! She left!” Richie closed the phone on Jon’s words and crossed the room, throwing the door open, running out into … an empty hallway.
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Chapter 221
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
at
6:03 PM
Carol threw out those words, knowing she had been right all along, that Amanda was only out to use her son. She watched as the words seem to reverberate around the room, her eyes never leaving Amanda’s face.
The moment of triumph she had anticipated never came. Amanda’s face whitened the most unnatural shade of pale Carol had ever seen and before she herself could do more than blink, Amanda hit the floor.
What?!? She fainted? Damn! Is she that sick?
Carol knelt beside the fallen woman, feeling her forehead, wincing at the heat radiating from her. She wanted to believe it was just her illness, that she had just stood too suddenly, that she was sicker than she had realized…but the truth had been there.
In the seconds after she spoken those two words, when Amanda’s face had whitened unnaturally, the shock in her eyes could not have been faked.
She didn’t know. Holy mother of god, she didn’t know!
Quickly dialing her cell, she reached one of her younger sons.
“Matt? I need you at Jon’s house, right now. Hurry!”
Carol started putting cool clothes on Amanda’s forehead, trying to rouse her from the faint. She wasn’t able to lift her back into the bed, but Matt was there before more than ten minutes had lapsed and he was able to get Amanda back into bed.
“Mom, what happened?” Matt looked between the two women, one still out, the other with an almost fearful look on her face.
“I came by to check on Amanda with Jon out of town and found her on the floor. She’s pretty sick, Matt.”
“No kidding, ma, where’s Linda?”
“She has the week off.”
“Should we get someone to stay with her?” Matt was also concerned about leaving her, knowing Jon would be seriously pissed if he found out she had been left alone while so sick.
Carol startled at those words. “No, no, I’ll stay with her. I just couldn’t get her back in bed. We’ll be fine, Matt.”
Knowing his mother’s attitude towards Amanda, Matt found this more than a little odd, but it was his mother and after making sure nothing else was needed, he left, saying he would check in with her later.
~~~
Amanda slowly woke, her head pounding, her stomach rolling, and quickly reached for the bucket beside the bed. A minute of dry heaves only made her stomach hurt worse and did nothing for her aching head. She closed her eyes and lay back down on the bed. She knew she had just had the worst dream of her life and was thankful beyond words that it had been only a dream.
“You didn’t know, did you?” The voice came from a far corner of the bedroom.
A small moan escaped Amanda’s parched lips as she recognized the voice. She knew now that it had not been a bad dream.
“ … No, I didn’t know …” Tears choked her words as she spoke.
Tears suddenly fell freely as she made herself look at Jon’s mother, expecting to see triumph on her face. Instead, for the first time, Carol seemed to be looking at her with something other than barely hidden contempt.
Clutching the bedpost as she rose, Amanda turned her face as she whispered.
“… please go away … please … no more … ”
Carol stood, indicating the folder that was still on the bed. Her voice was actually soft when she spoke.
“It’s all there, Amanda. Do the right thing. Don’t drag Jon into this. If you love him, don’t do this to him.”
“ … I’ll leave … because I do love him …”
She looked at Jon’s mother and whispered so low Carol almost wasn’t sure she had heard her correctly.
“…you’ve won…”
Amanda’s eyes then closed, tears streaming down her face. Carol stood for a moment looking at her, wondering if she should do this, if she could do this. When she thought of what the press would do to her son if they found out his fiancée was married, and to a drug dealer, she knew she had to do it.
She left the room without another word and made her way out of the house.
~~~
The first page of the report spelled it all out. In stark black and white.
She had no choice.
The note to Jon was the hardest thing she had to do. Compared to that, packing with a temperature of 103 degrees was a breeze.
Amanda left the cash and credit cards and all the jewelry he had bought her, with the exception of one item. She couldn’t make herself take off the bracelet he had given her. It was all she would take.
Dizzy with fever, making several unscheduled trips to the bathroom for her heaving stomach, she was finally able to go downstairs where she went into Jon’s office. She got a large envelope and put the cards and jewelry inside. Holding her left hand with her right, she sat for a moment in his chair at the desk, then with a sigh took off the ring and put it inside with the other items.
She picked up a pen, tears blurring her eyes, and wrote.
~~~
When the cab driver arrived, he put her small carry-on into the trunk. As Amanda was about to get into the cab, Steve, one of the three men assigned to her security, came around the house to the car.
He called out. “Amanda! Where are you going?”
She sighed, not prepared for the question.
“Hi Steve. I, uhm, I’m on my way over to Mrs. Bongiovi’s house. She knows I’m sick and that Linda is away, so she offered to have me come over there.” Her face burned slightly with her lie and she saw a bit of skepticism in his.
“Then I’ll drive you over.”
Her head was shaking ‘no’ even before she started talking. “No thanks. The cab is already here and I’m just going over to Jon’s mother’s house.” She got inside the cab to forestall anymore questions.
“Let’s go.” She quickly addressed the driver and closed the door.
Steve stood there for a few moments, watching the cab leave the gated estate. He was supposed to accompany her when she went out, but he had never been given actual instructions as to what he was supposed to do if she refused.
As the driver left the estate, turning onto the main road, he asked his passenger the address of their destination. Sitting, face turned to the window, Amanda didn’t hear him until he repeated almost gently “where to ma’am?”
Turning slowly to face the older gentleman, she gave a ghost of a smile.
“I have no idea.”
A frown crossed his face as he looked at her more closely.
“Ma’am? I need to know where you want to go.”
“To a hotel by the airport?” She asked wearily.
“Which one?”
Her answer was a sigh.
“It doesn’t matter.”
The driver gave her another look in his rearview mirror, saw the tears she had been trying to hide, and drove off.
The moment of triumph she had anticipated never came. Amanda’s face whitened the most unnatural shade of pale Carol had ever seen and before she herself could do more than blink, Amanda hit the floor.
What?!? She fainted? Damn! Is she that sick?
Carol knelt beside the fallen woman, feeling her forehead, wincing at the heat radiating from her. She wanted to believe it was just her illness, that she had just stood too suddenly, that she was sicker than she had realized…but the truth had been there.
In the seconds after she spoken those two words, when Amanda’s face had whitened unnaturally, the shock in her eyes could not have been faked.
She didn’t know. Holy mother of god, she didn’t know!
Quickly dialing her cell, she reached one of her younger sons.
“Matt? I need you at Jon’s house, right now. Hurry!”
Carol started putting cool clothes on Amanda’s forehead, trying to rouse her from the faint. She wasn’t able to lift her back into the bed, but Matt was there before more than ten minutes had lapsed and he was able to get Amanda back into bed.
“Mom, what happened?” Matt looked between the two women, one still out, the other with an almost fearful look on her face.
“I came by to check on Amanda with Jon out of town and found her on the floor. She’s pretty sick, Matt.”
“No kidding, ma, where’s Linda?”
“She has the week off.”
“Should we get someone to stay with her?” Matt was also concerned about leaving her, knowing Jon would be seriously pissed if he found out she had been left alone while so sick.
Carol startled at those words. “No, no, I’ll stay with her. I just couldn’t get her back in bed. We’ll be fine, Matt.”
Knowing his mother’s attitude towards Amanda, Matt found this more than a little odd, but it was his mother and after making sure nothing else was needed, he left, saying he would check in with her later.
~~~
Amanda slowly woke, her head pounding, her stomach rolling, and quickly reached for the bucket beside the bed. A minute of dry heaves only made her stomach hurt worse and did nothing for her aching head. She closed her eyes and lay back down on the bed. She knew she had just had the worst dream of her life and was thankful beyond words that it had been only a dream.
“You didn’t know, did you?” The voice came from a far corner of the bedroom.
A small moan escaped Amanda’s parched lips as she recognized the voice. She knew now that it had not been a bad dream.
“ … No, I didn’t know …” Tears choked her words as she spoke.
Tears suddenly fell freely as she made herself look at Jon’s mother, expecting to see triumph on her face. Instead, for the first time, Carol seemed to be looking at her with something other than barely hidden contempt.
Clutching the bedpost as she rose, Amanda turned her face as she whispered.
“… please go away … please … no more … ”
Carol stood, indicating the folder that was still on the bed. Her voice was actually soft when she spoke.
“It’s all there, Amanda. Do the right thing. Don’t drag Jon into this. If you love him, don’t do this to him.”
“ … I’ll leave … because I do love him …”
She looked at Jon’s mother and whispered so low Carol almost wasn’t sure she had heard her correctly.
“…you’ve won…”
Amanda’s eyes then closed, tears streaming down her face. Carol stood for a moment looking at her, wondering if she should do this, if she could do this. When she thought of what the press would do to her son if they found out his fiancée was married, and to a drug dealer, she knew she had to do it.
She left the room without another word and made her way out of the house.
~~~
The first page of the report spelled it all out. In stark black and white.
She had no choice.
The note to Jon was the hardest thing she had to do. Compared to that, packing with a temperature of 103 degrees was a breeze.
Amanda left the cash and credit cards and all the jewelry he had bought her, with the exception of one item. She couldn’t make herself take off the bracelet he had given her. It was all she would take.
Dizzy with fever, making several unscheduled trips to the bathroom for her heaving stomach, she was finally able to go downstairs where she went into Jon’s office. She got a large envelope and put the cards and jewelry inside. Holding her left hand with her right, she sat for a moment in his chair at the desk, then with a sigh took off the ring and put it inside with the other items.
She picked up a pen, tears blurring her eyes, and wrote.
~~~
When the cab driver arrived, he put her small carry-on into the trunk. As Amanda was about to get into the cab, Steve, one of the three men assigned to her security, came around the house to the car.
He called out. “Amanda! Where are you going?”
She sighed, not prepared for the question.
“Hi Steve. I, uhm, I’m on my way over to Mrs. Bongiovi’s house. She knows I’m sick and that Linda is away, so she offered to have me come over there.” Her face burned slightly with her lie and she saw a bit of skepticism in his.
“Then I’ll drive you over.”
Her head was shaking ‘no’ even before she started talking. “No thanks. The cab is already here and I’m just going over to Jon’s mother’s house.” She got inside the cab to forestall anymore questions.
“Let’s go.” She quickly addressed the driver and closed the door.
Steve stood there for a few moments, watching the cab leave the gated estate. He was supposed to accompany her when she went out, but he had never been given actual instructions as to what he was supposed to do if she refused.
As the driver left the estate, turning onto the main road, he asked his passenger the address of their destination. Sitting, face turned to the window, Amanda didn’t hear him until he repeated almost gently “where to ma’am?”
Turning slowly to face the older gentleman, she gave a ghost of a smile.
“I have no idea.”
A frown crossed his face as he looked at her more closely.
“Ma’am? I need to know where you want to go.”
“To a hotel by the airport?” She asked wearily.
“Which one?”
Her answer was a sigh.
“It doesn’t matter.”
The driver gave her another look in his rearview mirror, saw the tears she had been trying to hide, and drove off.
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richie sambora
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John Francis - Chapter 5
Monday, April 14, 2008
at
4:15 PM
The warm water felt heavenly to Amanda. Her head was a bit tender when the water, then shampoo and conditioner, hit the sore area, but realized it was not nearly as bad as she had feared.
She felt emotionally drained after telling Richie what had really happened. Now she needed to tell herself. She had made love with another man. For the first time in 23 years she had given herself over to another man. That it was not her choice to start did not mean it had not been good sex. Okay, amazing sex. That it was Jon Bon Jovi didn’t really enter into it, even now, as in the night it had been a man, just a man.
She had married at 20 and been faithful her entire marriage. She had loved Jeremy so it was easy not to stray. But, looking at things in the cold, hard light of morning, she knew it had also been a hard year and she had missed the warmth of a man…her man, yes…but also the pulsing throbbing warmth of a man, deep inside, taking her over the edge and beyond.
So, she supposed she owed the jerk at least a semi-thank you for bringing her back to the land of the living. Shaking her head at the irony of the situation, she left the shower and started to get dried.
Jon was sitting in the kitchen shirtless in a pair of jeans, drinking another cup of coffee, when Amanda found the kitchen. She was following the smell of coffee and had closed her eyes briefly in anticipation, then opened them again to find the shocked blue eyes of Jon looking at her.
She paused, then marched determinately to the coffee pot and the rack of mugs hanging near by. “Is there any cream?” she asked without looking at him again.
“Uh, in the fridge, I think, I’ll get it.” He started to jump up.
She turned then and looked at him “Oh I think you’ve already given me quite enough. Tell me something though – did you use protection or were you too drunk to think about anything but fucking?”
He stopped dead at the ice in her tone, his guilt eating away at him like never before in his life.
“I used protection,” he answered softly, almost unable to meet her eyes.
She nodded jerkily then opened the fridge and got the cream. He truly had no clue what to say to her as there was no excuse for what he had done. Thinking about last night brought back the feel of her and he wished his dick would stay dead instead of rising to full attention when she bent over to get the cream from the bottom shelf. He sat down quickly, determined not to scare her. He had to talk to her. She stirred her coffee and bent to put the cream back again and again his dick jumped as if bit.
She kept her back to him for a few minutes and he took the opportunity to look at her from head to toe now that he was sober. She had improved from when he was drunk. She was tall, he noticed that first, probably close to his height, and lean, with well-rounded hips.
But that hair, Jesus, that fucking hair of hers. His balls started to ache when he realized he wanted that hair in his hands again, brushing against his body, until she again almost fucked them off the bed… ‘oh shit, she turned’ he thought he whispered to himself, until he realized she heard him and had seen him looking at her ass and her hair and…remembering.
In light of what had happened, Amanda had been determined to act as normally as she could. Jon staring at her ass though brought a flash of memories to her mind and a telltale flush to her skin. She didn’t have a bra on and her nipples sprang erect and to her disbelief she felt herself moisten. Her eyes closed briefly as the remembered sensation of his being inside brought heat and a tingle to her loins. She felt herself responding to the man sitting there.
She flushed deeper, blushed actually, and lowered her head. Jon once again thought his cock was going to explode if he did not have this woman. Richie and Tico had gone to try to find clothes in her size as hers were pretty much ready for the garbage can, even after washing. In fact, it was probably the multiple washings that did them in. They were alone.
Jon had to stand or he was going to strangle in his jeans. He stood and her eyes flashed open, but this time they did not meet his. Her gaze went unwillingly to the front of his pants, to the bulge he could not hide. An ache so deep she couldn’t breathe filled her most feminine parts and she started to tremble.
Her eyes then flicked up to his face and stayed locked there by the intensity of his gaze. There was no sneer on his lips, no cruelty in his eyes, no “rock star” – just a man. And she knew, there was no stopping it, her control just shattered and she whispered, almost to herself, “I want you again.”
“Mandy, I…” he began. “Shut up” she commanded. He shut up. She looked down for a second time, flicking his jeans front yet again with her eyes before staring at the floor. He noticed it then, a fine trembling of her skin, like a racehorse shudders before a run. He walked up to her and they were almost eye to eye except she would not meet his eyes. He took the coffee cup from her hand and set it on the counter. She let him take her hand and lead her from the kitchen to the stairs and upwards. Neither said a word.
The house was eerily quiet as if they were the only two people left alive. Jon led Amanda to the room he was using, closing and locking the door behind them. Amanda gave another shiver at the sound of the door being locked, but stood stock still as Jon approached her. Her eyes were firmly closed, her breathing heavy. She felt her breasts swell in anticipation of his touch and the ache grew into an overwhelming need.
He lightly touched the side of her face to try to get her to look at him. She shivered again, but opened her eyes. Dark chocolate met electric blue and locked. They held each others eyes as her hands reached for his chest, her fingers finding the hair there, soft, yet rough at the same time. She ran her fingers through the fur of his upper chest then her hand moved lower, trailing the line that led into the tight jeans.
She reached then to touch his lips with her fingers, but hovered over those inviting lips, trembling. Jon was so afraid to do the wrong thing with her, but he realized he needed to say something. “It’s okay baby…” he started to say, but she stopped him then with her hand to his lips.
“I’m not a child, Jon, I don’t need to be gentled”.
Her voice was as husky as he had heard it yet and now he was the one shivering. He reached out to her slowly but with a firm hand, brushing hair off her shoulders then sliding his arms down hers to the t-shirt edge. She raised her arms as pulled the shirt off, then closed her eyes, waiting for his touch. One roughened finger touched a nipple delicately and she instinctively leaned in for more. Jon gripped her breasts firmly with both hands, thumbs teasing the tips into firmer peaks. She leaned in to rub her breasts across the hair on his chest and his breathing stopped.
Amanda felt her excitement grow unbearably, but could not look at Jon while he touched her, not yet anyway. He, however, refused to allow this and raised one hand to her chin.
“Look at me” he demanded, “Mandy…look at me”.
She opened her eyes and allowed herself to trace his face from his hairline to his chin with her gaze. She kept her eyes open. Jon returned to her skin, leaning in to brush a whiskered face against her neck, her chin, her cheek and then he kissed her. An oh-so-delicate kiss that slowly deepened, slowly quickened, tongues mating, lips tasting, until they both realized that each of their hands were fisted in the other’s hair, holding one to the other with aching fingers.
Jon slowly broke the kiss but didn’t take his lips from her skin. His hand remained in her hair, holding her as he might hold a wild animal about to take flight. Amanda’s breathing was a shudder as his grip in her hair tightened. His other hand dropped to the sweat pants she was wearing and with a push of hand and a follow through with foot the pants hit the floor. She stepped out of them and he brushed them aside.
She reached for him again, touching the nipples that rested in the hair on his chest, teasing their peaks until his breath caught and the tips were taut. She leaned in, putting her face to his chest where the hairs tickled her nose and she breathed in a scent that was uniquely his.
Her hands moved lower, to the button of his jeans, a quick snap, a zip, another tug and a foot, and his jeans hit the floor. Her eyes, which had been locked on his, broke free of their hold and she looked. Truly looked at what awaited her.
It’s been so long, she thought, and then she stopped thinking…she reached. Her hands, warm and soft, caught at him and just held for a moment while her eyes returned to his face. She slowly moved her hands around the length of him and then further underneath to cup him fully. She gripped his firmness, feeling him swell at her touch until his breath was harsh and he had to move her hand away before she caused him to spill just from her touch alone.
Moistness had pooled intimately in her body and when Jon’s hand touched the soft flesh and softer hair she drenched his hand with her juices. He had to have her again, had to have her completely sober, completely in the light, completely willing. He played with her softness until she whimpered in her throat and he knew that she was close to the edge. He didn’t want her to come like this though, he had to be inside her to feel her orgasm.
He drew her to the edge of the bed and she sat slowly and, looking him straight in the eyes, she grinned in anticipation and lay back on the bed. Her grin caught him by surprise and for a moment tugged at his heart.
He lay beside her on the bed, touching every inch of her, feeling their toes intertwine while still meeting eye to eye. He grabbed her hair and rubbed it over his body. She used it to brand herself with his most intimate scent, wanting his sweat and fluids on her.
Jon could feel her shivering again and with a firm hand stroked her stomach and thighs, moving closer and closer. Her eyes started to close and he stopped until she opened them and looked at him again. Now his fingers attacked, performing with precision. He stroke the center of her pleasure then teased his fingers into the folds, again feeling the level of her arousal. He entered her with his fingers, feeling muscles clench, all the while holding her gaze. His eyes had turned to winter storm, while hers were dark rich chocolate.
He kept fingering her until her hips began to rise and her trembling changed to a quiver, then in one swift movement he reached over into a bedside table and removed a foil packet. Her eyes, still on his, had stolen down once again to look at what was coming, but quickly returned as the foil ripped. Her breath hitched in her chest as he prepared himself.
He returned to her, rubbing himself at her entry, over and over it with his length, until finally a whimper escaped her lips. With harsh ragged breathing and overwhelming longing, they looked deep into each other’s eyes, each seeking something from the other.
He had to speak before he entered her. He had to make her know he wasn’t a monster. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”, he started, “but I did”.
She shushed him. “Yes, you did, now heal me.”
With that she raised for him, forcing him to enter her a little with the angle, and with her permission he plunged deep, smacking up against her as she gave a scream of pure pleasure. Again and again he tasted her depths, her legs hitched around his ass, her hands running through the fur on his chest, tasting, licking, smelling his scent.
Jon was going wild, the orgasm that was building was filling him with a fire it seemed could not be quenched. Amanda felt the thick shaft of the man above her, filling every inch, forcing her up and up until his hands grabbed her hips and she came in a blinding flash of light and sensation, only dimly aware that Jon was now slowing, sweat thick on his skin as he fought for control, to draw this out for her, to make her come again. Beads of that sweat forced her to reach up and lick his skin where she could reach. He hissed at the contact, almost breaking his rhythm as he felt his own explosion building.
She felt emotionally drained after telling Richie what had really happened. Now she needed to tell herself. She had made love with another man. For the first time in 23 years she had given herself over to another man. That it was not her choice to start did not mean it had not been good sex. Okay, amazing sex. That it was Jon Bon Jovi didn’t really enter into it, even now, as in the night it had been a man, just a man.
She had married at 20 and been faithful her entire marriage. She had loved Jeremy so it was easy not to stray. But, looking at things in the cold, hard light of morning, she knew it had also been a hard year and she had missed the warmth of a man…her man, yes…but also the pulsing throbbing warmth of a man, deep inside, taking her over the edge and beyond.
So, she supposed she owed the jerk at least a semi-thank you for bringing her back to the land of the living. Shaking her head at the irony of the situation, she left the shower and started to get dried.
Jon was sitting in the kitchen shirtless in a pair of jeans, drinking another cup of coffee, when Amanda found the kitchen. She was following the smell of coffee and had closed her eyes briefly in anticipation, then opened them again to find the shocked blue eyes of Jon looking at her.
She paused, then marched determinately to the coffee pot and the rack of mugs hanging near by. “Is there any cream?” she asked without looking at him again.
“Uh, in the fridge, I think, I’ll get it.” He started to jump up.
She turned then and looked at him “Oh I think you’ve already given me quite enough. Tell me something though – did you use protection or were you too drunk to think about anything but fucking?”
He stopped dead at the ice in her tone, his guilt eating away at him like never before in his life.
“I used protection,” he answered softly, almost unable to meet her eyes.
She nodded jerkily then opened the fridge and got the cream. He truly had no clue what to say to her as there was no excuse for what he had done. Thinking about last night brought back the feel of her and he wished his dick would stay dead instead of rising to full attention when she bent over to get the cream from the bottom shelf. He sat down quickly, determined not to scare her. He had to talk to her. She stirred her coffee and bent to put the cream back again and again his dick jumped as if bit.
She kept her back to him for a few minutes and he took the opportunity to look at her from head to toe now that he was sober. She had improved from when he was drunk. She was tall, he noticed that first, probably close to his height, and lean, with well-rounded hips.
But that hair, Jesus, that fucking hair of hers. His balls started to ache when he realized he wanted that hair in his hands again, brushing against his body, until she again almost fucked them off the bed… ‘oh shit, she turned’ he thought he whispered to himself, until he realized she heard him and had seen him looking at her ass and her hair and…remembering.
In light of what had happened, Amanda had been determined to act as normally as she could. Jon staring at her ass though brought a flash of memories to her mind and a telltale flush to her skin. She didn’t have a bra on and her nipples sprang erect and to her disbelief she felt herself moisten. Her eyes closed briefly as the remembered sensation of his being inside brought heat and a tingle to her loins. She felt herself responding to the man sitting there.
She flushed deeper, blushed actually, and lowered her head. Jon once again thought his cock was going to explode if he did not have this woman. Richie and Tico had gone to try to find clothes in her size as hers were pretty much ready for the garbage can, even after washing. In fact, it was probably the multiple washings that did them in. They were alone.
Jon had to stand or he was going to strangle in his jeans. He stood and her eyes flashed open, but this time they did not meet his. Her gaze went unwillingly to the front of his pants, to the bulge he could not hide. An ache so deep she couldn’t breathe filled her most feminine parts and she started to tremble.
Her eyes then flicked up to his face and stayed locked there by the intensity of his gaze. There was no sneer on his lips, no cruelty in his eyes, no “rock star” – just a man. And she knew, there was no stopping it, her control just shattered and she whispered, almost to herself, “I want you again.”
“Mandy, I…” he began. “Shut up” she commanded. He shut up. She looked down for a second time, flicking his jeans front yet again with her eyes before staring at the floor. He noticed it then, a fine trembling of her skin, like a racehorse shudders before a run. He walked up to her and they were almost eye to eye except she would not meet his eyes. He took the coffee cup from her hand and set it on the counter. She let him take her hand and lead her from the kitchen to the stairs and upwards. Neither said a word.
The house was eerily quiet as if they were the only two people left alive. Jon led Amanda to the room he was using, closing and locking the door behind them. Amanda gave another shiver at the sound of the door being locked, but stood stock still as Jon approached her. Her eyes were firmly closed, her breathing heavy. She felt her breasts swell in anticipation of his touch and the ache grew into an overwhelming need.
He lightly touched the side of her face to try to get her to look at him. She shivered again, but opened her eyes. Dark chocolate met electric blue and locked. They held each others eyes as her hands reached for his chest, her fingers finding the hair there, soft, yet rough at the same time. She ran her fingers through the fur of his upper chest then her hand moved lower, trailing the line that led into the tight jeans.
She reached then to touch his lips with her fingers, but hovered over those inviting lips, trembling. Jon was so afraid to do the wrong thing with her, but he realized he needed to say something. “It’s okay baby…” he started to say, but she stopped him then with her hand to his lips.
“I’m not a child, Jon, I don’t need to be gentled”.
Her voice was as husky as he had heard it yet and now he was the one shivering. He reached out to her slowly but with a firm hand, brushing hair off her shoulders then sliding his arms down hers to the t-shirt edge. She raised her arms as pulled the shirt off, then closed her eyes, waiting for his touch. One roughened finger touched a nipple delicately and she instinctively leaned in for more. Jon gripped her breasts firmly with both hands, thumbs teasing the tips into firmer peaks. She leaned in to rub her breasts across the hair on his chest and his breathing stopped.
Amanda felt her excitement grow unbearably, but could not look at Jon while he touched her, not yet anyway. He, however, refused to allow this and raised one hand to her chin.
“Look at me” he demanded, “Mandy…look at me”.
She opened her eyes and allowed herself to trace his face from his hairline to his chin with her gaze. She kept her eyes open. Jon returned to her skin, leaning in to brush a whiskered face against her neck, her chin, her cheek and then he kissed her. An oh-so-delicate kiss that slowly deepened, slowly quickened, tongues mating, lips tasting, until they both realized that each of their hands were fisted in the other’s hair, holding one to the other with aching fingers.
Jon slowly broke the kiss but didn’t take his lips from her skin. His hand remained in her hair, holding her as he might hold a wild animal about to take flight. Amanda’s breathing was a shudder as his grip in her hair tightened. His other hand dropped to the sweat pants she was wearing and with a push of hand and a follow through with foot the pants hit the floor. She stepped out of them and he brushed them aside.
She reached for him again, touching the nipples that rested in the hair on his chest, teasing their peaks until his breath caught and the tips were taut. She leaned in, putting her face to his chest where the hairs tickled her nose and she breathed in a scent that was uniquely his.
Her hands moved lower, to the button of his jeans, a quick snap, a zip, another tug and a foot, and his jeans hit the floor. Her eyes, which had been locked on his, broke free of their hold and she looked. Truly looked at what awaited her.
It’s been so long, she thought, and then she stopped thinking…she reached. Her hands, warm and soft, caught at him and just held for a moment while her eyes returned to his face. She slowly moved her hands around the length of him and then further underneath to cup him fully. She gripped his firmness, feeling him swell at her touch until his breath was harsh and he had to move her hand away before she caused him to spill just from her touch alone.
Moistness had pooled intimately in her body and when Jon’s hand touched the soft flesh and softer hair she drenched his hand with her juices. He had to have her again, had to have her completely sober, completely in the light, completely willing. He played with her softness until she whimpered in her throat and he knew that she was close to the edge. He didn’t want her to come like this though, he had to be inside her to feel her orgasm.
He drew her to the edge of the bed and she sat slowly and, looking him straight in the eyes, she grinned in anticipation and lay back on the bed. Her grin caught him by surprise and for a moment tugged at his heart.
He lay beside her on the bed, touching every inch of her, feeling their toes intertwine while still meeting eye to eye. He grabbed her hair and rubbed it over his body. She used it to brand herself with his most intimate scent, wanting his sweat and fluids on her.
Jon could feel her shivering again and with a firm hand stroked her stomach and thighs, moving closer and closer. Her eyes started to close and he stopped until she opened them and looked at him again. Now his fingers attacked, performing with precision. He stroke the center of her pleasure then teased his fingers into the folds, again feeling the level of her arousal. He entered her with his fingers, feeling muscles clench, all the while holding her gaze. His eyes had turned to winter storm, while hers were dark rich chocolate.
He kept fingering her until her hips began to rise and her trembling changed to a quiver, then in one swift movement he reached over into a bedside table and removed a foil packet. Her eyes, still on his, had stolen down once again to look at what was coming, but quickly returned as the foil ripped. Her breath hitched in her chest as he prepared himself.
He returned to her, rubbing himself at her entry, over and over it with his length, until finally a whimper escaped her lips. With harsh ragged breathing and overwhelming longing, they looked deep into each other’s eyes, each seeking something from the other.
He had to speak before he entered her. He had to make her know he wasn’t a monster. “I didn’t mean to hurt you”, he started, “but I did”.
She shushed him. “Yes, you did, now heal me.”
With that she raised for him, forcing him to enter her a little with the angle, and with her permission he plunged deep, smacking up against her as she gave a scream of pure pleasure. Again and again he tasted her depths, her legs hitched around his ass, her hands running through the fur on his chest, tasting, licking, smelling his scent.
Jon was going wild, the orgasm that was building was filling him with a fire it seemed could not be quenched. Amanda felt the thick shaft of the man above her, filling every inch, forcing her up and up until his hands grabbed her hips and she came in a blinding flash of light and sensation, only dimly aware that Jon was now slowing, sweat thick on his skin as he fought for control, to draw this out for her, to make her come again. Beads of that sweat forced her to reach up and lick his skin where she could reach. He hissed at the contact, almost breaking his rhythm as he felt his own explosion building.
When her eyes locked on his again, he drew out to the end, then thrust over and over with the muscles of his ass and legs until once again she screamed and he flew over the edge, into a churning maelstrom of squeezing walls and fingernails ripping into his back. He fell over her, exhausted, and she shifted only a little to rest his weight more comfortably on her. Blue and brown eyes closed. They slept.
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John Francis - Chapter 4
at
6:52 AM
Amanda woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, shaking her hair from her eyes. Her head throbbed, but not too badly. She reached up, finding the bump and what seemed to be a cut. How the heck…? Then she remembered what happened at the café. She remembered a drunk Jon Bon Jovi, his comments, and her coconut tree rescue and figured that was when she hit her head.
She actually started to laugh a little as she thought, Geez, the guy was a jerk and then I go and have the most erotic dream I’ve ever had about him. She and her husband used to joke that Jon was her “free pass” in marriage and she would laugh and tell him, yeah, like THAT will ever happen!
Her thoughts had been so on her husband yesterday, missing him, missing making love, missing that warmth, that she figured her dream of Jon was simply coming from that and, well, from actually meeting the guy. She gave a brief chuckle again and started to get up and find out where she was and…why…she…was…naked? Why was she NAKED?!
She stopped in mid motion on the bed, sitting there with the sheets to her breasts, hair whipping back and forth as she looked around the room. “Ouch, dammit!” she yelled as the motion of swinging her head from side to side started it throbbing violently again.
“Darlin’ you don’t want to be doing that after the night you had” came a voice from the door.
She looked up to find the only other pair of eyes on the planet she would automatically recognize, those belonging to Richie Sambora.
Richie watched Amanda look at him, saw her eyes widen and knew she knew him now. He paused warily as she sucked in a huge lungful of air and then let it out in an amazing laugh. She was laughing so hard her body was shaking and intermixed were giggles and a low voice that was still loud enough for Richie to hear - “Now I know I’m still dreaming” - and then more laughter.
He looked at her and was completely baffled. This woman did not act like a victim…well, ok, she thought she was dreaming, but she seemed completely unhurt this morning. Surely she would remember if Jon had…well, shit he HAD, but before that, the possible attack?
He approached her slowly, bringing in a pair of his sweat pants and one of his shirts as she was rounder-hipped than Jon and bigger breasted than a medium shirt.
“Amanda, honey?” he questioned softly.
Her eyes were closed and she was shaking her head softly, still giggling a little. He stopped his approach and stood there waiting for her to settle. He didn’t hear a sound other than her giggles, however, she must have because suddenly her eyes opened, but instead of landing on him, they looked to his right. Jon had come in, he just couldn’t stay out when he heard those giggles. Those dark eyes of hers hit his like a laser and then she screamed!
“NOOOOOO! It was a DREAM! Don’t you understand? It can’t have been real, it can’t. Not yesterday, not that day, NO! NO! NO!” Her voice rose at the end and she started shaking, looking from one to the other and back again. Tears leaked from her dark eyes as she pierced Jon to the core. “You really are a jerk, you know that?”
Sobs started now and Jon, at a loss for words or actions, slipped from the room. Richie crossed to Amanda and took her in his arms. He couldn’t stand for her to be crying without some comfort, as meager as it was. She sobbed in his arms, talking between tears.
“Yester…yesterday…one year… husband died… can’t have made love… yesterday… can’t… won’t…” and the sobs started again.
Jon was still standing outside her door, more as a punishment to himself than anything, and heard every word. His gut tightened and tears slowly leaked from his eyes. Bits and pieces of what happened last night prior to his bedding her started to filter through his mind. Something about Make A Memory and how much it meant to her? Some of his response to that also percolated up and he grimaced again at what he had probably said to her…fuck, what he knew he had said to her.
He had been feeling so sorry for himself he had never stopped to consider something worse. At least Dot was alive, his kids were alive. Dot was not his anymore but she was alive. Mandy’s husband had died. One year ago yesterday, the same day as the true end of his marriage. God, he was such a shit! And why was he thinking of her as Mandy when he had hurt her so?
Richie helped Amanda calm down enough to get to the bottom of the entire story. She told him about the café, Jon, her compliments, his response, the coconut, and the fall. He was more relieved than he cared to admit that Jon had not attacked her in a parking lot when drunk, although he knew he had tried in the limo. Now he needed to find out about the bedroom.
“Amanda, honey, do you want to shower and get dressed and then have some coffee?” he asked softly.
She smiled at him weakly, “Want me to wash away the evidence, hmm?” and Richie winced.
She sighed, then spoke softly “He didn’t rape me, Richie, it might have started when I was asleep, but I was fully awake for the end.”
Jon, listening in the hallway, this time had tears falling from the relief of knowing he had not fallen that far down into hell.
Richie left her to clean up and dress, walking into the hallway to find Jon still standing there.
She actually started to laugh a little as she thought, Geez, the guy was a jerk and then I go and have the most erotic dream I’ve ever had about him. She and her husband used to joke that Jon was her “free pass” in marriage and she would laugh and tell him, yeah, like THAT will ever happen!
Her thoughts had been so on her husband yesterday, missing him, missing making love, missing that warmth, that she figured her dream of Jon was simply coming from that and, well, from actually meeting the guy. She gave a brief chuckle again and started to get up and find out where she was and…why…she…was…naked? Why was she NAKED?!
She stopped in mid motion on the bed, sitting there with the sheets to her breasts, hair whipping back and forth as she looked around the room. “Ouch, dammit!” she yelled as the motion of swinging her head from side to side started it throbbing violently again.
“Darlin’ you don’t want to be doing that after the night you had” came a voice from the door.
She looked up to find the only other pair of eyes on the planet she would automatically recognize, those belonging to Richie Sambora.
Richie watched Amanda look at him, saw her eyes widen and knew she knew him now. He paused warily as she sucked in a huge lungful of air and then let it out in an amazing laugh. She was laughing so hard her body was shaking and intermixed were giggles and a low voice that was still loud enough for Richie to hear - “Now I know I’m still dreaming” - and then more laughter.
He looked at her and was completely baffled. This woman did not act like a victim…well, ok, she thought she was dreaming, but she seemed completely unhurt this morning. Surely she would remember if Jon had…well, shit he HAD, but before that, the possible attack?
He approached her slowly, bringing in a pair of his sweat pants and one of his shirts as she was rounder-hipped than Jon and bigger breasted than a medium shirt.
“Amanda, honey?” he questioned softly.
Her eyes were closed and she was shaking her head softly, still giggling a little. He stopped his approach and stood there waiting for her to settle. He didn’t hear a sound other than her giggles, however, she must have because suddenly her eyes opened, but instead of landing on him, they looked to his right. Jon had come in, he just couldn’t stay out when he heard those giggles. Those dark eyes of hers hit his like a laser and then she screamed!
“NOOOOOO! It was a DREAM! Don’t you understand? It can’t have been real, it can’t. Not yesterday, not that day, NO! NO! NO!” Her voice rose at the end and she started shaking, looking from one to the other and back again. Tears leaked from her dark eyes as she pierced Jon to the core. “You really are a jerk, you know that?”
Sobs started now and Jon, at a loss for words or actions, slipped from the room. Richie crossed to Amanda and took her in his arms. He couldn’t stand for her to be crying without some comfort, as meager as it was. She sobbed in his arms, talking between tears.
“Yester…yesterday…one year… husband died… can’t have made love… yesterday… can’t… won’t…” and the sobs started again.
Jon was still standing outside her door, more as a punishment to himself than anything, and heard every word. His gut tightened and tears slowly leaked from his eyes. Bits and pieces of what happened last night prior to his bedding her started to filter through his mind. Something about Make A Memory and how much it meant to her? Some of his response to that also percolated up and he grimaced again at what he had probably said to her…fuck, what he knew he had said to her.
He had been feeling so sorry for himself he had never stopped to consider something worse. At least Dot was alive, his kids were alive. Dot was not his anymore but she was alive. Mandy’s husband had died. One year ago yesterday, the same day as the true end of his marriage. God, he was such a shit! And why was he thinking of her as Mandy when he had hurt her so?
Richie helped Amanda calm down enough to get to the bottom of the entire story. She told him about the café, Jon, her compliments, his response, the coconut, and the fall. He was more relieved than he cared to admit that Jon had not attacked her in a parking lot when drunk, although he knew he had tried in the limo. Now he needed to find out about the bedroom.
“Amanda, honey, do you want to shower and get dressed and then have some coffee?” he asked softly.
She smiled at him weakly, “Want me to wash away the evidence, hmm?” and Richie winced.
She sighed, then spoke softly “He didn’t rape me, Richie, it might have started when I was asleep, but I was fully awake for the end.”
Jon, listening in the hallway, this time had tears falling from the relief of knowing he had not fallen that far down into hell.
Richie left her to clean up and dress, walking into the hallway to find Jon still standing there.
“Whatcha gonna do about this, bro?” he asked softly, then walked downstairs.
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John Francis - Chapter 3
Sunday, April 13, 2008
at
8:06 PM
Jon awoke roughly two-and-a-half hours later, not long after Richie had awakened Amanda for the first check on her. He was still drink befuddled, but more sober since he had been sick to his stomach. He needed a bathroom. He stood, naked, and glanced around. Where the fuck am I?, he thought, then went in search of a bathroom. Two doors down he entered a room at whim as his need had become more urgent and quickly located a bathroom.
Thanking the porcelain gods, Jon stumbled to the toilet, immediately fell towards the wall, resting on it with one hand and praying for accuracy with the other. Opening one eye blearily, he wondered how much longer this was going to take as he started to sway, shifting his weight from side to side, caring less and less about the maid. Giving it a final shake, he finished victoriously feeling as if he deserved an “A” for effort.
When he turned to leave the bathroom, the light showed there was someone in the bed. Leaving the door cracked so there was a bit of light, he went over to the bed and looked down. A lot of dark very long hair was the first thing he noticed, then his practiced eye traveled down the figure barely covered by a bath towel. He had a vague memory of that hair and reached out to touch it. It was as lush as it looked and he ran a hand down its length. By the dim light of the bathroom he saw a small waist, curved hip, and long legs.
Unbidden, but not unexpectedly, his groin filled with blood and that brought a smile of lust to his face. Moving the towel he stared at heavy creamy breasts and his drink-addled logic censor just blew. He moved toward her, taking one of her breasts into his mouth as he curled his other hand in her hair.
Amanda was dreaming. An amazing dream. An “oh my god, don’t stop now” dream of a man, her husband, making love to her. Soft lips were at one of her breasts and a hand kneaded the other, causing her nipples to rise into hard peaks of need. Wetness had started between her legs and she unknowingly raised her hips to receive him, but fulfillment remained just out of reach.
Jon, sobering more by the moment, could not believe the response from this woman. She stirred enticingly under his hands, shuddering and raising her hips in anticipation. He needed a fucking rubber! He quickly returned to the bathroom as he had recognized Tico’s house once there was some light and searched in the drawers. “SHIT! There has to be one!” was his anguished hiss. Suddenly opening the right drawer, he found one. Tearing the foil open he slapped the condom on so fast he almost hurt himself as he was walking back to the bed as he was doing it.
He saw that she had turned onto her back, the towel now completely gone thanks to his work and her turn. Dark hair gleamed between her legs and her chest was flushed. He stared for a moment then turned to her again. Jesus she’s soft, he thought, licking around one nipple before taking it full into his mouth. She gave a little whimper and moved her legs again.
Taking a hand, he placed it into the soft folds at the top of her legs and gently stroked, sliding his hand over and over her most sensitive spot, dipping in two then three fingers and feeling her rise to meet his strokes. His need was so raw he felt the condom would burst if he did not take her now.
The thrust was what woke her. The unbelievable fullness she felt, the hard throbbing…she moaned, “oh my baby…yes…YES!”, her voice rising in a husky moan. Jon heard the sweet whiskey of her voice and felt a shudder run through him. He raised himself up onto his arms and looked at her. Her eyes were closed and tears were flowing. He almost stopped, but she wrapped her legs around his ass, thrusting herself against his hardness, and he lost his control.
Thrusting into her over and over again, holding her close now, he felt her breasts against his chest and her hands in his hair. He felt her tightening around him, movement a little slicker due to her wetness and in anticipation of what was coming. She moaned again and again and then exploded against him, the force of her orgasm nearly forcing them both off the bed. His strong arms held her hips down enough to continue to stroke inside her.
The force of the orgasm brought Amanda fully awake. She saw and felt the man above her now…longish hair? Furry chest? Really tight ass? What the fu…? she thought, thinking that NOW she was dreaming. The man pumping wildly into her, making her hips rise again and again almost of their own accord, was not her husband.
Her body refused to believe her still groggy mind, however, and almost against her will she felt the tension building, her breasts licked and sucked with an aching slowness that had them swelling against the touch. She felt the heavy cock inside her, felt the fullness as the man move again and again, more passionately now. Jon plunged wildly until she came again and this time he exploded inside her, pulling her hips up until he was rammed into her as tight as he could be, her walls pulling at every drop.
Ragged breathing was the only sound heard in the room as both tried to recover from the shock of their orgasms. Finally Amanda, moving slowly, reached out a hand and hit the base of a lamp that turned on at her touch. The sudden brightness of the light brought the man’s head up to look directly into her face. She found herself staring into the only blue eyes on the planet she would know anywhere.
She couldn’t move. She literally couldn’t move. Her mind could not comprehend how in the hell she could be in bed with Jon Bon Jovi. It was too unreal, too much, and she felt herself slipping away again into blackness.
“JON!!! What the fuck are you doing?” Richie screamed hoarsely as he opened the door. “She’s hurt, man, get OFF her!”
Jon disentangled himself from her, grabbing at the towel she had been in to cover himself. Richie entered the room, saw Amanda’s dishevelment, the flushed skin, the musk of sex, and knew he was too late. He reached for a cover and gently folded it around her. Turning, he grabbed Jon by the arm and pulled him from the room, not caring now about being gentle.
Sitting downstairs, an hour later, with several cups of coffee in him and having had some food, an almost fully sobered Jon Bon Jovi still wanted to cringe from what he had heard. It couldn’t be possible, could it? He had never hurt a woman in his life. He cringed at that too…ok, never PHYSICALLY hurt a woman. But Richie had explained what he had seen – Jon on top of an unconscious woman in a public parking lot, with the woman found to have a cut and bump on her head.
“What’s her name?” he asked Richie.
A hard scowl formed on Richie’s face. “You asshole! You don’t even know her name?”
Jon just shook his head back and forth.
“Amanda Matthews. Her driver’s license says she’s 44 and lives here in the area.” Richie looked at Jon scathingly, “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Don’t you get enough women? You gotta start attacking them in public for Christ’s sake?”
“Rich, man, come on, you’ve known me for years”, Jon pleaded, “I would never do that to a woman.”
“Jon, you did it again in the limo when I went into the drug store. She was on the floor and you were on top of her.”
Jon stared at his best friend in sheer disbelief, his voice hoarse as he spoke softly…”and then I saw her there and did it again…but this time I fucked her. Oh Christ!”
Tico walked into the thickened atmosphere in the kitchen, looking first at Richie and then at Jon. “I just checked on her again. She’s sleeping normally now it seems. She was able to wake up enough to tell me her name.” He looked hard at Jon. “What the fuck happened, man? Did you rape her?”
Thanking the porcelain gods, Jon stumbled to the toilet, immediately fell towards the wall, resting on it with one hand and praying for accuracy with the other. Opening one eye blearily, he wondered how much longer this was going to take as he started to sway, shifting his weight from side to side, caring less and less about the maid. Giving it a final shake, he finished victoriously feeling as if he deserved an “A” for effort.
When he turned to leave the bathroom, the light showed there was someone in the bed. Leaving the door cracked so there was a bit of light, he went over to the bed and looked down. A lot of dark very long hair was the first thing he noticed, then his practiced eye traveled down the figure barely covered by a bath towel. He had a vague memory of that hair and reached out to touch it. It was as lush as it looked and he ran a hand down its length. By the dim light of the bathroom he saw a small waist, curved hip, and long legs.
Unbidden, but not unexpectedly, his groin filled with blood and that brought a smile of lust to his face. Moving the towel he stared at heavy creamy breasts and his drink-addled logic censor just blew. He moved toward her, taking one of her breasts into his mouth as he curled his other hand in her hair.
Amanda was dreaming. An amazing dream. An “oh my god, don’t stop now” dream of a man, her husband, making love to her. Soft lips were at one of her breasts and a hand kneaded the other, causing her nipples to rise into hard peaks of need. Wetness had started between her legs and she unknowingly raised her hips to receive him, but fulfillment remained just out of reach.
Jon, sobering more by the moment, could not believe the response from this woman. She stirred enticingly under his hands, shuddering and raising her hips in anticipation. He needed a fucking rubber! He quickly returned to the bathroom as he had recognized Tico’s house once there was some light and searched in the drawers. “SHIT! There has to be one!” was his anguished hiss. Suddenly opening the right drawer, he found one. Tearing the foil open he slapped the condom on so fast he almost hurt himself as he was walking back to the bed as he was doing it.
He saw that she had turned onto her back, the towel now completely gone thanks to his work and her turn. Dark hair gleamed between her legs and her chest was flushed. He stared for a moment then turned to her again. Jesus she’s soft, he thought, licking around one nipple before taking it full into his mouth. She gave a little whimper and moved her legs again.
Taking a hand, he placed it into the soft folds at the top of her legs and gently stroked, sliding his hand over and over her most sensitive spot, dipping in two then three fingers and feeling her rise to meet his strokes. His need was so raw he felt the condom would burst if he did not take her now.
The thrust was what woke her. The unbelievable fullness she felt, the hard throbbing…she moaned, “oh my baby…yes…YES!”, her voice rising in a husky moan. Jon heard the sweet whiskey of her voice and felt a shudder run through him. He raised himself up onto his arms and looked at her. Her eyes were closed and tears were flowing. He almost stopped, but she wrapped her legs around his ass, thrusting herself against his hardness, and he lost his control.
Thrusting into her over and over again, holding her close now, he felt her breasts against his chest and her hands in his hair. He felt her tightening around him, movement a little slicker due to her wetness and in anticipation of what was coming. She moaned again and again and then exploded against him, the force of her orgasm nearly forcing them both off the bed. His strong arms held her hips down enough to continue to stroke inside her.
The force of the orgasm brought Amanda fully awake. She saw and felt the man above her now…longish hair? Furry chest? Really tight ass? What the fu…? she thought, thinking that NOW she was dreaming. The man pumping wildly into her, making her hips rise again and again almost of their own accord, was not her husband.
Her body refused to believe her still groggy mind, however, and almost against her will she felt the tension building, her breasts licked and sucked with an aching slowness that had them swelling against the touch. She felt the heavy cock inside her, felt the fullness as the man move again and again, more passionately now. Jon plunged wildly until she came again and this time he exploded inside her, pulling her hips up until he was rammed into her as tight as he could be, her walls pulling at every drop.
Ragged breathing was the only sound heard in the room as both tried to recover from the shock of their orgasms. Finally Amanda, moving slowly, reached out a hand and hit the base of a lamp that turned on at her touch. The sudden brightness of the light brought the man’s head up to look directly into her face. She found herself staring into the only blue eyes on the planet she would know anywhere.
She couldn’t move. She literally couldn’t move. Her mind could not comprehend how in the hell she could be in bed with Jon Bon Jovi. It was too unreal, too much, and she felt herself slipping away again into blackness.
“JON!!! What the fuck are you doing?” Richie screamed hoarsely as he opened the door. “She’s hurt, man, get OFF her!”
Jon disentangled himself from her, grabbing at the towel she had been in to cover himself. Richie entered the room, saw Amanda’s dishevelment, the flushed skin, the musk of sex, and knew he was too late. He reached for a cover and gently folded it around her. Turning, he grabbed Jon by the arm and pulled him from the room, not caring now about being gentle.
Sitting downstairs, an hour later, with several cups of coffee in him and having had some food, an almost fully sobered Jon Bon Jovi still wanted to cringe from what he had heard. It couldn’t be possible, could it? He had never hurt a woman in his life. He cringed at that too…ok, never PHYSICALLY hurt a woman. But Richie had explained what he had seen – Jon on top of an unconscious woman in a public parking lot, with the woman found to have a cut and bump on her head.
“What’s her name?” he asked Richie.
A hard scowl formed on Richie’s face. “You asshole! You don’t even know her name?”
Jon just shook his head back and forth.
“Amanda Matthews. Her driver’s license says she’s 44 and lives here in the area.” Richie looked at Jon scathingly, “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Don’t you get enough women? You gotta start attacking them in public for Christ’s sake?”
“Rich, man, come on, you’ve known me for years”, Jon pleaded, “I would never do that to a woman.”
“Jon, you did it again in the limo when I went into the drug store. She was on the floor and you were on top of her.”
Jon stared at his best friend in sheer disbelief, his voice hoarse as he spoke softly…”and then I saw her there and did it again…but this time I fucked her. Oh Christ!”
Tico walked into the thickened atmosphere in the kitchen, looking first at Richie and then at Jon. “I just checked on her again. She’s sleeping normally now it seems. She was able to wake up enough to tell me her name.” He looked hard at Jon. “What the fuck happened, man? Did you rape her?”
“NO!” Jon shouted, “I swear to you she responded completely when I touched her. Christ, she almost fucked me off the bed!” He cringed again at how that sounded, looked at his two friends, then hung his head. “I need … I need … help.”
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John Francis - Chapter 2
at
8:00 PM
A black limo started to pull into the parking lot of the café where Richie knew Jon would be, Jon having called before the second bottle of wine. The headlights lit upon the two figures on the ground and Richie screamed “Stop!” to the driver. The back door flew open and in three strides Richie was standing over the two, not knowing whether to grin or throw his hands up into the air. Within two seconds, however, he knew something was wrong. Neither figure was moving.
“Shiiittt, bro’, what the fuck did you do?” he breathed out. The limo driver appeared at Richie’s side and helped lift Jon off the woman underneath him. Richie laughed softly when he realized that even passed out drunk Jon had managed to find a soft place to land. The two men carried Jon to the back of the limo and put him on a seat. They returned to the woman. Richie stood with his hands on his hips and then by the light of a flashlight the driver had on a key chain, he looked at the woman on the ground.
Immediately he saw a mass of dark honeyed hair, lush breasts, a trim waist, and womanly hips. He also realized that this was not Jon’s usual type lately as even lying down, he could see she was tall, maybe as tall as Jon. She also was not as young as Jon’s tastes seemed to be running since the divorce. He pretty much avoided anyone who reminded him of Dorothea.
Richie lightly stroked her cheek, trying to wake her up. No response. “Shit, Steve, we can’t just leave her here,” he motioned helplessly. The driver nodded in agreement and they both picked her up carefully as she was completely out and got her onto another seat in the back of the limo, with her head resting on Richie’s lap. “Take us back to Tico’s,” Richie advised. The car slowly pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards Tico’s Palm Beach home.
A few moments later, Richie had the uncomfortable sensation of wetness on his pant leg. Not understanding the source, he turned on an inside light and touched the area. Dark red blood stained his fingertips. “Holy shit!” he screamed out, hitting the intercom, “Steve, stop at a damn drug store.” He wiped his fingers off and gently touched the woman’s neck to make sure she was still alive, even though he knew she was. It was just the blood had shocked him that badly.
Leaving Jon and the woman in the limo, Richie rushed into the drug store. In the back of the limo, Jon was groggily getting up from the seat. He felt a twinge in his back, the pain of which caused his eyes to clear for a moment, and he saw a figure lying on the opposite seat. A boozy grin curled his lips and he leaned over.
Amanda was just starting to stir after having been knocked unconscious in the fall. Groggy herself, her eyes not even open, she felt her legs being grabbed and her body turned. Strong hands and arms roughly pulled her into a sitting position as she tried to focus through half-slitted eyes. She heard a man say “come on then, baby, let’s fuck” and suddenly she was on the floor of the limo. Her knee came up automatically and struck a very drunk Jon right in the stomach. Before Amanda blacked out again, she heard and felt the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up …right on top of her.
Richie completed his purchases of peroxide, antiseptic, and bandages and returned to the car as quickly as he could. Throwing open the door, he expected to find the two inside exactly as he had left them. Hell, it was only five minutes ago. Instead, he saw the woman on the floor, Jon again passed out over her, and the smell of regurgitated wine.
“Oh fuck me sideways!” he cursed, standing nonplussed outside the car, wondering what the hell to do now. Getting inside, as rank as it was, was pretty unappealing, but he really had to get this out of the public eye. Rolling down all the windows before he got inside, he gingerly entered, leaving them both on the floor. He was gonna need some help!
Cell phones are a gift from the gods, Richie thought as he called Tico and gave him a quick rundown on what was coming to his house. Tico, a pretty even-tempered guy, was already pissed at Jon for his black moods and was not thrilled, however, this was Jon. “Ok, man, just get ‘em here, we’ll deal,” he sighed heavily, then broke into a deep chuckle said, “glad I don’t own that limo.” “No shit,” Richie laughed, breathing shallowly.
Within five minutes, the limo pulled into Tico’s gated drive and arrived at the house where the exasperated owner was waiting outside. Richie quickly exited the car, gasping deep breaths of clean air. Tico looked inside, grimaced at the smell, but then started laughing. “Damn, even drunk Jon knows how to fall.” Richie, realizing that he had not told Tico how he had found Jon, repeated that story. Tico laughed harder. Richie just groaned, “Come on man, help me out here.”
The men, including the driver, lifted Jon off the woman and carried him into the house to one of the upstairs bathrooms. Laying him on the floor, they quickly returned to the car. Tico helped Richie get the woman out, but after getting her in a better position, Richie nodded, “I got her, lead on.” They took her to another bathroom on the second floor.
Richie, hands on his hips, looked at the woman, looked at Tico, and smirked, “yeah, ok, you go take care of Jon.” Tico, also getting a better look at the woman, grinned, “sure, bro’, leave me with the real pussy!”
Richie started the shower, figuring that was the best way to get her cleaned up so he could check her head wound. He thought the second trip to the floor of the limo probably didn’t help her any, but other than being pale and still unconscious, she appeared to be alright.
Stripping to his underwear, he quickly removed her clothing, having to strip her bare as the vomit had soaked through. He stood her up, supporting her weight fully, and lifted her into the shower with him. He let the water hit her hair and was startled at the blood that colored the floor of the shower. She stirred in his arms, suddenly standing on her own. Her eyes were closed from the water, but Richie heard her murmur softly “Jeremy?”
Not knowing who Jeremy was and not wanting to upset her he just made an “um hum” sound and carefully feeling his way through the mass of her hair, he felt a small laceration and a large bump.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed softly, hoping to get her out of the shower quickly. He shampooed her hair and soaped her off, and tried very hard to keep his mind on her injury instead of her lush figure. He was only mildly successful, however, and by the time he had her out of the shower and dried off, he had a real hard on going. Shit! Stop it, you asshole, he chided himself, chuckling. Christ! I need to get laid! He really missed his current girlfriend and vowed to make Jon pay for this in some way!
Amanda had submitted to Richie’s ministrations in the shower and was able to comply with his instructions to stand while she was dried off and to walk over to the bed when he guided her to it. Richie left her to sit on the bed while he gathered the medical supplies he needed. In that few minutes Amanda had started to doze off from the effects of the bump and the warm shower.
She felt a burning sensation in her head brought her back a little further from where she had been. Gentle hands were in her hair and a soothing voice spoke, “it’s ok, honey, you fell. Let me clean your cut.”
Hanging her head in response to the pain, she couldn’t see who was speaking. “Who are you?” she asked in a husky voice. Her voice startled Richie as it sounded like whiskey and smoke.
“Richie, babe, just relax.”
“What happened and where am I?” Amanda asked, slowly coming more to her senses.
“At my friend’s house and we’re gonna take care of you. Listen, you have to stay the night. You may have a concussion and you need looked after. Is there anybody you need me to call?”
Amanda gave a deep sigh and answered in a small voice, “No, no one.”
Tico had less fun cleaning Jon up than Richie did with Amanda and after getting him reasonably dry and at least partway sobered from the shower, he threw Jon into a bed in another room and left with a “sleep it off, asshole” thrown out as he was leaving.
The room was too dark with her hair over her face for Amanda to see who was speaking to her. She heard the voice say, “I need to shine a light to check your pupils, babe, so get ready.” Her hair was moved and the brief flash of light allowed Richie to see that her pupils were even, but quickly made Amanda shut her eyes before she got a look at the man helping her.
Her head throbbed and she asked in her honey-smoke voice “Can I have some Tylenol?”
“Sure, hon, hang on. Be right back.” The light was turned off and footsteps could be heard leaving the room. Amanda was not sure what had happened or where she was, but she appeared to be safe and that was all her pounding head could handle right now. She was not even aware that all she wore was a towel.
Richie returned quickly with the pain medication, but left the light off. “Here ya go, sweetie” and handed her the pills.
She gratefully took the pills, swallowed, and then slumped a little. “I need to rest.”
“Lie back, you’re on a bed” came the male voice. “The only other thing I remember about possible concussions is that you need to be woken up every few hours, so if you fall asleep, you’ll be hearing from me again soon”, he chuckled.
She carefully laid down on the pillow and gave a soft sleepy sigh. “No problem, thanks for keeping an eye on me. You have a good bedside manner for a doctor.”
Richie was startled and started to correct her, but not knowing her personality he was afraid she might start screaming the house down if she knew she was not under real medical supervision. “See you soon, ma’am. By the way, what’s your first name?” He heard “Amanda” as he quietly left the room.
Amanda rolled on her side, away from the sore spot on her head, and relaxed. She quickly drifted off into a lighter, more normal sleep, still waiting for the pills to take effect.
“Shiiittt, bro’, what the fuck did you do?” he breathed out. The limo driver appeared at Richie’s side and helped lift Jon off the woman underneath him. Richie laughed softly when he realized that even passed out drunk Jon had managed to find a soft place to land. The two men carried Jon to the back of the limo and put him on a seat. They returned to the woman. Richie stood with his hands on his hips and then by the light of a flashlight the driver had on a key chain, he looked at the woman on the ground.
Immediately he saw a mass of dark honeyed hair, lush breasts, a trim waist, and womanly hips. He also realized that this was not Jon’s usual type lately as even lying down, he could see she was tall, maybe as tall as Jon. She also was not as young as Jon’s tastes seemed to be running since the divorce. He pretty much avoided anyone who reminded him of Dorothea.
Richie lightly stroked her cheek, trying to wake her up. No response. “Shit, Steve, we can’t just leave her here,” he motioned helplessly. The driver nodded in agreement and they both picked her up carefully as she was completely out and got her onto another seat in the back of the limo, with her head resting on Richie’s lap. “Take us back to Tico’s,” Richie advised. The car slowly pulled out of the parking lot and headed towards Tico’s Palm Beach home.
A few moments later, Richie had the uncomfortable sensation of wetness on his pant leg. Not understanding the source, he turned on an inside light and touched the area. Dark red blood stained his fingertips. “Holy shit!” he screamed out, hitting the intercom, “Steve, stop at a damn drug store.” He wiped his fingers off and gently touched the woman’s neck to make sure she was still alive, even though he knew she was. It was just the blood had shocked him that badly.
Leaving Jon and the woman in the limo, Richie rushed into the drug store. In the back of the limo, Jon was groggily getting up from the seat. He felt a twinge in his back, the pain of which caused his eyes to clear for a moment, and he saw a figure lying on the opposite seat. A boozy grin curled his lips and he leaned over.
Amanda was just starting to stir after having been knocked unconscious in the fall. Groggy herself, her eyes not even open, she felt her legs being grabbed and her body turned. Strong hands and arms roughly pulled her into a sitting position as she tried to focus through half-slitted eyes. She heard a man say “come on then, baby, let’s fuck” and suddenly she was on the floor of the limo. Her knee came up automatically and struck a very drunk Jon right in the stomach. Before Amanda blacked out again, she heard and felt the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up …right on top of her.
Richie completed his purchases of peroxide, antiseptic, and bandages and returned to the car as quickly as he could. Throwing open the door, he expected to find the two inside exactly as he had left them. Hell, it was only five minutes ago. Instead, he saw the woman on the floor, Jon again passed out over her, and the smell of regurgitated wine.
“Oh fuck me sideways!” he cursed, standing nonplussed outside the car, wondering what the hell to do now. Getting inside, as rank as it was, was pretty unappealing, but he really had to get this out of the public eye. Rolling down all the windows before he got inside, he gingerly entered, leaving them both on the floor. He was gonna need some help!
Cell phones are a gift from the gods, Richie thought as he called Tico and gave him a quick rundown on what was coming to his house. Tico, a pretty even-tempered guy, was already pissed at Jon for his black moods and was not thrilled, however, this was Jon. “Ok, man, just get ‘em here, we’ll deal,” he sighed heavily, then broke into a deep chuckle said, “glad I don’t own that limo.” “No shit,” Richie laughed, breathing shallowly.
Within five minutes, the limo pulled into Tico’s gated drive and arrived at the house where the exasperated owner was waiting outside. Richie quickly exited the car, gasping deep breaths of clean air. Tico looked inside, grimaced at the smell, but then started laughing. “Damn, even drunk Jon knows how to fall.” Richie, realizing that he had not told Tico how he had found Jon, repeated that story. Tico laughed harder. Richie just groaned, “Come on man, help me out here.”
The men, including the driver, lifted Jon off the woman and carried him into the house to one of the upstairs bathrooms. Laying him on the floor, they quickly returned to the car. Tico helped Richie get the woman out, but after getting her in a better position, Richie nodded, “I got her, lead on.” They took her to another bathroom on the second floor.
Richie, hands on his hips, looked at the woman, looked at Tico, and smirked, “yeah, ok, you go take care of Jon.” Tico, also getting a better look at the woman, grinned, “sure, bro’, leave me with the real pussy!”
Richie started the shower, figuring that was the best way to get her cleaned up so he could check her head wound. He thought the second trip to the floor of the limo probably didn’t help her any, but other than being pale and still unconscious, she appeared to be alright.
Stripping to his underwear, he quickly removed her clothing, having to strip her bare as the vomit had soaked through. He stood her up, supporting her weight fully, and lifted her into the shower with him. He let the water hit her hair and was startled at the blood that colored the floor of the shower. She stirred in his arms, suddenly standing on her own. Her eyes were closed from the water, but Richie heard her murmur softly “Jeremy?”
Not knowing who Jeremy was and not wanting to upset her he just made an “um hum” sound and carefully feeling his way through the mass of her hair, he felt a small laceration and a large bump.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed softly, hoping to get her out of the shower quickly. He shampooed her hair and soaped her off, and tried very hard to keep his mind on her injury instead of her lush figure. He was only mildly successful, however, and by the time he had her out of the shower and dried off, he had a real hard on going. Shit! Stop it, you asshole, he chided himself, chuckling. Christ! I need to get laid! He really missed his current girlfriend and vowed to make Jon pay for this in some way!
Amanda had submitted to Richie’s ministrations in the shower and was able to comply with his instructions to stand while she was dried off and to walk over to the bed when he guided her to it. Richie left her to sit on the bed while he gathered the medical supplies he needed. In that few minutes Amanda had started to doze off from the effects of the bump and the warm shower.
She felt a burning sensation in her head brought her back a little further from where she had been. Gentle hands were in her hair and a soothing voice spoke, “it’s ok, honey, you fell. Let me clean your cut.”
Hanging her head in response to the pain, she couldn’t see who was speaking. “Who are you?” she asked in a husky voice. Her voice startled Richie as it sounded like whiskey and smoke.
“Richie, babe, just relax.”
“What happened and where am I?” Amanda asked, slowly coming more to her senses.
“At my friend’s house and we’re gonna take care of you. Listen, you have to stay the night. You may have a concussion and you need looked after. Is there anybody you need me to call?”
Amanda gave a deep sigh and answered in a small voice, “No, no one.”
Tico had less fun cleaning Jon up than Richie did with Amanda and after getting him reasonably dry and at least partway sobered from the shower, he threw Jon into a bed in another room and left with a “sleep it off, asshole” thrown out as he was leaving.
The room was too dark with her hair over her face for Amanda to see who was speaking to her. She heard the voice say, “I need to shine a light to check your pupils, babe, so get ready.” Her hair was moved and the brief flash of light allowed Richie to see that her pupils were even, but quickly made Amanda shut her eyes before she got a look at the man helping her.
Her head throbbed and she asked in her honey-smoke voice “Can I have some Tylenol?”
“Sure, hon, hang on. Be right back.” The light was turned off and footsteps could be heard leaving the room. Amanda was not sure what had happened or where she was, but she appeared to be safe and that was all her pounding head could handle right now. She was not even aware that all she wore was a towel.
Richie returned quickly with the pain medication, but left the light off. “Here ya go, sweetie” and handed her the pills.
She gratefully took the pills, swallowed, and then slumped a little. “I need to rest.”
“Lie back, you’re on a bed” came the male voice. “The only other thing I remember about possible concussions is that you need to be woken up every few hours, so if you fall asleep, you’ll be hearing from me again soon”, he chuckled.
She carefully laid down on the pillow and gave a soft sleepy sigh. “No problem, thanks for keeping an eye on me. You have a good bedside manner for a doctor.”
Richie was startled and started to correct her, but not knowing her personality he was afraid she might start screaming the house down if she knew she was not under real medical supervision. “See you soon, ma’am. By the way, what’s your first name?” He heard “Amanda” as he quietly left the room.
Amanda rolled on her side, away from the sore spot on her head, and relaxed. She quickly drifted off into a lighter, more normal sleep, still waiting for the pills to take effect.
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John Francis - Chapter 1
at
11:55 AM
Amanda walked down the lightly shaded street, enjoying the beauty of the night as twilight fell. It was a Friday in early December and the ever-constant Florida sun was lessening its grip just a little. The air was less humid and with the cool breeze and evening shadows the walk was just a delight. Sniffing the air and having lived here her entire life, Amanda could tell there would be rain soon. She decided to sit outside at a covered café, have a glass of wine, and enjoy the evening as much as possible.
There were few patrons at the café and she had an outside table to herself…no, there was another person, a man dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, with a baseball cap and sunglasses. A bottle of wine was on the table in front of him and as she placed her order and waited for her glass, her gaze had drifted enough to see he was pounding back the wine pretty heavily. She hoped he wouldn’t try to drive afterwards as Palm Beach cops were notorious for their “no excuses” rule, except of course when it came to the rich and famous. This guy looked like a regular working stiff and she silently wished him well. Her wine arrived and she sipped slowly, enjoying the growing breeze.
Jon Bon Jovi sat at his table at the café, deeply lost in his thoughts. He steadily poured glass after glass out of the bottle and thinking of how the hell he had come to where he was now. The Lost Highway tour was over for the most part and had been an amazing success. Funny how good at acting he had become over the years. Not long after Romeo’s birth in 2004, Dot has told him that she was in love with someone else. They tried to work things out, but late in April 2007, even before starting the tour, Dot had told him that she could not take this life anymore. She loved him and would always love him, but she was no longer in love with him. She wanted to move on. Jon had gone on the entire tour knowing that his life was falling apart, but he had managed to pull it off.
The guys, however, especially Richie, could see that he was slowly coming apart at the seams. Hell, truth be told he was rapidly dissolving into a “rock star” prick, demanding, unforgiving, and careless of the feelings of others. Tico and his wife Maria had a place on Palm Beach and Richie and he had practically kidnapped Jon to get him down to there for a few weeks of rest. And, hopefully, to try to talk some sense into him before he lost or damaged what he had worked his whole life for. Maria and Tico’s son, Hector, were out of town for several days visiting her relatives.
Ordering a second glass of wine, Amanda could see that the guy at the other table had ordered another bottle. She felt a small flicker of fear… He’s drinking too much. She resolved to keep a close eye on this guy to see how he planned on getting home.
Jon felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the effects of the wine. Why the fuck not?, he thought, one fucking year divorced today. A limo had dropped him off earlier in the day after Richie and Tico, tired of his black moods and blacker temper, kicked him out of the house for a few hours. They also knew what today was, but Jon had been in such a mood that after getting his promise that he would just take a walk and not try to fly out anywhere, they arranged for him to be dropped off on the main street as the driver was only a cell phone call away.
Sitting, brooding, he thought to himself that he would never have believed he would be almost 47 years old and alone. Christ, he had been with Dot almost continuously since age 17. He felt like a part of him was drowning and he just couldn’t make himself call out for help. Darker and darker thoughts continued to swirl inside his head.
Having paid her bill and requesting ice water, Amanda continued to watch the stranger on the patio. She knew he was paying no attention to her and so she watched while she allowed her own thoughts to drift. One year today, she thought. She felt her breath begin to hitch, but stopped short. She would not cry today. Today she would think about what her life had meant until one year ago. Today she would remember.
One year ago, December 6, 2007, she was in the kitchen of her home, humming along with a compilation CD of some of her favorite groups, The Eagles, Aerosmith, and Bon Jovi, with of course a few Doors songs thrown in as a nod to her husband. She was preparing dinner, singing along off key, shaking her tush during a good groove, and generally enjoying her life. Dimly she heard her cell phone ring and hastily finishing taking a meatloaf out of the oven, she ran to grab the phone. Thirty seconds later her life as she knew it was over.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Matthews?” a male voice asked.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Matthews” she had replied.
“This is Officer Johnson of the West Palm Beach Police Department.”
Amanda had a quizzical look on her face as she replied, “Yes, Officer, what can I do for you.” As she and her husband owned a business together in the city of West Palm, she starting assuming there had been a problem at the shop.
“Mrs. Matthews, I’m truly sorry to be calling you with this information, but there has been an accident.”
“Who? My mother? Jeremy? Who was…”, her voice sputtered to a stop.
“I’m afraid it’s your husband, ma’am. A drunk driver flipped on I-95, he hit your husband’s car, and…I’m sorry, Ma’am, it was immediately fatal.”
Amanda’s brain had stopped functioning the split second the word ‘husband’ was out of the officer’s mouth and as she felt blackness stealing over her, the last words penetrating her consciousness were “…immediately fatal.”
In truth, she had no idea how she had gotten through the next few weeks of her old life. She actually had parts she couldn’t remember. There were nights of crying so hard she was sick and others of lying on her husbands’ side of the bed just to breath his scent. They had made love the night before the accident and, telling no one, she had taken those sheets, sealed them in plastic, and shoved them under the bed. The first night of new sheets she slept on the couch.
She had sold the business for a substantial sum. A few weeks after Jeremy’s death, their life insurance company had told her that Jeremy had an astoundingly large policy with some kind of double payment for accidental death, which after taxes had left her, both from the sale of the business and the insurance, with close to $5 million dollars. Never having been rich in her life and without her husband, the money meant nothing to her. After finding herself spending days at a time in bed, she dragged herself up and threw herself into getting back into at least physical health, if not some semblance of mental health.
Now, one year later and twenty pounds lighter, she stood at the peak of her own personal beauty. She had always been a pretty woman and time was treating her well. Her glorious hair, mahogany and sunset, fell down her back to the brush the top of her buttocks. Her hair had always been long (as Jeremy liked it, she thought) and it had grown longer in the year since his death.
She had turned 44 a few months ago, but with her height of 5’8”, her toned, trim body, full breasts, and that hair, men still stopped with drinks halfway to their mouth when she entered a room. She, however, only realized that she felt better now that she was moving again and never noticed the stares.
The threatened rain finally began as night fully closed in. The patio was covered enough to protect the two occupants, however, and since it was a true Florida rain, it fell in fat, heavy drops almost straight down. Jon dimly noticed the start of the rain, but the residual splashes from the awning above made him focus a little more. “Shit, gotta move,” he mumbled out loud, picking up his wine bottle and glass and weaving a little he walked further under the canopy. He still had not noticed the other occupant of the café and, trying to focus a little better, finally sat at a table right next to Amanda, falling a little heavily into the chair.
The man’s jolting collapse into the chair had startled Amanda out of her distant thoughts. She realized he had moved to a table closer to her and, seeing the rain hit his previous chair, she let her eyes drift back over to him. He was about three feet away, facing her, and had finally taken off his dark sunglasses. The lights from under the awning, although not bright, could not hide the blue of those eyes. Amanda stopped breathing for just a moment. She knew those eyes…hell, she was a child of the 80’s…those eyes were unmistakable. She found herself staring into the bluer than blue eyes of Jon Bon Jovi.
Jon had finally noticed there was someone else out on the patio besides him. As he took another sip of his wine, he saw a woman with very long dark hair. Trying to focus on her face, he saw dark eyes, high cheekbones, and full pink lips. His eyes traveled down to see breasts with a deep V peeking above a light pink shirt. A crooked grin wavered across his lips and he raised his glass to her.
Finally sucking in a large breath, Amanda realized he was raising a glass to her. She had seen his eyes travel to her breasts, but thought nothing of it. Men were men. She smiled back at Jon and raised her still nearly full glass of wine in response. His eyes drifted from her as he was unable at this point to sustain his blurry vision for long. Since he was alone, Amanda took several deep breaths and murmured to herself, ‘you said you would do it’. She stood up, leaving her bag on the chair, and walked the few steps to Jon.
Jon had dropped his eyes to his boots after his impromptu toast and saw sandals and painted toenails a few inches from his own feet. Slowly raising his eyes, he saw the dark haired woman.
“Mr. Bongiovi…” she began, “I always told myself that if I ever met you, I would tell you how much I loved Lost Highway and especially “You Want To Make A Memory”. She continued a little uncertainly as an almost sneer had started to twist his mouth. “That album and especially that song…well, let’s just say it got me through some really tough times.”
The almost sneer on Jon’s face hardened… “every fucking where I go” he muttered. “Lady, am I on a fucking stage? I don’t think so.” He was slurring so heavily she almost couldn’t get all his words, but the venom was unmistakable. “So,” he continued in an icy tone, “I would appreciate it if you’d get the fuck outta my face.”
So startled was Amanda by his response that her natural instinct was to lash out herself. “Fuck you” she hissed in a whisper. She backed away and returned to her table. Tears of anger filled her eyes as she turned her chair so her back was mostly toward him. She wanted so badly to leave, but she would NOT leave until she saw he wasn’t driving.
Finishing one more glass of wine, Jon signaled the waiter to pay his bill. Already forgetting his outburst of a few minutes ago, he got unsteadily to his feet and started to walk to the back of the building where there was a parking lot. Amanda got to her feet, grabbed her bag, and followed him as surreptitiously as she could. She did not want to get on the receiving end of another of his verbal rants, but she just couldn’t let him get behind the wheel of a car.
The street was so quiet now, the rain having ended only moments ago, and traffic not yet resumed from the downpour. Following quietly and getting closer as she saw how much trouble Jon was having walking, she saw him suddenly trip, turn, and slam backwards into a coconut palm tree. He just stood there a second, stunned. She herself had a split second to act as only the palm branches themselves and the quiet of the night allowed her to hear the falling coconut. She gave one huge push of her thighs and tackled Jon, turning so he wouldn’t take the fall. She had a brief flash of the headline “JON BON JOVI: DEATH BY COCONUT” before the back of her head struck the edge of a low dividing wall and she was knocked out.
Jon, badly jolted by Amanda’s tackle, got his legs tangled up in hers and fell right on top of her. His wine-soaked brain had just enough left to process that his face was firmly planted almost dead center into a pair of heavy breasts, and, moving his mouth deeper and to the center, he promptly passed out…which is exactly where Richie found them both three minutes later.
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