8 - Hallelujah

Sandy bid them farewell with the assurance that someone would be along shortly, leaving Delaney torn between mortification and fury.  At least now she knew what had been going on while she was busy selling flowers to Jon’s son – Petra was working the angles and undermining the non-butt-kissing precedent Delaney had purposely set. 

If she’d wanted to be just another horny, star struck woman in a sea of millions, she could’ve done that in the space of a floral delivery.   Being a real person instead of a plastic stereotype was what had brought him into the shop – giving her sister a chance to portray them as vulturous elbow-rubbers. 

Son of a motherless goat! 

The whole time she’d been getting ready this afternoon, it was with the thought of him seeking her out during the show.  It had given her a little thrill thinking that she kind of knew him now and that he’d probably be looking for her.  Maybe she’d even entertained the notion that they would exchange a secret smile that the rest of the crowd wouldn’t quite catch, or he’d offer a covert signal when it was time for “her” song. 

Now, though, it would be a miracle if he even pointed a superficial smile in her direction. 

“What the freep?!  You sweetly bullied him into this and made me look like a… a… leech!  Didn’t you?”

Singularly unimpressed by Delaney’s snit, Petra nailed her with a threatening glare.  “Keep your damn voice down.  I didn’t do a fucking thing other turn an unsolicited invitation into a pleasant surprise for you.  Oh, and made sure you look amazing for the inevitable photos.  You’re welcome.”

No.  Petra wasn’t allowed to play the martyr here.  Not this time.  Delaney had succumbed to her sister’s brand of overbearing well-being all afternoon with minimal complaint, but so help her…

“If you’ve ruined this for me, I will…  Well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll involve a half-page ad in the Times that will embarrass the sheep dip out of you.”

“Ruined what, exactly?” Petra challenged pointedly.  “Some misguided notion that he likes you as something other than a florist?  I saw the way you were looking at him earlier, which is why I made a point of interjecting his wife into the conversation.  He’s married, Delaney.  Happily so, if the press and his willingness to shop for holiday gifts is to be believed.”

Delaney’s jaw dropped open in astonishment as Lucifer the body guard grew larger on the concourse horizon, and his long legs were rapidly eliminating the remaining distance between him and them.  That left her without time to list all the ways her sister was mentally incapacitated, but she did have time to hiss, “You’re smoking crack.”

“Ladies.”  Gliding to a halt and folding his paws in front of him, the muscled skyscraper in black greeted them with what might pass for a smile.  “Nice to see you playing by the rules today.  Keeps me from calling Stan for backup.”

Having spent too many years of her life on the opposite side of the opinion poll from Petra to allow yet another disagreement ruin her evening, Delaney determinedly exchanged her anger for a snuffle of laughter.  Who knew the somber sasquatch had a sense of humor? 

“Anything to keep Stan away,” she avowed with a rueful grin.  “Seeing that we didn't get around to introductions yesterday, I’m Delaney, and this is my sister Petra.”

“Matt.”  A curt nod was his only response to Petra’s wide smile and hello before he stepped back and swept a hand in the direction from which he’d come.  “Ready to roll?”

Both women hummed their assent and set off behind the man who didn’t seem inclined to make conversation.  Maybe it was part of his job to be close-lipped, but Matt clearly wasn’t a chatty kind of guy – despite Petra’s best efforts.    

“So, what do you do for Bon Jovi?”  she inquired pleasantly, high heeled feet scurrying to keep up with his naturally-longer steps.

“Security.”

His conciseness didn’t dissuade Petra, who felt compelled to make a connection with everyone.  Big picture and all that.  “I bet that must be interesting at times.  Of course, you probably intimidate most people with your sheer size.”

“That’s the idea.”

Since they were behind him, Delaney didn’t bother trying to smother her grin.  She might just learn to like Lucifer/Matt if he remained unmoved by her sister’s oozing charm as they rode a series of escalators up to arena level.  

Garden security stationed at the doorway took in their guest passes with a nod as they breezed into a secured area.  That hallway progressed into a modestly lit area that was home to dozens upon dozens of wheeled equipment cases waiting to be utilized again.  Between two of those cases, someone had strung a hammock and was swinging peacefully, awaiting his next call to action. She’d just spotted a second hammock when the strains of the show’s opening song caught her ear. 

Pausing in a wide, dark doorway, Matt lifted his voice to be heard over the music.  “This takes you behind the stage.  Straight ahead and through the security barrier to get out front.  Sit anywhere you like, but stay in that area.  No place else.” 

That last remark was pointed very specifically at Delaney, who held up innocent hands.  No matter what Jon said about it only being work, she had the distinct feeling of being on sacred ground.  The goosebumps dancing along her arms and spine made it easy to forget her sister’s shenanigans and appreciate this opportunity.  There was no way she would risk getting evicted.

“I won’t go anyplace you don’t take me,” she promised with a wink and was pleased to see the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement.

“See that you don’t.  I’ll be back to get you after soundcheck is over.  Enjoy.”

With that, he waved them through the shadowy passage whose multitude of monitors and electronics provided just enough light to illuminate an impressive collection of guitars.  Futilely wishing to get a closer look at them, Delaney absorbed as much as she could while leading the way. 

“Delaney.  Did you see his guitar?”

“I’m sure it was in there, but I didn’t see it specifically.”

“Holy shit, what I’d give to nose around back there for ten minutes with a flashlight.”

Halting as they entered the open side-stage area, Delaney slowed so that she could push Petra through the security barrier ahead of her.  “Don’t even think about.”

Pursing her lips in annoyance, an insulted Petra sauntered regally by to pause at the end of the front row.  A silent flap of the hand asked where to sit, and Delaney pointed toward the nearest of two aisles that flanked the middle section.  Sitting front and center seemed awkward, as she didn’t want to call overt attention to their presence, but just left of center felt less conspicuous. 

The minute their backsides hit the cushioned Bon Jovi tour chairs that that would later go home with fans, Petra leaned close. “Jesus Christ, Delaney!  We’re the only ones here.  The.  Only.  Ones.”

Taking a quick glance behind and around them, she found that it was true.  Other than the men on the stage, they were the only two people visible in a deserted Madison Square Garden.

“Cheez Whiz in a can,” she breathed, finally experiencing the full impact of how privileged they were. 

Not everyone got to hear that the music was a little tinny bouncing off empty seats.   Few got to encounter a bespectacled Tico Torres looking like an accountant while wailing on the drums.  A scant minority knew the rest of the band dressed no better than college kids for rehearsal in faded jeans and shapeless t-shirts.  Just a sliver of the population experienced how cold an area could be without a crowd of thousands.

Only the honored elite got to witness an intense Jon Bon Jovi roam the stage without his trademark smile. 

For this space of time, the smile had been exchanged for a scowl of rapt concentration as he waited to pick up the lyrics to a song.  The band logo imprinted on the stage floor caught his harsh glare as both arms wrapped around his jacketed body, and Delaney was startled to realize he was cold even in the spotlight. Then again, maybe he was just lost in thought as he paced and listened to the music that had to be as familiar as his own name. 

She was enamored with him through it all, beginning to end.  

When he strummed and deviated from the traditional notes of “Lost Highway”, one would’ve thought he was delivering the sermon on the mount.  When he bounced on his toes like a prizefighter and started “In These Arms” three lines late, she coveted it as if he were doling out fishes and loaves.  When he stood with hands on hips to watch Tico play before cuing an abrupt end to “Captain Crash”, she internalized it like wine that had been turned to water.

It’s not an intimate experience;  it’s a religious one.

The irony of Uncle Benny’s “Jesus and His disciples” comment was not lost on Delaney. 

The whole time her eyes were on him, however, Jon made eye contact with no one.  A somber gaze shifted from here to there as he prowled the stage between verses, and then both eyes squeezed solidly shut when he sang into the mic.  Never once did he engage with his band members beyond announcing the next song.  He was so withdrawn into himself that she wasn’t even sure he knew she and Petra were there.

“Let’s do a little of ‘Have a Nice Day’."

“Ha!” Petra crowed at his latest muttered instruction and bumped the back of her hand against Delaney’s thigh. 

Finally ripping her attention away from the man on center stage, Delaney found Petra holding a glittery red smiley face against her chest.  Well, technically it wasn't a smiley face.  The Bon Jovi world knew it as the infamous smirk that trademarked the Have a Nice Day album and song he'd just commanded.

I guess he does know we’re here.

Too afraid of missing anything to be embarrassed by her sister's blatant cry for attention, she returned her eyes to the front with nothing more than, “Caesar’s ghost, is there anything you don’t have in that purse?”

“I have all the important stuff.”

Although it started as though it could go the distance, they weren’t treated to much more than a minute of “Have a Nice Day”. 

The band went through the first verse and most of the chorus before Jon hit a note that wasn't quite up to par.  His mouth flattened in displeasure as he shook his head and walked away from the mic to grab a stainless-steel cup off the drum riser.  He hadn't even swallowed before signalling the unchoreographed end of the song, and it fizzled away without fanfare. 

Now he stood with one hand draped loosely over the microphone, again staring at the floor while one of the guitarists strummed a repetitive chord.  The pause in activity was long and subdued enough to have Delaney shifting awkwardly in her seat.  Seconds seemed like minutes before Jon at long last lifted his mouth to the mic.

“What about… 'Hallelujah'.”

Oh, my flying Fig Newtons.  It really is a religious experience!

Bon Jovi didn’t do many songs from other artists, but Jon had made an impression on the world with his rendition of Leonard Cohen’s composition.  It was the Holy Grail of Bon Jovi cover tunes, and she exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Petra as they both mouthed, “Oh my God!”

The selection must have been unexpected or required a specific piano sound, because David Bryan immediately turned to the side and picked up a different keyboard.  It took only seconds to physically put it in place, but making it functional didn't happen as quickly.

As they waited, Jon ambled to the rear of the stage and hefted his steel cup for another sip before drifting back to the iconic white mic stand.  Intent eyes traveled amongst the floor monitors as he crossed both arms over his torso and hunched up his shoulders, evidently still cold. 

Glancing over to see if her sister was watching, she found that Petra wasn’t just watching, she was capturing the moment on her phone. 

“Are you recording this?” she whispered with incredulity.  Was that allowed?  Would Lucifer Matt come and appropriate the phone, crushing it under his size eleventy-two heel?

“Hell yes, I’m recording it!  You think we’re going to get another chance to do this?  It’s ‘Hallelujah’ for fuck’s sake!”

Delaney decided she wanted the recording more than she wanted to be cautious, and if recordings were prohibited, then Matt should’ve said so.  The only rule set forth was for them to stay in the area, and they were abiding by it with pleasure.

David continued to ready his instrument, and was busily adjusting cords and settings when Jon abruptly leaned forward into the microphone.  His arms still folded, he crooned out the first few words before grasping the mic and tackling the lyrics in earnest.

Without music.

Delaney sucked in a breath and held it as she dug fingertip-sized bruises into Petra’s thigh.  If she exhaled would it stop?  She was so afraid this was some kind of dream and that a leg cramp was going to interrupt the very best part. 

Because this had to be a dream.

Jon Bon Jovi singing “Hallelujah”.  Acapella.  For her and Petra.

“Well it gooes like thiis:

The fourth, the fifth... the mi-nor fall and the major liift

The baffled king com-pos-ing Hal-le-lu-jah...”

His eyes were scrunched shut with the expressive delivery of the words, and his passion had Delaney’s arm hair standing on end.  A shiver danced down her spine and tickled the ribs that were keeping a wildly beating heart in her chest.

He wasn't happy with one of the notes he hit but didn’t allow it to dissuade him.  Jon gave his head a vigorous shake and put it aside to finish the second verse without accompaniment.  At the beginning of the third, David finally joined in, and the music swelled along with Jon’s voice.  They melded perfectly to produce bone-chilling moments and flashes of perfect imperfection that Delaney would remember for the rest of her life.

Because this wasn't the polished, soul-wrenching performance that everyone drooled over on YouTube.  This soundcheck rendition was something different entirely, and she loved that it was raw, gritty and unedited for television.  He didn’t even finish the final hallelujah, letting it go unsung to again prowl restlessly with hands on hips as he listened to the piano sing without him.  Lost in his thoughts or the music, he let it carry on for several bars before Jon's nod declared both the song and the rehearsal complete.    

When he removed his ear monitors, Delaney released a slow, hushed breath without knowing how long she'd been holding it.  Quiet enveloped the arena as he disappeared down the back stairs, and she closed her eyes in an effort to solidify her memories of the last hour.

This was definitely the biggest chapter of her "cool moments in life" book.

Next post: Tuesday, August 14th