22 - Treasure the Moment

“Showering here or at the hotel?” Matt asked loudly in Jon's ear, pushing a towel at him as he descended from the stage.  Loud was the only option in this fucking place, because the crowd was deafening.  He loved that about Montreal.

“Hotel.”

Without breaking stride, he took the most direct path to the dressing room while Matt spoke into his headset.  In less than a minute, Jon was tossing the sweaty towel on the table and exchanging it for his phone. 

“You taking Bounce out someplace or staying in?”

Keeping his head down, only Jon's eyes lifted to the brother who had stalled in the doorway.  Unquestionably, Matt was waiting to act as escort to the car he’d just summoned, but Jon would’ve appreciated him waiting silently rather than being a smartass and asking nosy questions.

“What are you?  My fucking mother?  And stop calling her that.”

“No, I’m your fucking personal security.  Am I off duty once you get to the hotel, or are we going out?”

[10:45 PM]JON: Room 912, 45 minutes.  I have wine. 

“You’re off duty.”  Pushing the phone into the back pocket of stage pants wasn’t as easy as his regular jeans, but Jon crammed it in and stripped off the leather vest to go in the wardrobe.  “I thought you told me they had seats on the floor.”

“That’s what Sandy found for ‘em, but they were about halfway back.  I guess the midgets convinced some tall guys in the lower bowl to trade places.”

Laughing to himself, Jon thought that sounded about right.  Delaney could work a Bon Jovi concert as well as his crew, but it had taken him half the fucking show to find her in that crowd.   Once he had, her endless energy had the same effect as downing a couple of Red Bulls, fueling Jon and sending his adrenaline soaring.  She was electric in more ways than one, and everybody in the place benefitted from it in the second half. 

“I want her down front tomorrow.  Find some lanyards and let ‘em ride the rail.” 

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

He was just zipping a jacket over his sleeveless tee when a text message chimed.  After wrestling the out of his damn pocket, it only took a glance to read it and groan.   

[10:46 PM]DELANEY: Ok.  Pearl wants to know if she can have a sweaty towel since you gave one to Petra.

Petra’s was a joke.  Who would think the socialite wanted a dirty, stinking towel?

These damn women and their weird ass souvenirs.  God only knew how many of them made voodoo dolls using his sweat, and as far as he was concerned, God could keep that info to Himself.  Jon didn’t want to know.

[10:47 PM]JON: As long as I never find out what she does with it.

Firing the message off into space and holding onto the phone, he plucked up the towel that had hit the table a minute ago.  It was too bulky to fit fully inside his jacket pocket, but he jammed enough in there to keep it secure. 

[10:48PM]DELANEY: She says deal.  Thankie!!

The phone went in the opposite pocket from the towel as he shook his head, marveling at the crazy things fans considered valuable.

And the one you’re infatuated with one who has maracas that YOU gave her.

That was different.

Delaney was a fan and she wasn’t.  She seemed to like the music, but other than that, he thought she was different than most of them.  Tonight, Jon would finally get the chance to discover how much truth there was to that, and he looked forward to it.

With everything he needed for the five-block drive to the Ritz now in hand, he headed for the door and the discovery session that awaited.  He didn't actually make it through the door, however, because his brother still filled the opening and looked looked content to stay right there.  Too bad for him, because Jon had places to be and Delaney to see.

“Let’s go.  I wanna get the hell out of here.”

“One question first.  You gonna tell her about Dorothea?”

“What about Dorothea?”

Seldom did baby brother ever dispatch a look that pegged him as an idiot, but damn if that wasn't happening right this very minute.

“That it’s over next week.”

They couldn't have this conversation in the car?  Seriously?

Okay, fine.  So the question was one he’d asked himself more than once since inviting Delaney to Montreal.  Maybe he'd even asked himself that more than once during the nights he woke with vividly dreamed visions still dancing in his mind.    

At first, the answer leaned toward yes, because it seemed like the right thing to do.   There was nothing wrong with being honest, right? 

That didn't last long before he admitted to himself that it had nothing to do with honesty and everything to do with how it might benefit him.  If he could use the pending divorce to hold her interest until the papers were filed, he'd have an open door to bring her into his bed afterward.

On the other hand, there was his promise to Dorothea that no one outside immediate family would find out until after those papers were filed.  She'd done him a huge favor by letting him hang on another six months, and he'd be an ass to deny her single request.  Besides that, he had an uncanny feeling that, if he broke that promise and told Delaney the truth, his other one would end up broken, too – the one about respecting the marriage until the end.  

He really, really didn’t want to break that second promise.  Dorothea deserved better, and after the way things had gone down, it was important to Jon that he give it to her.

There was always the possibility that Delaney wouldn’t tempt him once they were alone.  She could be boring, flighty or any of a million other things that would turn him off.  It was about as likely as Santa Claus going on a paleo diet, but it could happen.  Telling her would be pointless in that case.

The bottom line was that he couldn’t fucking decide what to do.

“Why should I?” was his noncommittal answer. 

“No, reason I guess.  Just wondering whether you’re gonna put Bounce in the position of ‘staying in’ with the husband of the woman who rescued her.  Or if you’ll give her a pass on the guilt.”  His voice was far more casual than the critical eye he used to berate Jon.  “Personally, I kinda like her.  Be a shame to see her put in that position.”

“You’ve got awful fuckin’ high standards for how to treat a girl you’re calling ‘Bounce’,” Jon observed with contempt.  “Since I hate that goddamn nickname, I’m betting my morals are a step above yours.  So, how about you mind your own business and get me to the hotel?”    

With his gaze narrowed, Matt balanced precariously on the fine line between employee and brother, and he was clearly choosing which way to fall.  Jon’s equally narrowed eyes and stubbornly set chin must've pushed him over to employee, because the bodyguard brother issued a short nod and repeated his earlier catchphrase.

“Whatever you say, Boss.”

{{{

The Ritz Carlton room that Jon arranged for Delaney and her travel companions was exceptionally nice.  When she sat on one of the two queen beds to watch the bedside clock, it was to find they were as soft as they looked.  The velvet-padded benches at the foot, along with the accent pillows and salon chair of the same royal purple, lent a warmth to linens’ cool pristineness.  Dark headboards and wood floors added to that warmth, as did the corner lamp glowing on the arrangement of pink peonies. 

It could’ve been a Motel 6 in Hoboken for all the attention she gave it. 

Beyond sitting on the padded stool to freshen her makeup at the bathroom vanity and using the magnifying mirror to squeeze a blackhead, she had no interest in the accommodations.  Petra and Pearl would likely be pleased with the place after they came back from clubbing with David, Phil and John Shanks, but Delaney’s mind was on a room two floors above her.

Jon, wine and the unknown awaited in that room. 

[11:21 PM]PEARL:  Any idea why Dave calls you Bounce?  He won’t tell us!

Puzzled yet grateful for the distraction, Delaney frowned at the screen as she typed. 

[11:22 PM]DELANEY: No clue.  Maybe it’s something I don’t remember?

[11:23 PM]PEARL: Scratch that.  He says you don’t know.  Have fun with HRH and DON’T GET ANY MORE FUCKING AMNESIA BEFORE YOU TELL ME ABOUT IT!

She put her phone on the nightstand with a snuffled laugh.  It was at least the third time she’d been told that since the show ended.  Pearl was positively paranoid that she’d miss out on something good, while Delaney feared she already had.

She was profoundly grateful for the concert that distracted her from that worry.   It provided a cathartic two hours that helped her regain the perspective that had slipped wildly askew during and after soundcheck. 

Bon Jovi’s music spoke to her soul and gave her permission to live in the moment.  It ordered her to do nothing but release her thoughts and feel.  She loved clinging to the beat of the drums until it kicked her free, pushing her to swing from a guitar string that would deliver her from ordinary life into the stratosphere of extraordinary – a place where souls were restored through the healing power of music. 

With the pulse of the crowd pumping notes through her veins, it was the finest drug.  Add in some delightful Hampton Water wine, shake, stir, toss in an exceptional entertainer that looked for her face among thousands – and found it during “Sleep When I’m Dead” to give her a scorching look – and it was more addictive than heroin.

If not for “Bed of Roses”, Delaney may have needed rehab after this trip.  It was the only point in the show that was sullied by reality for her.

Reality flaunted itself like a showy peacock with the reminder that Jon was an entertainer.  He’d chosen it as his vocation to draw flocks of women with a boyish grin, a soft look or a playfully distended tongue.  It was either a gift or skill which he’d honed to perfection, using it to earn a living for his family – and that’s what he did. 

Delaney was across the arena from the B-stage used for “Bed of Roses”, but her exchanged seats had her a few rows above the crowd and provided a clear line of vision for the performance of that song.  It was easy to see every hug, kiss, fist bump and caress of the hand that Jon engaged in to bewitch the crowd.   Had she been close enough, she probably would’ve even seen one of those looks from soundcheck – cast at someone else. 

Jon Bon Jovi was an extraordinarily thoughtful and kind man, and Delaney was just another fan.  She reminded herself of that as the clock ticked over to 11:28 and she rose to go upstairs. 

Tonight, thanks to another display of his kindness, she would share a glass of wine and some time with a superstar who had earned her admiration on multiple levels.  God willing, it would be something for her to remember with gratitude and fondness at this time next week. 

If the memory escaped her for some reason… then she’d treasure it for the moment.