29 - We'll Make More

“Yeah, send ‘em back,” Jon laughingly instructed Matt before hanging up without a goodbye. 

How was it possible for three little women to cause such a disruption in his world?  This band had been operating like a precision machine for over thirty years, and all it took was a trio of determined sprites to throw a wrench in the works by making his security soft.

Pocketing his phone, Jon reached for the sides of his open shirt and began buttoning it together.  The funny thing was how little it bothered him.  He liked his plans and sticking to them, but Delaney Gardener and company had brought a spontaneity that wasn’t entirely unwelcome. 

That spontaneity had found its way into his show, and he couldn’t have asked for a better end product.  There was always room for improvement, but this was one that Montreal wouldn’t forget anytime soon, and they had Delaney to thank.  He had already expressed his personal thanks with the two songs performed in her honor tonight, and it pleased him that she’d known they were hers without being told. 

It also pleased him that they’d be sharing another bottle of wine because of that knowledge.  He was looking forward to a new episode of the tipsy florist more than was wise in light of the calculated risk he was taking in doing it.  

His inner barbarian knew how quickly the expiration date on his marriage would arrive and was already thumping his chest in anticipation of the imminent freedom.  There was a lusty gleam in his eye as the gates of civilization rattled with repressed testosterone, and if Jon got out of Montreal without kissing Delaney again, it would be a miracle.  

The vision of her strolling into his dressing room with her two sidekicks had made him think maybe miracles were overrated. 

That damn biker jacket suggested a sexy edge that he’d bet was more fact than fiction, and his band logo…. Jesus.  It molded her curves the way that he longed to, and Jon suffered a pang of irrational jealousy, quickly followed by an equally irrational satisfaction that she was marked as his in some obscure way.

Mou.

“Ladies,” he greeted, carefully keeping his features and tone neutral while slipping on his necklace.  “Have a good time tonight?”

“It was the fucking bomb.”

He was finding that Pearl was like Delaney in her openness, only with a more adult vocabulary that amused him.  There was something about hearing a little girl cuss like a dock worker that struck him funny, and a smile was just kicking up when surprise swept it away.  Petra’s arms snaked around his neck, clinging to him with the desperation of a drowning woman who'd latched onto a life preserver. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.  “If it wasn’t for you…”

Instinct had him curving light hands around her ribs as his eyes found Delaney.  “I guess you told her?”

She responded with an apologetic shrug while Petra released her grip to retreat and address him with regained composure.  “Yes, she did.  It’s only a couple so far, but they’re coming back and I'm confident this trip is the reason.”

“A couple?  You had another one?”  Again, he spoke to Delaney instead of her sister, and expressive eyes rolled with a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment.

“She’s making too big a deal of it, but yeah.  During the show, I remembered you singing ‘Memory’ to me.”

Fuck if that didn’t make him grin.  She was getting it back, and so far, it was all about him. 

Before he had the chance to consider the action, Jon closed the distance between them and folded her tightly against his chest.  Leather encased arms returned the embrace, and his lips impulsively pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before peering down to chastise, “I’m with Petra this time.  It is a big deal.”

Rather than answering with her voice, Delaney hugged a little tighter and it sparked a subtle change in the air around them.  Suddenly, the spirit of congratulations grew electric, and he became hyperaware of how their bodies fitted together.  She felt good against him – so good that he held their embrace longer than was appropriate, and Delaney’s cheeks were flushed when his hands slid reluctantly free. 

Jon immediately missed her soft heat and felt the stirring of desire low in his belly.  He wanted this woman more than he could remember wanting anyone in ages, and this goddamn delayed gratification only intensified the ache.

Three days.

“Very big deal,” Petra echoed smugly and slipped an arm around Delaney's shoulders as everyone remained oblivious to his torment.  “And I’m beyond grateful to you, Jon.  If there’s anything I can ever do, you need only ask.  I’ll sing your praises to anyone and everyone in New York government.”

Stuffing both hands awkwardly into his pockets, he dragged himself back from the edge of the gutter and concentrated on being gracious.  At his age, he really should be better at accepting gratitude, but it still made him uncomfortable – especially when he’d brought them here for his sake as much as anyone’s. 

“Thanks.  As long as Delaney’s recovering, that’s all that matters.”

“Word.” With her emphatic approval, Pearl became the third piece of their little puzzle by aligning a hip with Delaney’s and hooking an arm around her midsection.  “And it’s all working out for the best.  She’s going to go on a date with the paramedic who scraped her off the sidewalk!”

She’s going to what?

Jon forced his body to remain in a casual stance, but both hands flexed in his pockets while breathing through his intense disapproval of that little announcement. He wasn’t even in a position where he could admit his interest in Delaney, but there was still no fucking way he’d stand by and let somebody else have her before he got his chance.

“Really?”  Jon summoned up one of his old movie characters to exude an innocent skepticism and pretend that his interest in her date was superficial.  “The EMT asked you out?  Because not only is that a douchebag way to pick up women, it sounds like a violation of ethics.  Talk about fucking ambulance chasing.”

Delaney disengaged from both women, and he got the feeling this scene was making her uneasy. 

Good.  I’m not the only one, then.

“Pearl’s projecting her delusions onto my life.  I have no idea what he wants, other than for me to call.”

“Well, I’m inclined to agree with Jon.  It’s creepy, and why haven’t I already heard about this?”

So much for blocking Petra from his phone.  She was on his side and had effectively declared herself one of his minions.  He might be calling her into duty if this shit got out of control.

“Other than it’s really none of your freeping business?” Delaney dryly inquired of her sister.  “He just came into the shop today.  Marilee texted while you were getting coffee in Old Montreal.”

Still doing his part to be discouraging under the guise of concern, Jon winced thoughtfully.  “Still… You should probably be careful.”

“Oh, no worries,” Pearl assured.  “Marilee’s a bulldog.  She wouldn’t have even passed the number along if he was anything to worry about, and I’ll totally check the guy out.”

“Thank you all for your interest, but I’m a grown woman and can manage my life just fine.”

“What you remember of it.”

Petra’s glib murmur took Delaney’s mild annoyance and escalated it to pissed.  The lightning in her eyes was too obvious for anyone to doubt it had happened.  “Jon has things to do that don’t involve crazy women.  If you want to thank him for anything else do it now, because it’s time to leave.”

She started sweeping a hand toward the doorway in what he assumed was an effort to herd her midget posse out of the dressing room.  Before Jon had a chance to protest – or anyone could get out – the exit was blocked by a curly-headed keyboardist wearing a look of contrived confusion. 

“Leave?” came David’s questioning protest.  “What is this ‘leave’ you speak of?  You guys aren’t coming to the wrap party?”

“Nope,” Delaney supplied shortly, still none to happy about her sister’s cheap amnesia shot.  Jon couldn’t say that he blamed her.  It was pretty cold for the woman who was supposed to be the politically correct presence on this crew.  “We’re thanking Jon for another amazing opportunity and saying goodbye.”

David slid in between Petra and Pearl, lazily curling an arm around each and snugging them into his sides.  “There’s no reason for you guys to bounce outta here so fast.  Let me buy my homegirls a drink first.  Pearl can’t hold her liquor for shit, but Pet can drink with the big boys and I’ve got just the thing for her.”

Delaney’s lightning-filled eyes hadn’t fully emptied when he saw them fill anew.  He knew it was only an optical illusion or a figment of his imagination, but look at her, he’d swear her eyes mutated to a gray so light that it could’ve been white.  

Her lips compressed together, and Jon gave silent props for the visible consideration of her words before she huffed, “Why did you start calling me that?”  As if knowing an answer wasn’t forthcoming, she pivoted to Jon with her insistence. “Do you know?”

“Know what?” Blinking innocently, he mentally vowed to sucker punch Dave at the very first opportunity.

‘“Why he calls me ‘Bounce’.”

“He made all kinds of weird references to that word in New York, too,” Petra volunteered, studying both men with distrust.  She was probably just happy to have someone taking her place on Delaney’s shit list.  “And wouldn’t tell us why when it slipped again last night.”

Not to be left out – because God forbid any of these women get a leg up on the others – Pearl chimed in with, “I heard Matt do it, too.”

“Actually, Matt calls her Hall of Fame more than Bounce.”

How had Jon known that goddamn nickname was going to come back to bite him in the ass?   He was going to kill them both, starting with David, since that mouthy fucker was within arm’s reach. 

“Stop talking,” Jon ordered the chief troublemaker and jabbed a finger in his direction.  “Just shut the fuck up.”

Making a show of clamping his mouth shut, David mimicked the turn of a key that would supposedly lock his lips.  Silence reigned for precisely two seconds before he nudged Pearl.  “Wanna get shitfaced?  I think I’ve got an eyedropper in my suitcase.”

The little Asian woman gave him a playful elbow in the side, but Delaney wasn’t to be deterred.

“You know, don’t you?”

That was for Jon, and her probing gaze had him squeezing his eyes closed for a split second.  Her question wasn’t hurled in anger, and the white pupils had returned to a more natural shade that made it seem like she wasn’t pissed at him.  When she found out he wouldn’t – couldn’t – answer her question, that could change, though. 

He’d rather not have an audience if it did. 

“Ladies, I need to steal Delaney away for a minute.  You are hereby invited to the party, and David will be happy to escort and entertain you until we catch up.”  Lowering his voice for her ears only, he requested, “Stay with me?”

Her sister and friend both shot curious gazes their way, as though they were afraid of missing something interesting, but they didn’t verbally object – to his great surprise.  Maybe it was because Dave shepherded them toward the door with some dumbass humor that had them laughing before the door closed behind them.  The keyboardist had been friends with Jon long enough to know it was in his best interest to get out while the getting was good.

Blowing out a breath, Jon waved the only remaining sprite toward his leather couch as he vainly scrambled for the best possible response to her question. 

Outright lying was always an option, but he was just starting out with this girl.  Experience had viciously taught him that a lie, no matter how well it was crafted, would always find a way to rear its head and produce painful bloodshed.  He was still smarting enough from that life lesson to steer clear of engaging in it with Delaney. 

He was going to request a show of both blind faith and patience.  It was unreasonable, considering their short friendship – exceptionally short on her end – but there didn’t seem to be much other choice. 

A gentle nudge encouraged her to sit on the sofa, and he took the long way around the coffee table to perch on the edge of the cushion beside her.  A quickly composed request for understanding was poised on the very tip of his tongue – but died as soon as he looked into her face. 

Delaney was white as a ghost, and she looked dazed enough to have seen one.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Both eyes pressed firmly shut so that she could give a slight shake of her head before they opened with a bit more clarity.  “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

He really didn’t like the ashen pallor of her face or the way she fidgeted with the rings on her fingers.  Delaney wasn’t a fidgeter.  Not like he was.  What the hell had happened in the space of thirty seconds? 

“Last night you told me we’d never been alone together.  Is that the truth?”

“Absolute truth,” he vowed, leaning forward with his brow drawn low.  “Last night’s the first time.  Why?”

Another shake of her head preceded, “No reason, really.  I just… had another flashback and I’m trying to put it in context.”

“What was it?”

“A dream, I guess.”  She squeezed the fingertips of one hand together with the other and smiled.  “What happened just now….  You said that before, about stealing me away for a minute.  Except you didn’t say ‘stay with me’.  You said –“

“Come with me,” he spoke the words softly in unison with her.  

Of all the goddamn things for her to remember, it had to be that one moment of innuendo that was completely unintentional.   The one he’d thought of again just last night, when he went to bed alone while she slept on his sofa.

“Yeah.  That memory had a ripple effect, and….  Well, there’s a lot more now than there was before.”  One dimple dug deeper than the other as she looked down at the thumb where his forget-me-not gift was seated.  “But I still don’t know why David’s calling me ‘Bounce’.  Tell me.”

The Barbarian in him demanded to know what dreams had her again asking if they’d been alone together, even though Jon feared the answer.  He recognized the thunder that rumbled behind her eyes, having first seen it the very night of that “come with me” innuendo.  If she revealed the thoughts behind that thunder, the remaining shreds of his self-control could be in serious danger. 

Accepting her flagrant change of topic was a better choice yet just as unwanted, since it would require him to address the reason for that goddamn nickname.  Both scenarios had the potential to betray his promise to Dorothea, and it left him with nothing but the proverbial “no comment”.

Would she accept it?

“Delaney…  Dave has a fucked-up sense of humor.  Telling you about that dumb name would involve a whole lot of other shit that I just can’t get into tonight.”  He laced his itching fingertips together so that they wouldn’t reach for her hand.  “I have a feeling you don’t want to get into those memories tonight, either.  Am I right?”

“I won’t be sharing those particular memories, I’m afraid.” 

Jon wasn’t quite as confident about that as she was, but debating the point was equivalent to shooting himself in the foot, so he kept it to himself. 

“Let’s just put all that on the back burner for a few days.  Okay?  I’ll give you a call sometime this week, and we’ll talk.  Maybe have a drink.”

“Gee, that sounds an awful lot like a date.  Will Dorothea be joining us?”

“No, it sounds like a drink between friends,” he corrected her droll observation, even though his plans involved a hell of a lot more than a drink – and no Dorothea.  “But I’d like to go back to the subject of dates.  I think it would be a really bad idea to go out with an EMT.  That’s just fucked up.”

“Okay, first of all, nobody knows that he wants to go out with me.  I only have a message to call him.  Secondly…”  she dropped her chin and regarded him in a way that foreshadowed the attitude she was about to spew.  “Jon Bon Jovi’s guide to dating? I had no idea that was even a thing.  Is it available on Amazon?”

 “It’s not, smartass.  I’m offering sound advice, and if you don’t wanna listen to it, I’m establishing another demand in return for your Montreal Jovi-fest.”

“Uh-huh.  I had a feeling there was gonna be more.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a goddamn genius then, aren’t you?”  He had no qualms about dishing attitude back at her, but Jon quickly dropped the playfulness.  “Call the guy if you want.  Do whatever it is you’re gonna do, but do me a favor?  If he asks you out, give it a week before you say yes.”

Delaney was back to fiddling with the forget-me-not while squinting thoughtfully at him.  “You realize your concern is weird, right?”

“Maybe it is, but will you wait a week, anyway?”

The silence was deafening as Delaney studied him as the wheels turned in her mind.  She was trying to make his concern fit her idea of logic, without knowing it was impossible.  Making it fit would require more information than what she had, and Jon couldn’t give it to her.  Not yet. 

“Have I ever mentioned what a shame it is that you’re married?”

 “You’ve mentioned that I’m married – several times,” he acknowledged with a slow grin, knowing he’d won.  “Can’t remember you saying it was a shame.”

“Well, it is.  It’s probably safer for all womankind, but it’s still kinda sad.”  She rose to her feet with a sigh.  “I’ll wait, but now I need to go make sure Pearl and Petra aren’t restructuring your crew or something.”

“Not a bad idea.  You’re still gonna help me empty a bottle of wine after this, right?”

A contemplative gaze tracked his movements from sitting to standing.  When it met his, he found that wistfulness overshadowed the faint remnants of thunder and lightning in their depths.

“I’d like to, but no.  This remembering thing is exhausting, and I’m just wiped.”

It was disheartening to find out he’d be drinking alone tonight until sleep overtook him, but it wouldn’t be the first time.  He’d won what he considered the important battle and was on track to win the war.  Jon could sacrifice her company for an evening but couldn’t keep himself from reaching out to brush tender fingertips over her cheek. 

“Okay.  Want me to take you back to the hotel?”

Delaney retreated from the gentle touch, shaking her head and moving toward the door.  “No.  Absolutely not.  You have… stuff to do.  I’ll grab the girls and we’ll walk back.  No big.”

Stifling the impulse to insist that they take his driver, he nodded.  They were grown women and it wasn’t far.  “Alright.  I’ll call you in a few days.”

“I…”  she hesitated with the doorknob in hand, slowly turning to peer over her shoulder.  “Thank you for everything.  Soundcheck, the hotel, the memories….  Everything.  This time I won’t forget.”

If you do, we’ll make more.