Ch 49 ~ Cranky Pants

Rachel frowned curiously at her ringing cell phone, wondering why Jon’s brother Matt would be calling her.  She hadn’t seen or talked to him since the band departed for this leg of the tour, while she went home to work obligations. 

Leaning back at her home office desk, she put that work aside and answered the call of the youngest Bongiovi. 

“This is Rachel.”

“Jesus, I hope so,” he snorted.  “Because if you didn’t answer your damn phone I was gonna commit a felony.”

Rachel laughed in bewilderment.  “Uh… okay.  Then I guess it’s a good thing I answered since I’m a real estate agent, not a lawyer.”

“Whatever you are is a huge pain in my ass right now.”

This phone call was getting stranger by the minute. “Gee…  I’m really sorry to hear that, but is there something I can do for you?”

The big man chuckled without humor.  “Yeah, you could come go on tour with a rock band before the guy in charge drives everybody crazy.”

Well that cleared things right up.

“I will assume you’re talking about Jon?  What’s the problem?”

He hadn’t seemed out of sorts when she’d spoken to him last night.  Or the night before.  He might have mentioned the fact that he was in Texas, teasing that he’d come halfway across the country and she could at least meet him halfway, but it was nothing of note.  They missed each other, but there were grown up responsibilities to be taken care of on both their parts. 

Besides, he was coming next week to spend an entire week with her.  Their separation wasn’t desirable, but it wasn’t an issue and they were finding time to talk a couple times a day. 

It couldn’t be an issue.  The tour was likely going to be extended to promote the band’s Greatest Hits release and that meant another world tour.  And that meant even longer periods of time away from home. 

“Home” itself was a relative term, too.   Even if he was “home” in New York or New Jersey, Rachel was “home” in California.  Things had changed from the early days of their relationship when they’d virtually lived together, spending nearly every night cuddled up in bed together. 

He was a rock star and she had a more normal job.  This was just the way it was going to be.

“The problem is that he’s a dick.  He’s pissy and bored out of his mind, so he’s working us like a friggin’ slave driver to keep himself occupied.  ‘Move this, change this, put it back the way it was’.”

She still wasn’t connecting the dots in a way that made any sense.  Matt didn’t seem like the whiny type, so why was he calling her to complain about Jon’s workaholic tendencies?  Surely it wasn’t the first time it had surfaced in twenty-five years?

“I’m sorry, Matt, but I’m not getting it.  What does that have to do with me, specifically?”

He huffed, clearly annoyed that she wasn’t seeing what was right in front of her face.  “Specifically… can’t you get away from work for a coupla days and come see him?  So his grouchy ass will leave us the hell alone?”

Her head fell back and a boisterous laugh bubbled free.  “Isn’t that a little bit like screaming for your mommy when somebody picks on you?”

“No.  It’s using all of your available resources to their full potential,” he reasoned.  “If you’re here in his room doing… whatever it is that you do and please God don’t tell me… then he will be happy and content with the perfectly organized tour that he is determined to tinker to death.”

She couldn’t control her giggling.  Matt was a big man – bigger than most, in fact – and he was asking her to come and drag the bully away by his… ear?  Absolutely hilarious!

“Seriously?” she gasped between gales of laughter.  “You have got to be kidding me.  Pull your gun on him or something.  You’re security.  You carry a gun, right?”

“Jesus Christ.  I thought I might get some sympathy here, but noooo…  You gotta be all logical on me or somethin’ when Jonny in this kinda mood is anything but logical.”

Rachel smothered a new batch of giggles and wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes as she sniffled.  “I’m sorry.  Truly.  But do you not see how funny this is?”

A soft snort came over the line.  “Yeah.  I guess.  But, damn…  Desperate times call for desperate measures and I figured this would be an easy fix.”

“Unfortunately, I have a job that needs me right now,” she told him, a lingering titter squeaking out.  “But if he’s being that much of a pain, I guess I can…  I don’t know.  Call him or something.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he declined gracefully.  “I really called to see if you got your delivery, but I decided to take a shot in the dark first.”

A grin curled the corners of Rachel’s mouth.  “It arrived this morning, thank you.  I appreciate your help.”

“No big deal.  I’m sure you’ll be in a position to help me out someday.”  He gasped like a badly portrayed soap opera character.  “Oh, wait!  Like now, maybe.  You could help me out now by hopping on a plane and soothing the annoying ass beast you call a boyfriend.  I’ll give you the hotel info, just like I did last time.  Which, coincidentally enough, is another time I helped you out.  It’s starting to sound like you owe me, Rach.  Don’t ‘cha think?”

Blonde locks shook along with her shoulders as laughter consumed her once again.  “I probably do owe you, but I’m not paying up just yet.  Suck it up, Matt.  I’m sure you’ve lived through worse.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” he grumbled before ringing off. 

Rachel tapped the disconnect button on her phone, marveling at the absurdity of it all.  Because she wasn’t there, Jon had become such a slave-driving taskmaster that his personal security was calling her to whine about it?

Seriously?

Jon isn’t that bad.  He can’t be. 

Despite the fact that Matt had told her not to bother calling, Rachel couldn’t help herself.  She had to hear this from the horse’s mouth. 

Checking the clock and calculating the time difference, she pressed the icon that represented Jon’s cell phone.

“Hey,” he answered, sounding a little distracted. 

“Hey, yourself,” she returned, propping her elbows on the desk and crossing her ankles under her chair.  “Are you busy, or do you have a minute?”

“Just finished sound check, so I’ve got a minute.  Hold on.”  His voice became muffled when he said, “No, let’s go back to the way it was in the first place.  I think that works better.”

A smirk found her face as she recalled Matt’s complaint about this very thing.  But still….

“Sorry, baby.  I’m all yours now.  What’s up?”

“Well…” she drawled bemusedly.  “A little birdie told me you were being a Grade A asshole, so I thought I’d call and see what’s up with you.”

“What the fuck?” he asked irritably.  “Why would somebody tell you that?  Who was it?”

“More importantly, is it true?”

“What?  No!  I’m working just like I always am.  I got nothing better to do since you’re not here.”

“Same as always, huh?  Not finding busywork for you and everybody else?”

He blew out an agitated breath, and she conceded that maybe Matt wasn’t being a drama queen after all.   Much.  “I dunno what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Spill, Jon.  Why are you annoying your employees?”

“Fuck ‘em if they’re annoyed!” he spouted belligerently.  “I pay ‘em well enough to be annoyed when the need arises.”

“Jon….”

“What?  What?!  So I’m a little more hands-on at the moment than I usually am.  What’s the big friggin’ deal?”

Rachel sighed softly.  Maybe Matt wasn’t being even a little bit of a drama queen.  She hadn’t seen Jon this touchy in…. She couldn’t honestly say she ever remembered seeing him this touchy, but she didn’t usually have her nose in his work, either. 

Now she just had to figure out how to approach the situation.

“Honey...” she began tentatively, “I don’t mean to butt into your work life, but - ”

“Then don’t,” he interrupted sharply.  “Instead, tell me you’re at the airport and will be in a posh Tampa hotel waiting for me when I get there after tonight’s show.”

Her eyes grew wide at the realization that she’d just been put in her place.  Or had she?  Maybe, instead, she’d discovered the real reason behind his mood... attitude... whatever.  Not only had Matt not been a theatrical drama queen, he’d also been right??

“Is that the problem?  You’re bent out of shape because I’m not there?” she asked incredulously. 

“I’m not ‘bent out of shape’,” was his firm denial.  “I’m working.  Granted, I don’t understand why real estate is more appealing than being in my bed...  and while we’re on the subject, I also don’t understand why you just don’t quit.  It’s not like you need the money anymore.”

Her head dipped to the side like a confused cocker spaniel and her eyes narrowed.  “Are you kidding me?” 

His voice was cold and flat when responding, “Do I sound like I’m kidding?  I just gave you two bottomless credit cards, and I’m pretty sure you have a nice nest egg tucked away besides that.”

“Okay, just stop right there,” Rachel ordered, torn between being dumbfounded and furious.  “I’m going to do you a favor and ignore all that money stuff, because...  Well, because it makes my head want to explode.  Jon, I thought you, of all people, would understand responsibility.  To my clients, to my employers-“

“What about your responsibility to me?”

“What about it?  I’m no further away than your phone or computer anytime you need me, day or  night, just like you’ve agreed to be for me.  We’ve discussed that.  And if this is a physical thing...”  She snorted with disdain.  “Contrary to urban legend and the women of Seattle, blue balls aren’t a terminal illness.  You can survive abstinence relatively unscathed.” 

“Now I’m going to do you a favor and pretend you didn’t just fuckin’ bring up history that’s supposed to be dead and buried.”

“Fantastic, thank you.  Because I’d much rather you tell me why a man who has spent more time on tour than in his own home – and self-admittedly requires an independent woman – is now suddenly needy and whiny.”

“I’m not whiny, goddammit!”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” she informed him haughtily.  “You’re sounding pretty whiny to me.”

“Yanno, Rachel,” he growled.  “I haven’t hesitated to give up everything – to make the changes you wanted me to.  What have you changed?  Huh?  What have you given up?”

His accusation hit her with the force of a bullet train, taking her breath and catapulting her into a stunned silence.

Holy mother.  Of.  Pearl.

What had she given up?  What had she given up??  Why, she had...  She’d given up....  Something, dammit. 

“Marriage,” she finally sputtered.  “I gave up marriage.”

His laugh was loud and humorless.  “Bullshit.  I’ve offered you marriage more times than I can count.  That’s on you, not me.”

“That’s not true!  I gave up on marriage because you’re offering it to me like a thing...  Like the house or the car or the credit cards.  You aren’t asking because it’s something you want so much that you can’t stand not sharing it with me.”

“Oh for God’s sake...!”

“I’m not complaining, because I’ve consciously chosen the path we’re on.  I’ve accepted that you’re more important to me than having the marriage I want, but make no mistake that I gave up that ideal for you.”

“Fuck!”  The noise he made was somewhere between a growl and a frustrated snarl before his tone turned to one of resignation. “Let’s dial this back about three steps, because I sure as hell don’t want to fight with you.  I just want you to be in my bed.  I miss you, dammit.”

The forlorn sigh that followed his confession soothed her raised hackles.  A little.  “I miss you, too, but I can’t just walk away from all my obligations just because you get a wild hair or a little horny.”

“Logically, I understand that, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” he grumbled. 

“You don’t have to like it, you have to live with it,” she rebutted with far more kindness than her tumultuous thoughts carried. 

He had bent over backward since turning up on her doorstep.  And, while she made a concentrated effort not to bicker or be argumentative, she hadn’t done much more than give him a hard time.  Was there something she should be changing?  Would he tire of all the concessions he’d made?  Would he someday grow weary of the man she’d “forced” him into being?

The questions troubled her and she didn’t like being trapped in a troubled place, so Rachel deliberately took them back to a place she did like being.

After he grunted with begrudging acceptance, she put a lightness in her tone that she didn’t feel in her heart.  “Just think...  In just one short a week, you’ll start a seven day tour of my bed.  I’ll have you so relaxed and sated with orgasms, that you won’t even remember being irritable.  You won’t even remember what irritable means.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll lay there for a solid week with your legs spread and your lips puckered, like a Nubian sex slave?”

She chuckled softly, nearly ashamed of the arousing jolt that shot through her.  “We have dinner plans with Robin and Rachel one night, but other than that...  Maybe.”

“You can wear a dress with no panties and I’ll fuck you in their bathroom though, right?”

“Ewww!”  Her nose wrinkled as she protested, “That’s so white trash tacky, Jon!  I’m not going anywhere without panties.”

“I dunno about that, I can remember a night you went without them.  But I can meet you in the middle...thong, then,” was his gracious concession, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Negotiable.  We can talk about it when you get here.  And,” she added.  “I should probably send them back, considering what an ass you were to me, but I’ll have a couple of surprises waiting for you.”

He snorted carelessly.  “Only surprise I’m interested in is the color of your lingerie.  I haven’t seen you in that white sequined thing I bought you in Vegas, yanno.”

“That’s because you were too impatient to let me put it on before you ravished me,” she teased. 

“Your fault for looking better naked than dressed.”

And that’s why I love this man....