Ch 92 ~ After All

The Louisiana heat combined with Jon’s hissy fit during the show wasn’t a recipe for anyone’s happiness.  When Bon Jovi exited the JazzFest stage, the strain of both was easily identifiable on each man’s face, and they all gave Jon a wide berth. 

Habitually, just like she was cautious of voicing opinions on band relationships, she also made it a point to discreetly disappear when tension spiked within the ranks.  Sometimes, though, it wasn’t about the band.  Tonight wasn’t about the unit of men, but the single man who was struggling to lead them – and Rachel couldn’t stand by and do nothing.  His torturous thoughts had already driven him to lash out once, and by all appearances, he was only a breath away from it happening again. 

That’s why, while the rest of the group went to shower before the flight, she pulled him aside to quietly remind, “Everybody here is on your side.  We’re all here to support you.  Please don’t forget that, love.” 

She left him with that soft plea, an equally soft kiss and the promise to be waiting for him at the plane.   What came next she didn’t know.  She probably never would, and that was okay. 

All Rachel could attest to was that, by the time Jon and the boys walked up the stairs and onto the plane, the tension had taken on a different feel.  It wasn’t gone, but rather than being steeped in anger, it now reeked of exhaustion.  Each man bore the unmistakable signs of being both physically and emotionally drained, and her heart ached for them as they settled into their seats.

When Jon scrunched down in his spot beside Rachel, he draped an arm over her leg and forced the faintest of smiles but said nothing.  He’d laid a hand on Phil’s shoulder and murmured thanks on his way, but after that, somber silence ensued for the dozen passengers.  For hundreds of miles, the only sound in the cabin was the constant drone of jet engines as they escaped the unpleasantness of New Orleans.    

Rachel tried to read a magazine, but her attention kept drifting to the man whose eyes were either riveted out the window or hidden behind closed lids.  Physically, Jon was the same arrogant, overconfident Jersey boy with whom she’d fallen in love – familiar in the curve of his mouth, the cleft of his chin and the restless hand that would rub over his head from time to time. It was the air of vulnerability and helplessness arriving along with the news of Richie's visit to rehab that made him different and someone she was still trying to acclimate to.  

He didn’t proudly carry his usual shield of invincibility tonight.  He didn’t have enough hands to hold it aloft while he juggled the blame for a subpar performance and the ambiguity of how long Richie would be out of the Bon Jovi equation.  With no shield and both overflowing hands in the air, all he could do was let the clouds pass him by on his free fall from stability. 

Jon didn’t have a solid plan for the immediate future, and it was eating him alive. 

“Baby,” she finally murmured in his ear, unable to stand it any longer.  “If Plan A doesn’t work out, there are 25 other letters in the alphabet.  You’ll find something that works, and the world won’t stop turning before you do.  I promise.” 

“I swear sometimes I think you really can read my mind.”  Lifting the arm that he had draped over her lap, Jon angled his hand back to bury fingertips in the hair above her ear and used the leverage to pull her close enough to kiss.  “If this real estate gig doesn’t work out for ya, palm reading might be a good backup plan.”

There was a slight sparkle to the blue eyes she knew so well, and it gave Rachel hope.  With a little encouragement, his spirits would lift, even if it was just a little.

“That’s not a bad idea… I could set up a little booth in the concession stand at your shows and just travel the world with you.”

The soft snort of derision was more amused than anger-infused as his forehead tenderly butted her temple.  “Always the tease, aren’t you Rach?” 

If only you knew. 

“You’d enjoy the teasing if you weren’t so wiped out.”

“I can enjoy it and still be wiped out.” His tired grin switched to remorse, complete with an involuntary duck lip as he drew back to meet her eyes.  “I’m sorry about the last few days.  My dick hasn’t been cooperating any better than the rest of my world, but I’ll make it up to you.”

They’d found a spark of light in the dark gloominess, and Rachel wasn’t going to let it go so that he could wander back into the shadows of accountability.  She’d do whatever it took to cultivate something that even vaguely resembled carefree and happy.

“Oh really?  Hmm…” Rachel pretended to contemplate the possibilities while stroking the hair from his forehead.  “Exactly how would you define ‘making it up’ to me?  I mean, I want to be sure we’re on the same page here.  I’ve been living celibate for nearly a week, so my perception is that you owe me big.  Bigger than big.  Huge.  Massive, even.  The sun, moon and the stars seem a pretty reasonable exchange for the orgasms I’ve been cheated out of.”

His smile was still weary, but she loved the affection that managed to come along for the ride and hitch the corners a little higher.  “Whatever my money can buy is yours, baby.  All you have to do is name it.”

The flight crew made the announcement that they were beginning descent, so Rachel buckled her seatbelt and snuggled into Jon’s side.  Money was an easy fallback for a man who had it, but his assumption was both lazy and mistaken, compelling her to nip the thick tendon in his neck as punishment. 

“Silly man,” she chided in his ear after gentle lips nuzzled away the sting.  “What I want can’t be bought with your money.”

Rachel’s desire was far too precious for the likes of money. 

                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late when the driver navigated the last turn on Navesink River Road.  The sun had long-since set and brought a chill to the spring night that was comparable to the cool façade Jon couldn’t seem to let go. 

Upon landing, he’d made a point to hug each one of his band members before they headed their separate ways and issued promises to call soon.  It went a long way toward easing the lines in all their faces, and Phil received another round of gratitude with the same pledge to be in touch before Jon slid into the back seat beside Rachel.  

Since then, he’d tried to be pleasant and engage in her occasional commentary, but it was obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere.  Jon seemed to have moved past the events on that hot New Orleans stage, because there was no self-loathing in the set of his jaw.  The thumb that scraped back and forth over his bottom lip was a sign of deliberation.

It was the murkier horizon of the future that he saw instead of the darkened scenery, and she imagined that he was lining up his alphabet of options.  Rachel laid a hand on his thigh and squeezed lightly, confident that he’d find one.  He just needed to stop pressuring himself into doing it right now.

As they passed the mansion that was the “known estate of rock star Jon Bon Jovi”, she nudged him and nodded out the window.  There was a trio of women posing in front of the gates, with the house lights the only illumination for their souvenir photos.  It really was a beautiful background for a picture, but Rachel couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“You know you have too many houses when your fans don’t even know which one you actually live in, Jon.  Maybe it’s time we downsize a little.”

“I got no problem with them stalkin’ an empty house.  Keeps ‘em away from my real front door.”

“Touchè,” she conceded as the driver braked outside the gates to their private kingdom.  It was going to feel heavenly to climb into that huge, antique bed with him and put this day behind them.

“Excuse me, sir,” the driver intruded upon her blissful anticipation.  “There seems to be an issue with the gates.  They aren’t opening far enough to drive through.”

Anticipation became reflection as a barrage of memories went flying through Rachel’s mind.  Those temperamental gates were responsible for… everything.  If they’d worked properly in the first place, Rachel wouldn’t have been stuck trying to squeeze a suitcase through their narrow opening.  Jon wouldn’t have stopped to rescue her. 

There were a lot of moments between then and now that she wished had gone differently – moments that could have gone so much better.  Many of them should have gone better, but they’d been finding their way on a path that was overgrown and unfamiliar to them both.  The landscape may not be even, but the path was now clear, and it led to this moment together. 

To their home.

When she turned to see if any of this was going through his mind or if she was just being hormonal, Rachel found him grinning tenderly at her.  He remembered their beginning just as clearly and fondly, and that realization brought a lump to her throat and a loving grin to her face. 

It’s time.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jon chuckled to the driver, grabbing Rachel’s hand and their carry-ons.  “The damn things never have worked right.  We’ll just walk from here.”

With the moonlight shining upon them and their interlaced hands as they strolled up the driveway, Rachel stroked his left ring finger with her thumb.  He was still wearing the hundred-and-nineteen-dollar economy ring she bought him in Paris after his grand marriage proposal.  He wore it every day, just like she wore “the Hope Diamond and all her sisters” – as a sign of their commitment.

“Hey,” he mused, drawing her to a halt just before they reached the front steps.  “You never told me how you managed to clear your schedule enough to be here this week.  What happened to the important meetings that were keeping you in California?”

“Something more important came up.”

“So, the loss of a band member can shift your priorities.  Good to know.”

“No, dumbass,” she cooed, lifting feathery fingertips to the cheek hollowed by a hellish week.  “the shift in priorities came when you didn’t just want me here but needed me.  That changed everything.”

Jon sloped his shoulder so that their bags dropped to the steps and then released her hand, draping it over his shoulder.  His hands laced at the small of her back, tugging her close to kiss her forehead.  “You’re the dumbass for not realizing I’ve always needed you.”

He was right, and Rachel knew it. 

“Touchè again.”  Her sigh was as gentle as the breeze that chilled her, but she couldn’t make herself go inside yet.  This moment had been too long in coming.  It was too important to risk missing for something as menial as comfort, and she hugged him closer.  “When we first met I was so… sooo broken.  I know it’s no excuse, but pain and fear kept me from allowing myself to believe I meant as much to you as you do me.  Then…  Well, everything that was wrong in my world, you made right – or as close to right as possible.  Now I want to give the same back to you.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

Lifting her chin deliberately, she leaned back to meet the moonbeams reflected in his eyes and vowed, “It means that I’m done with being afraid, done with running, and done with anything that keeps me from the life I want more than anything.  A life with you.  My meetings didn’t get magically postponed, Jon.  I quit my job.”

His brow shot high above rounded eyes.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  You, Rachel Braden, quit your JOB?  The only thing that gave you purpose and independence?”

She didn’t flinch at the brutal honesty, because Rachel deserved it.  That was a mild penance for being stupid enough to make him think he didn’t matter as much as a job that would be filled by the end of the week.

“I did.”  Rachel’s fingers skated along the white placket of his button-down shirt, and her ring caught the light with a mocking wink.  “It’s been a really long time since you asked me to marry you.  How do you feel about asking again?”

Those rounded eyes narrowed to slits and he reclaimed the scowl that had been etched into his features for much of the day.  “Don’t fuck with me, Rach.  Not today.”

“I’m not, baby,” she whispered.  “Ask me.  Please?”

He still wasn’t eager.  Reluctance weighed down every breath in the silence as he shifted his gaze from one of her eyes to the other. 

She knew she must look a fright after everything, but she’d looked a fright that first day, too, struggling with her suitcase.  If he’d seen something in her then….  Now, after everything they’d been through, she had no doubt he could see past the flyaway hair and faded makeup to the heart that wanted nothing other than to be the rock he leaned on after days like this.  To be the steadfast presence he’d been for her. 

“Marry me, Rachel.  No more games, no more bullshit.  Just be my fucking wife already.”

Laughing up into his beautiful face, she couldn’t keep from shaking her head.  What else had she expected?  Really?  After all this time and after all the refusals, this was as “Eiffel Tower” as it got with her Jersey man – and she was okay with that.

More than okay. 

“I’d love to be your ‘fucking wife already’ – as much as I love you.  Now kiss me.”

“Well, here we are again

I guess it must be fate

We've tried it on our own

But deep inside we've known

We'd be back to set things straight

I still remember when your kiss was so brand new

Every memory repeats

Every step I take retreats

Every journey always brings me back to you

After all the stops and starts

We keep comin' back to these two hearts

Two angels who've been rescued from the fall

After all that we've been through

It all comes down to me and you

I guess it's meant to be, forever you and me...

...After All.”



~ T h e   E n d ~