1 - Misery, Hawaiian Style

Honolulu, Hawaii

February, 2010

Paradise valiantly attempted to envelope Jon in its serenity and beauty.

The jewel-toned waves slipped up onto the sand and, while he couldn’t hear them at this distance, he knew they were lapping a gently soothing cadence like a lover’s whisper.  A warm tropical breeze tousled the unruly flop of hair on his forehead and curled around bare limbs like a lover’s caress.  The lush greenery of the expanse between where he stood and the beach was nothing short of a Technicolor dream and, if you squinted just a little, even the architectural silhouette of Honolulu in the distance held the shape of a lover’s curves. 

He could almost feel Rachel’s hand in his as she pointed out the bits of secluded real estate dotting the landscape, pinpointing the one that would be their ideal lovers’ retreat.

Because what was paradise other than a lovers’ retreat?  And there was no doubt about it – this was paradise.  The view from the top of Diamond Head was every bit as breathtaking as Rachel had described it.  However, in spite of the beauty surrounding him, the scenery did nothing but create a picture-perfect, postcard memory of one of the top ten loneliest moments in Jon’s life.  

Because his lover wasn’t with him. 

He was in the company of his trainer and his loud-mouthed brother when this was something he and Rachel had planned on doing together.  Without her next to him, he was only further reminded of the loneliness that hung around like an invisible black cloud since she’d walked out on him.

It had been five months...

Four months, one week and two days, as a matter-of-fucking-fact.

...since Rachel got on that plane – his plane – and flown out of his life. 

From the time Rachel had left New Jersey bound for Hawaii and new job opportunities, it hadn’t taken long...

Two days.  Hours, maybe.

...before Jon’s mind had hatched the idea that landed him here and now.

The band’s tour was set to start on February 19th in Seattle.  There was nothing wrong with Seattle, but maybe the band deserved a bit of a vacation first – a little time in paradise to get the juices flowing again.  Or at least that’s what he told the men who worked for him when he decided to start the first leg of The Circle tour with a ‘soft’ opening in Hawaii. 

Hawaii didn’t make sense either financially or logistically.  The  venue was small and old – which  was one of the reasons they hadn’t played there in decades – but he hadn’t given a shit.  It provided a cover for the real reason he was hell-bent on getting to Honolulu. 

To see Rachel.   

He snorted softly to himself as the damn perfect breeze swirled around his bare calves, causing the hair to tickle his shins. 

That worked out fuckin’ brilliantly, didn’t it, Jonny boy?

Back in December, with the shows booked, fan club trip planned and Jon feeling pretty damn proud of himself he couldn’t resist giving Rachel a quick call for her birthday. He was man enough to admit being smug as hell with his little secret as he tapped her number, knowing that he would see her again in six weeks, while she didn’t have a clue.

Then she dropped the bomb that set his cloak of smugness on fire like the burning bed from that old Farrah Fawcett movie...  She was finished with her business in the Islands and would be heading back to the Mainland just before Christmas.  Weeks before he was scheduled to be there. 

That pissed him off royally, considering all the time, effort and money he’d put into this folly, but he had managed to keep his annoyance to himself by creating new curse words that described his level of stupidity for planning something – anything – around a woman.  He had just about channeled his inner Zen and figured a way to write off the whole thing as a tax loss when she decided to add kerosene to the fire.

While she appreciated the thoughtfulness of his call, his attempts to maintain contact only kept re-opening a wound she was trying desperately to close.  It would be better for her not to speak to him anymore, so would he please mind not calling again?  She would appreciate it.

Livid was the only way to describe the emotion that had proceeded to set his blood on fire along with his blazing smugness and – he was pretty sure – his balls.  He had fucking turned his world – and that of his employees – upside down to see her and she wasn’t even going to be in the goddamn state?  What the hell?  Didn’t she realize...?

No, dumbass, she DIDN’T realize.  And, considering the fact that she asked you never to call again, she wouldn’t have cared if she did. 

It was enough to make him cuss, kick and finally drink himself into a state of weary oblivion.  When he woke up in the pub the next morning with his mouth tasting like the bottom of Sambora’s ugly loafers, the accompanying hangover was enough to piss him off all over again.  Fortunately, this time it was in a more productive way.  

Jon would go to Hawaii.  He would go ahead and do all the things that he’d planned to do with Rachel there to make him enjoy it.

Without her.  By God, he would prove to himself that he could be just as happy alone as he would with a damn woman at his side – or die trying.

So here he was.  In fucking Paradise…more miserable than he’d been in years.   It was depressing as all hell.

“Are you finished scowlin’ at the freakin’ ocean, already?”  Matt demanded grumpily.  “Because I’m roastin’ like a pig at a luau over here.”

Jon couldn’t blame his brother for the ill-tempered sniping.  It wasn’t like Jon had been Prince Charming today, because when he was miserable, everybody around him knew it. 

Matt and Dean had bitched every step on the hike up, first complaining about the absurd pace with which Jon was taking the steep climb, then nagging about being careful not to blow his knee out.  Somewhere near the top quarter of the peak, Matt had finally snapped that he wasn’t killing himself in the heat and humidity of the afternoon Hawaiian sun so that Jon could exorcise whatever demon had crawled up his ass lately. 

It wouldn’t matter.  There would be no exorcising that little demon, he feared, and Jon personally couldn’t wait to get these shows over with so he could move on to Seattle.  Except that Seattle was even closer to Rachel than he was right now.  And a few days after that he’d practically be in her backyard when he played the first northern California show. 

He kicked a pebble over the edge and watched it bounce down the steep incline through narrowed eyes.

The west coast shows were going to suck.  There was no way around it, because her proximity was nagging at him like an unfinished melody.  The proverbial ‘thorn’ in his side, as it was. 

At least this particular thorn came with an expiration date.  In about three weeks, Jon was positive he’d be able to shake off his constant thoughts of her, and the subsequent irritability – once the tour progressed to the Midwest and, eventually,  Europe.  Then it would all be just another day at the office, without any blonde California-girl distractions.

But before he could push past Rachel’s corner of the world, he had to take the first step and get through the two shows in Hawaii.

And off this fucking volcano.

Ignoring Matt and Dean, who were yacking about Pearl Harbor or some other shit, Jon moved to begin the descent off the peak of the famed Diamond Head, but he couldn’t walk away without one more look.  It was like that damnable breeze carried her whisper, daring him to appreciate the beauty and, sucker that he was, he couldn’t resist.

His mouth flattened into a flat line as he spun to survey the panoramic view one last time. 

Waikiki Beach could easily be seen off one point and, at the base of the mountain, were homes even he could be impressed by.  Rachel had said it was some of the most expensive real estate in the world, he recalled.   She’d also teased him by saying that if he ever ventured outside of a Four Seasons once in a while he’d see all sorts of things. 

Remembering the look of fondness on her face as she declared Diamond Head a ‘can’t miss', his grumpiness fell away for the briefest of instants and he allowed the warmth of the sun to ease the tight muscles in his shoulders.  She would love that he had actually stepped outside his ordinary tour routine to take this hike in lieu of his typical run and weight lifting regime. 

Without thinking it through, Jon pulled out his phone and took a picture of the view.  The vastness of its beauty didn’t effectively translate to an iPhone screen, but it didn’t stop him from typing a short accompanying message and hitting the Send button anyway.

“Yo, Dickhead,” his brother called from a distance behind him.  Jon turned to find Dean with an unrepentant smirk on his face.  “We goin’ or what?  My delicate constitution can’t handle this shit.”

“Fuck you and your delicate constitution, baby brother,” he snorted as he blew past the pair who had accompanied him.  “We’ve got rehearsal in an hour.”