Ch 58 ~ Set To Go

“Hey, handsome.  Whatcha doin’?”

Rachel strolled into the dressing room at the O2, feeling incredibly contented and at home.  It was only the second night at this venue, but Jon’s dressing room had looked just the same in the Netherlands, so she had quickly become used to the black curtains that masked cinderblock walls, the dark, comfy sofa, huge television, fuzzy area rug, heavy coffee table and the dozen other homey touches that made the space “his”.

Clearly immersed in the open laptop, television and a sheet of partially scribbled paper, Jon nonetheless looked up at her with a welcoming grin and put down his black Sharpie marker to extend his hand to her.  Tugging on it, he pulled her down next to him on the sofa, and in for an easy kiss before answering, “Set list.  Did you get your work drama taken care of?”

Even the crisis that had pulled her away from their lunch before she was finished hadn’t put a damper on her mood.  She was in the first part of a month-long tryst with her lover on another continent full of rich history and beautiful places.  Oh, and fabulous sex with the man she loved. 

The interruption was a minor blip on her day’s radar, particularly with the traveling business facilities that Jon had offered her full access to.

“Mm hmm.  I just needed to print and sign some documents so that I could return them.  The only downside is that I’ll have to monitor it, so I may be back here working during the show.   I really appreciate this, by the way.  It’s so convenient that this place is like a mobile Office Depot – any kind of equipment I need, you have.  It’s the perfect corporation!  You should sell stock in Bon Jovi.”

“That might be one way to fund an NFL team,” he mused with a wry grin.

Rachel chuckled.  He was so anxious to have his own NFL team, but the opportunities were few and far between.  Still, he was socking money into his “NFL fund” at every opportunity so that he would be ready when that opportunity did arise.

“But then you couldn’t be Lord and Master over millions of women, honey.  It would just be a pack of sweaty men and they don’t lose common sense and control of their credit cards when it comes to you.  No.  I say you’re better off to just keep shakin’ that money maker.”

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, eliciting a delighted giggle from Rachel, and she ran her fingers across the top of his head.  Tucking her legs beneath her, she nodded toward the paper that lay abandoned on the coffee table.   

“So…what’s on the set list tonight?”

“I dunno yet.  I’m having a little trouble,” he confessed with a grimace, picking up the Sharpie and leaning over the half-finished roadmap for the evening’s show.  “With twelve shows here, I want to mix it up for those people who come more than once.  You got any requests?”

“Ooh!” She was going to get to help pick songs??  How much fun was that??  Maybe she could convince him not to do “Wanted Dead or Alive” and “Livin’ on a Prayer”.  So what if they were their best known songs?  They still got old night after night after night.  “I’d love for you to do ‘In These Arms’.  That’s my favorite,” she supplied enthusiastically.

Now what else did she like?  Something a little out of the ordinary would be good…

“Nah,” he vetoed her choice absently, lost in his own thoughts and unaware that she’d moved on to her second selection.  “Did that last night.”

Oh. 

She silently huffed, but was only momentarily deflated.  That was true.  Maybe she’d try again for tomorrow night.  But for tonight…  Hmm…. 

“Okay, then how about ‘When We Were Beautiful’?  Yanno the first time I heard that I thought it was about us and it seemed like a real downer, but now that I’ve heard it a few times it feels really uplifting to me.  Why don’t you do that one?”

“Mm.”  He tapped the cap of his marker distractedly against the table and shook his head without looking at her.  “Did that last night, too.”

“Ugh!”  Rachel butted the heel of her hand against the back of his head in semi-frustration.  “Stop shooting me down!  You did ‘Prayer’ and ‘Wanted’, too, but I’m betting I’ll have to hear those again tonight.”

Jon snapped his head around to give her his full attention for the first time since he’d picked up the Sharpie.  “Whaddaya mean you bet you ‘have to hear those again tonight’?  Those are classics!  The crowd loves ‘em!  Of course they’re going to be on the set list!”

“Maybe they do love them, but if I have to hear about you riding a steel horse for the next twenty shows, there’s an excellent possibility that I might have an aneurism.”  She stuck her tongue out at him, and made one last stab as he turned back to ponder the partial list of songs.  “Could you at least make sure ‘Have A Nice Day’ is on the list, please?  You didn’t do that one last night – in fact, you haven’t done it a single time since we’ve been in Europe.” 

“Not feelin' it,” he grunted.

Rachel’s eyes rounded like that of a barn owl and disbelievingly blinked at him in much the same manner before inquiring of him sardonically, “Why ask if I have any requests when you know you’re not going to sing anything but exactly what YOU want to sing?”

He tossed the pen onto the table in front of him with a crooked grin and leaned into Rachel, kissing her in that familiar, if not exactly passionate, way that he sometimes did.  “I guess it was just polite conversation, Rach.  Because you’re right.  I ain’t ever gonna do nothin’ but what suits me.  That’s exactly why you should accept my marriage proposal.  You oughtta know if I’m askin’, it’s because I want to, not just to make you happy.”

 Marriage.  All roads led back to this same dead end conversation, but she had moved past debating the issue with him weeks ago.  He asked, she declined and they went on about their day.  Annoying, but functional.

“Lovely offer, but I’ll pass and let you get back to creating your masterpiece of a set list without having to ignore any more input from me. But,” she cautioned as the door opened and Richie sauntered casually into the room.  “Don’t put too many songs on it.  David has some kind of special plans for all of us after the show, so we need to get out of here at a reasonable hour.”  Rachel leaned close and gave him a simple peck on the lips before she stood.  “Please.”   

The first thing Richie did was immediately bend over the partial agenda of songs for the night, speaking as he read.  “Yeah, I was just comin’ in to see if you two lovebirds had heard about Dave’s – “ His head snapped up in mid-sentence and he glared past Rachel at Jon while stabbing his index finger in the same direction.  “You’re doin’ ‘Runaway’ tonight?  Fucker!  You know I hate that song!”  

Rachel slid from between the two men, lest she get caught in some kind of juvenile tussle.  One never knew what could happen around this bunch of goofy men.

“Why?” she questioned Richie, perplexed.  That would’ve probably been one of her top suggestions if it hadn’t already been on the list.  “I love that one!  As soon as I hear those first notes I’m transported back to the first time I heard it on the nightstand clock radio at my grandma’s house.  It’s the beginning of the Bon Jovi fairy tale, for Heaven’s sake!  I can’t believe you don’t like it!”

Jon rolled his eyes.  At the rate he was going this evening, his gaze was going to permanently stick to the ceiling.  “He didn’t write it, so it’s like a stick up his ass when we do it.”

“I see,” Rachel replied noncomittally.  So, no matter how close they were, there was a little jealousy there.  Interesting.  “Kinda like I get a stick up MY ass when I hear the intro to ‘Wanted’.”

“First of all, I do not get a stick up my ass,” Richie protested, to which Jon’s eyes rolled.  Again.  “And second of all, seriously??  How can you not like ‘Wanted’?  Not to be immodest, seeing as I’m the co-writer, but c’mon!  That’s one of the best known rock anthems in history.  They’ll write about it in our obituaries!”  He looked at Jon with incredulity.  “What the fuck’s wrong with your girl, Jonny?”

“She’s tired of hearing about us riding a steel horse – blah, blah, blah.” 

Richie snorted as the back of Rachel’s hand connected with Jon’s shoulder.

“Well, listen sister…  Lemme just clue you in.  You clearly don’t know the common and socially acceptable reaction to that song, so I’m going to educate you.  When ‘Wanted’ is played, you stand to your feet and give it the homage it deserves,” Richie tutored patiently.  “Got it?”

“What I’ve got is confirmation that you’ve lost your mind,” she teased right back.  “And furthermore-“

“You two cut that shit out,” Jon interrupted grumpily.  “I’ve got to get this thing finished and you’re distracting me.  Rich, if there’s not anything else you want, then get the hell out.”

“As a matter of fact there is something else I wanted.  You,” he pointed at Jon, “Don’t run us over with a bunch of extra talking and encore stuff.  David wants to be showered and out of here by midnight.”

“I was just telling him that,” Rachel chimed in.  “And, personally, I’m ready for an early night.  It’s been a long couple of days, so let’s get this show over with, go out and relax.”

“Alright, alright, I don’t need you two yahoos directing my show and lopping it off prematurely just because you want to go play in London, thank you very much,”  Jon said with an amused shake of his head.  “Now, both of you, get outta here so I can finish my job.”