Chatper 62

“Man, you left your ‘Prince Charming’ in your other pants.”

Richie Sambora had his problems and issues, but he would never have made the mistake Jon had just confessed to making.  You just did NOT cancel plans with your hot, new girlfriend to take the ex-wife and kids to the biggest social event of the year.  How could Jon not know that?

The guitarist had been the one blessed with the gift of charm, instinctively knowing how to treat the girls and lure them in.  Jon, on the other hand, had always played on his good looks to snag the ladies.  While he was smoother than silk onstage with just the right amount of flirtation and sexual innuendo, offstage he was a klutz with the opposite sex. 

According to Jon, he’d left Rachel’s the night before and hadn’t spoken to her since. His initial excuse was that he’d been busy writing ever since Richie had arrived earlier in the day and now, well… He seemed to be too drunk to give a shit. 

Or too stubborn.

“Yeah.  And my Cinderella feels like she stayed too long at the Ball.”  Jon uncorked another bottle of wine – their  fourth since dinner – and refilled both glasses before slumping back onto the couch of his famed Pub, The Shoe Inn. 

“There’s a song in there somewhere, my friend.”

Caramel hair shook as he dropped his head to the back of the leather sofa and barked with laughter.  “Yeah, probably.  Maybe we can spin it into a happy ending and it’ll be the next big hit.”

“I don’t mind tellin’ ya, I think you stepped on your dick on this one….” 

He’d seen the lead singer with a lot of girls over the years – before, during and after his marriage – but it was unusual for Richie to see his friend and partner so hung up on a woman.   In fact, he was so hung up on Rachel that Richie found it hard to imagine him making such a dumbass blunder.

“She’s over-the-top excited about a stupid Christmas party at Warren Buffet’s, but she couldn’t care less about the Inauguration, the Gala  - none of that shit impresses her.  She’s not remotely interested in politics, Rich.   I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“It should concern you that those few words make it crystal clear to me what the problem is and yet you don’t see it yourself.  You hurt her fuckin’ feelings!  She wasn’t going with you so she could be seen on your arm, she was going because you’re into all that shit.  And you dissed her so you could take your ex-wife.  This is one of those times you are definitely not the brains of this operation.”

“Oh, hell Rich… Who knows what Rachel thinks?  She is the most stubborn, hard-to-read woman I’ve ever known.” 

Jon’s frustrated sigh and complete lack of clarity on the matter of his love life was entertaining as hell.   It wasn’t often that, outside of their musical partnership, Richie was the rational expert.  But women?  He practically had a PhD in women - they were his area of expertise, second only to his guitars, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

“It wasn’t too long ago you were telling me you’d never met anybody like her and never had the whole package with one woman, but you had found it with Rachel.  She was perfection with tits.  But now?  Now she’s stubborn and hard-to-read.”  Richie reached across the arm of his chair to slap his buddy on the leg.  “You know why you think she’s stubborn?  Because she’s not a ‘yes man’.  She tells you the truth.  Everybody needs someone to tell them the truth.  I mean, seriously man, you gotta have somebody that will tell you when you’re being a dick.”

Jon skimmed his unshaven face with his fingers before rising from the couch to signal end of the evening.   “All I know is I’ve had so much to drink that that entire conversation sounds like it needs to be put to music.  What melody goes with ‘You gotta have somebody that will tell you when you’re being a dick’?  That sounds like a hit to me.”

After a grunted “G’night” inside the main house, the two men went to their separate quarters.

From the window of the Pub and based on the darkness of her house, Jon had taken note that Rachel had gone to bed.  She hadn’t called him all day, and now she was curled up in her bed without him.  Worse than that, Jon was going to have to face his bed without her. 

He might be drunk…  Well,  he was drunk.  Very drunk.  But he wasn’t drunk enough to rid himself of the thought – the certainty – that if he lost Rachel, he’d regret it every day for the rest of his life… and that she would be on his mind when he died. 

Those lyrics were in one of his songs, but he was much too drunk to remember which one.

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

Rachel stood in the family room of ‘her’ house admiring the Christmas tree that had just been delivered. 

The previous day had been hectic with work and it was past nine o’clock at night before she’d had a break and realized Jon hadn’t even tried to get in touch with her that day.   When she’d gone upstairs to bed, she could see lights on at the recording studio across the road and briefly considered calling him.  She came to the conclusion that since he hadn’t felt the need to right the wrongs, she was not going to make the first move.  He owed her that much. 

Doesn’t he?

Today, however, had been relatively easy and, with the gates now operating, Rachel had both the time and ability to get out.  The downside to working so much from home was that days could go by without leaving the house and she was not in the mood to be cooped up right now.   It didn’t much matter to her where she ended up as long as it was out of this house.

So where did she end up?  Rachel found herself at a greasy little diner.  It was the same diner Jon had taken her to the weekend she met his parents and kids for the first time, but she shrugged off those memories, trying to convince herself that she was enjoying the breakfast and solitude. 

Enjoying breakfast and solitude included taking in the scenery out the diner window and, across the road from the restaurant, she discovered there was a Christmas tree lot.   Rachel impulsively decided she was not going to wait for Jon before indulging in her favorite pastime of the holiday season – decorating the tree. 

Ordinarily, she was the kind of girl who wanted to see every tree on every lot in town.  Today, she knew she was just going through the motions when she bought the first tree she saw, paying extra for the vendor to install lights and deliver the Noble Fir to the house.

 

With boxes of ornaments from the local home interior store stacked on the floor, the usually delightful task of decorating for the holidays now seemed more like a chore.  She just was not in the mood.  Even at that, an obstinate Rachel decided that Christmas music would surely solve that, and the local cable TV servicer had a channel designated for holiday music videos.  Switching the TV on, as well as the gas fireplace to further enhance the scene,  she began to unbox her array of ornaments.

Between answering emails and phone calls, none of which was from her rock star neighbor, Rachel had created a reasonably festive tree by early evening. 

Next on the list:  wrapping presents. 

The kitchen island was covered in boxes, paper and bows.   She was doing her best to find her holiday spirit and ignore that it was the end of the second full day of silence from Jon.  Deciding her holiday spirit might be lurking in the bottom of a bottle of tequila, Rachel decided that the addition of a healthy-sized margarita would surely enhance the mood and chase the bah humbug out of her. 

The lime was sliced and the rim of the glass had just been salted when Jon’s unmistakable voice came piping through the television.  His crooning declaration that  “bells will be ringing” had her head snapping up fast enough to cause a case of whiplash.

Are you kidding me?

Based on the length of his hair and the earrings in his ears, the video was obviously old, but the  hands that roamed over Cindy Crawford’s body looked just the same.  That slow sensuality was keenly reminiscent of the way he’d moved his hands over her body a hundred different times.  The two-dimensional image taunted her and elicited an unwanted stirring somewhere deep inside her. 

The time it took to locate the remote control to the TV amongst all the wrapping materials only twisted the knife and forced her to listen to more of his sultry Christmas caroling.   The man whose voice she hadn’t heard in two days was taunting her as he seduced a supermodel for the cameras as she plundered through the mess.  Throwing aside the sweaters for her dad and brother-in-law, the elusive remote was unearthed.  Rachel snatched it up and aimed it at the TV, stabbing the power button before the damn thing could scorch her fingertips. 

Blessed silence fell over the house as Jon was cut-off in mid-phrase. 

Desperate to keep her holiday cheer on track, she resorted to the video archives of YouTube and user XMAScheerio’s thoughtfully shared playlist.  The quality might not be as good, but it would  allow her the same access to sounds of the season.  Re-setting her sails and righting the disheveled heap of gifts, she forced herself to get  back into the groove with videos of Elvis, Mariah Carey and Bing Crosby playing in the background.

Her wrapping was quickly completed under their melodic watch and the last of the colorful paper had just been stashed in the kitchen pantry when the sounds of jingle bells rang.  Not the song, but actual jingling bells tinkled from her speakers. 

Something about the sounds of those bells had always brought a child-like giddiness to possess her.   It was enough to make her look up at the computer screen with delighted anticipation just as, once again, Jon’s familiar voice called out.  “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Good Lord!

He started off with “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town”, which would’ve been bad enough, but then he went into “Run, Run Rudolph” in full-on rock star mode.  He hadn’t gotten far into the first verse before she found herself stifling a reluctant grin.  

He was cute.  In a hot and sexy kind of way.  In all their time together she’d never seen him perform, and his appeal was undeniable.  The subtle way he moved his hips was oddly arousing.  His toned arms glistened with sweat and were and oh-so-familiar.  

And he was hers.

Or was he?  He hadn’t called, after all.

Neither have you!

They hadn’t reached out to one another in two solid days – unheard of for them even on the busiest of days. 

Rachel’s heart began to race as she watched him move about the stage, recalling every line of his body, every freckle even.  And especially the darker freckle so far below the “V” on his abdomen that it never showed in any picture. 

The desire to touch him was almost more than she could resist. 

This is the same man who ripped your heart out 48 hours ago and hasn’t lifted a finger to make it right.

Her quarrelsome thoughts were thrown aside and her attention returned to the video. 

He was having fun, his mood playful and he seemed… happy.   When Rachel recalled their recent days, she knew he’d been none of those things.  Where they’d once been relaxed and loving with each other they were now hostile, hurtful and – worse still – silent . 

You aren’t completely blameless either.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter who was right or who was wrong, it only mattered that they were together.   She could fix that.  After all, he was only a phone call away. 

She grabbed her cell phone and dialed his number, anticipation so extreme she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.  It took forever for the first ring to go through, and as soon as it did she started pacing a restless path around the island.

Come on, baby…  Answer the damn phone.

He had to answer.  She’d broken down and called, for God’s sake.  If she was willing to take that first step, then he was obligated to answer.  Right??

It took a total of six heart-stopping, hair-graying, life-shortening rings before Rachel finally heard his voice.  Her heart leapt into her chest and an apology was on her lips when she realized it was only the damn voicemail greeting. 

Fuck!

Dejectedly disconnecting the call without leaving a message, Rachel put the phone down and stood with her hands on the counter, numb with sadness.   

He doesn’t even want to talk to you!

The Christmas video ended and she was momentarily distracted from her dejection as an entire world of Bon Jovi media appeared at the sidebar.  Intrigued,  Rachel scrolled down, both amazed and impressed at the sheer volume of material.  Song after song after song.  Professional music videos, fan videos, live performances, studio tracks.  The list went on for what seemed like days.

A random click brought a leather-clad Jon center stage and in the limelight for “Great Balls of Fire”.
 

It wasn’t a close-up shot of him, but more of a small man in the center of a huge stage, in the middle of a huge arena.  She was stunned at the number of people in the audience.   Stunned. 

The song itself was relatively short, but for a few moments after the song ended Rachel was introduced to the indisputable charisma of the man who now seemed to want nothing to do with her.   He prowled the stage like a lion on the hunt, commanding the crowd to rise.   “Get up out of your seats!  This isn’t television, people! Let’s go!” 

She watched in awe as they rose to their feet, willing to give the singer whatever he demanded of them.

Beyond noticing the impact Jon had on the crowd, Rachel took notice of the great sound of the music and the band, realizing she’d never shown much interest – well, no interest – in his professional life or accomplishments.  She didn’t even own his latest record.  In fact, she couldn’t tell you the name of it if her life depended on it.  She’d given him no pat on the back, nor kudos for his achievements – outside of singing his praises in the bedroom. 

She had taken him for granted and began to wonder if that was what made him seem to still cling to his ex-wife.  Dorothea obviously gave him something she didn’t.  Was this the gap in Jon’s life that Rachel couldn’t seem to fill?  Whether it was or it wasn’t, there was a side to Jon and his life that Rachel knew absolutely nothing about, and hadn’t bothered to show any interest in. 

The same couldn’t be said of Jon.   He’d been interested in her business life and accomplishments from the beginning.  

Dumbfounded, Rachel marveled at her new found crystal clarity.  It was as if someone had removed a blindfold from her eyes and allowed her to see the chaos she’d created in her blindness.  This mess was her own fault. 

No wonder he wouldn’t answer her call.  She’d been a heinous bitch!