Chapter 10

No comments at all on the last chapter? :0(   

I hope that doesn't mean it totally sucked!  LOL!  Maybe this one will be more to your liking.  Thanks for reading!! :0)

As soon as Allegra had exited the room, Dorothea turned to Jon.  “This is ridiculous.  Two nights in a row now she was supposed to have dinner with us and begs off at the last minute after dealing with kitchen issues. Can’t you find a more appropriate ‘job’ for her?  Something a little less Cinderella-ish?”

He looked at his wife.  “It’s not like the two of you have been best friends your whole lives.  She’s another family member who is working for me, and she’s informed me that she doesn’t NEED a protector.  So, what’s the problem?”

“Your other family members are doing what they want to do, and enjoying it.  She’s obviously not enjoying this.”

“It was a mutual decision.  You know that she and I decided this together.  ”

She had her suspicions about that, and decided to call him on it.  “Did you?  Or did you steamroll her into it like you do everything else?”

“Not now Dot,” he warned, dismissing her. 

An uncomfortable silence had fallen over the group.  The Bongiovis didn’t usually have their disagreements in public, so the band members were unsure how to handle the awkward situation.

Alejandra had no such reservations.  After looking back and forth between the pair several times, she nudged Tico.  “Tell them.”

He shook his head slightly, indicating that he didn’t think it was appropriate.  “This is between Jon and Allegra,” he told her quietly.

“Bullshit.  I just made it fair game.  What is it Ali?”  Dot asked.

Alejandra gave her husband a brief glance as he went back to his salad.  “Tico told me that he thought she’d be better suited to PR.  Maybe special fan events.  Does Matt need someone?”

In response to Dorothea’s smug look, Jon sighed and sought out his drummer’s gaze.  “What makes you think so, T?”

After slowly placing his fork back on the table, Tico leaned forward on his elbows.  “All I said was that it seems like her talents are being wasted.” 

There was no immediate response, so he went on with his explanation.  “We spent some time together on the trip out and she told me she’s trying to find something that feels like it fits for her.  Talking to her, it’s plain to see that she genuinely cares for people.”  He shrugged, not really wanting to make unnecessary waves in the camp.  “I just wondered if it wouldn’t it make more sense to have her dealing with the public.”

“Well, I don’t see how cooking for us is helping her find a career, if that’s what she’s looking for.”  Hugh interjected.  Kelly put her arm around his shoulders supportively and turned her eyes to Jon. 

Lexi dug her nails into David’s thigh, causing him to jump.

“Ow!  What the hell was that for?”  he exclaimed, rubbing the wounded area. 

She didn’t utter a word, but her blue eyes met his. They may not have been married yet, but he read the message as clearly as if she’d shouted it at him.  “Richie still needs a personal assistant,” he threw out,   earning himself an approving smile from his fiancée. 

“No.”  The guitarist’s response was firm.

Dot thought to herself that it could serve more than one purpose if Allegra were Richie’s PA.  “Why not?” 

Jon’s wife could be an intimidating woman when she chose to be.  She’d learned from her husband, after all.  But that didn’t deter Richie.  He’d never minded going head to head with her, and he didn’t flinch as he looked at her.  “There’s no reason why, just no.”

“Leave Rich alone,” Jon told her, accustomed to refereeing the two people closest to him.  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow, and we’ll come up with something,” he promised as the servers brought out the prime rib entrees, led by Chef Lucy. 

She served Richie personally and with a flourish.  “Let me know when you’re ready for dessert,” she murmured enticingly in his ear.

“Thank you darlin’.  I’ll be sure and do that,” he assured her with a wink.

And then David couldn’t contain himself any longer.  “So Lucy, tell us what happened to dinner,” he invited.

***** 

Nothing was better than a hot bubble bath, as any woman could tell you.  It wasn’t about getting clean, it was about relaxing.  If you wanted clean, you had to go with a hot shower, but for relaxation it was bubble bath all the way.

Room service sent up an incredibly good bottle of wine, Allegra thought as she sipped the Bordeaux.  It had been ages and ages since she’d had wine, but she found that she still appreciated the rich flavor against her tongue.

What a decadent treat!  Perfect for contemplating life.  And that was a good thing, since it was time to decide what she wanted out if it. 

She’d told Jon that cooking wasn’t her strong suit, but he hadn’t listened.  Well, now he would have to.  Dinner had burst into flames – that was pretty friggin’ hard to ignore.  And it was stressing her out.  Worrying about what she was going to serve, accounting for all their various tastes and making sure everything turned out. 

Nope.  I’m done with that.  If it’s cook or go home, then I’ll go home with no hard feelings.

Allegra swirled the wine in her glass thoughtfully.  She’d rather work with people.  People and their varying opinions and personalities made her feel alive, and she very much needed that. 

Truthfully, she would love to have someone to just take care of – maybe even a child.  Not necessarily a baby, but any age.  Even a teen.  Like Tessa.  Her eyes started to mist as she thought of the girl.

Tessa had been fourteen when Allegra had met her.  She’d made her way into the foster care system shortly after her parents had died in a tragic automobile accident.  Teen angst coupled with her rage at the circumstances of life had made Tessa hard to love.  But Allegra had understood.  Tessa felt like she had to be tough on the outside to keep her soft underbelly covered.  She couldn’t risk being vulnerable, just to get hurt again.

Allegra had counseled the girl over a period of months.  Progress was slow and minimal at best, but they kept moving forward.  Tessa had just begun showing a little trust in her when things had spun out of control.

She shook her head vehemently, wiping a few stray tears from her cheeks.  No!  There’s no point in reliving it all again.  It doesn’t change anything.

The bathwater had turned cool and her wineglass was empty.  Pulling the plug on the tub, she reached for one of the fluffy hotel towels, wrapped herself up in it and made her way out of the bathroom. 

It was definitely time to crawl in bed.  Rummaging around in her bag, she located a pair of panties and her favorite sleepwear – an old oversized Care Bears t-shirt. 

I shouldn’t waste the rest of that wine, she thought as she brought the shirt over her head.  It didn’t take long to grab the bottle from the desk, refill her empty glass, and put it on the nightstand.  Sliding her bare legs under the covers, she settled back against the headboard.

Nights were the hardest, Allegra realized as she sipped.  When she could sleep it was okay, but more and more often, she wasn’t able to do that.  That was probably why she had been making her sunrise journeys these last few days.  With the sunrise was the promise of a new day – a new day full of hope, where anything was possible.  It was the only time that she felt an inkling of her former faith in the world.

Her mind wandered to Montana.  A meaningless affair might be just what she needed, regardless of what Jon thought.  She bet he’d had enough sex in his lifetime for a dozen men.  That made it easy for him to be her conscience.  HE wasn’t missing out on anything.

Resting her glass on her stomach, she closed her eyes.  The need for human contact was so overwhelming sometimes.  Just the intimacy of knowing there was someone there to lean on, for a minute anyway.

The image of chocolate brown eyes and full, pouting lips teased her mind as she imagined long strong fingers stroking along her back.  She could see the muscles of his arms as she lightly raked her nails up to his bicep.  The likeness of a winged guitar fell under her touch. 

She sat up abruptly, sloshing wine over the rim of the glass and onto the comforter.

Montana didn’t have a tattoo of a winged guitar. 

Richie did. 

She groaned and filled her glass again.  It was time to stop thinking for a while. 

The clock showed that it was three in the morning when the last drop was emptied from the bottle.

 *****

It was three in the morning when Richie pushed the elevator button for his floor, feeling old and discontent.  Lucy had just dropped him back at the hotel – much sooner than she would have liked. 

She was cute.  A petite, blonde, buxom beauty.  His cock should’ve been hard just at the thought of her lips wrapped around it.  Instead he’d had to work at feigning any interest at all, eventually blaming his lack of ‘attention’ on fatigue from the show.  He’d apologized and asked her to bring him back to the hotel.

Dammit, this was what they did on tours – what they were supposed to do. 

Well, not the last tour.  Or the tours while he was married.  He may have been a lot of things, but he was always faithful to Heather. 

He supposed being married was making it hard to go back to the groupies.  Having someone who knew more than your name and profession made sex a lot more satisfying. 

Riche admittedly enjoyed the attention of the girls who sought him out.  It was still a rush to know a beautiful woman wanted you.  Unfortunately, that seemed to be where the rush ended.

He reached into his jeans pocket to pull out his room key realizing, My God, I must’ve been 34 the last time I was single and on tour.  No wonder this isn’t working.  I’m too old for this groupie shit.

“Lay your hands on me, lay your hands on meeeeee!”  A loud, drunken female voice interrupted his epiphany.

What the hell?

The voice was coming from somewhere just down the hall from his.  This floor was all Jovi, so it had to be one of the crew.  Maybe one of the wardrobe girls?

She suddenly changed songs.  “Diamond ring.  Diamond ri-iii-iing…”  

At least she can carry a tune. 

He listened carefully until he found which door housed the diva.  Should he knock and interrupt her?  Deciding it was better him than an angry crew member, he tapped gently on the door and waited.  The only reply was some mumbling and then “…my loving cup.”

Whoever it was evidently didn’t know the lyrics to a whole song.  Or at least that’s what he thought.  Then he very plainly heard:

Roulette you're goin' round in a spinnnn,
Caught up in a game you just can't win
Roule-eeee-tte, you're just a fantas-eeeee
It's everything that you want it to be
Play the numbers one by one, fire the shot and the damage is do-oone
Restless lovers pay the price, cheating hearts don't think twi-iice.”

Fuck.  It had to be HER.

He knocked louder. 

Allegra cheerily tottered her way over to answer the insistent knocking.  That was really good wine!  Wonder if it’s too late to get another bottle?  She pulled the door open and held onto the knob to keep from falling backward as it swung toward her.  She smiled widely at her visitor.  “RICH-ieeee Sam-BOR-a!”  she greeted him.

It was the first time he’d ever seen her hair down.  It cascaded around her shoulders, falling to her obviously unrestrained breasts.  He took in her glassy eyes, flushed cheeks and plump, wine stained lips.  She wasn’t the prickly woman who’d been giving him shit all week.  This woman was soft, warm and rumpled.  Talk about a cure for ‘attention’ deficit disorder.  Holy hell. 

“Darlin’, you need to keep it down a little,”  he told her quietly.  “Not everyone’s partying at this time of night.” 

“Ya gotta live a little, ya know?”  She leaned her elbow against the door frame.  The movement raised the hem on her nightshirt enough to let him know she had on pink cotton panties.  “I’d offer you a drink, but I drinked it all,” she informed him with a satisfied grin.

He chuckled silently.  “I can see that.  Don’t worry about it.  I just wanted to warn you to keep it down so that you don’t piss off the neighbors.”

Her forehead furrowed in consternation.  “Was I being loud?  I didn’t mean to be.”

“You were singing a little loud.  But at least you were in tune,”  he teased her. 

She didn’t respond and when he noted the direction of her gaze, he realized it was his mouth that she was staring so intently at.

“Can I tell you something?”  Her request was low, almost a whisper.

He wasn't sure this was a good idea considering her current state, but he nodded anyway.

“You are an amazing singer.”  She leaned forward and ran her finger up along the edge of his half-buttoned shirt.  “Your voice is sooo, so sexy.” 

Sort of like hers was right then?  Again, no ‘attention’ deficit problem now.  She was better than Ritalin.  Jesus!

He cleared his throat and took half a step back from her.  “I think you’d better go grab some sleep.  Jon’s going to be looking for you in the morning.”

She followed his retreat – or tried to.  Stumbling, she fell into him and found her face pressed against his chest.

His arms went immediately around her waist in an effort to steady her.  She didn’t fall, but her knees still felt like water and he wasn’t sure she would be able to stand on her own.

“Dammit,” he mumbled before angling her body to the side and bending to place his right arm behind her knees.  He easily lifted her, shouldering his way through the door and into her room.

As she heard him push the door closed with his foot, Allegra took a moment to absorb and appreciate the human contact she’d been dreaming of only a short time before.  Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder and she curled the rest of her body instinctively into him. 

The distance to the bed was no more than half a dozen steps and Richie covered it quickly.  He leaned over to deposit her on the sheets and tried to stand upright before he registered the fact that her arms were clasped tightly around his neck.

“Allegra, let go,” he instructed gently.

She loosened her hold but still didn’t release him.  Her eyes sought his as she whispered, “Would you hold me just for a minute?” 

Richie hesitated as he considered the pools of blue before him, so familiar.   All those years in close quarters had made him somewhat of an expert in identifying the emotions that revealed themselves in Jon’s eyes, and this was eerily similar.  He’d only seen this vulnerability a couple of times, but its rarity only intensified the effect.  

She couldn’t stand the silence any longer.  Her voice barely audible, she implored, “Please?”