Chapter 14

Six o’clock.  I’ve still got time to waste.

Richie was in his dressing room warming up and reviewing the set list for the evening.  It looked like they were going to be hitting the new album hard tonight, with six tracks, covering a wide range of musical style.  He guessed Jon was trying to see what was going to work best live.  The crowd’s reaction would determine what songs would become regular offerings for the remainder of the tour.

He strummed his guitar lightly, propping one hip on the dressing table.  His long leg swung easily, keeping time as he picked out the chords for Superman Tonight.  It had been stuck in his head all day for some reason.

Going back to the set list, he noted several ‘standard’ hits, alongside of a couple of rarities - Get Ready and Only Lonely.  There was no doubt they’d been added to the rotation with Allegra in mind.   

Allegra.

He wondered if she would even be at the show tonight.  She was in the building during sound check, and frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t at least seen her.  Well, a little surprised.  No one knew better than Richie about not wanting to face someone the morning after a binge - especially if your recollection was a little fuzzy.  He wished his weren’t quite so vivid.

Promptly pushing away the physical memories of last night, Richie focused instead on the uncensored comments she’d made about his attitude.  

He’d spent a long while on the beach that afternoon considering her words, almost admitting that she had a valid point.  His life was an undisputed debacle during what he’d come to think of as the Triple-D period – divorce, death and Denise.  As he’d told Allegra, for a time, pleasing himself was all he’d done – to the point of getting so caught up in himself that he became completely self-indulgent.

He felt a little sick, as he did every time he recalled the Richie who had looked and sounded like him – but wasn’t him.  It was ugly and embarrassing, and there was no way in hell he wanted to repeat it.  So yes, he probably had become a little paranoid about what he said and did.

That’s why he’d first started relying on cues from those around him to gauge the appropriateness of his behavior.   If his friends thought he was doing okay, then he was.  It worked well for him.  Or it had until a few off-handed remarks from Allegra implied that it merely highlighted his lack of self-confidence.  So now he had to deal with the recognition that he hadn’t regained his own trust – and the uncertainty of whether or not he ever would.    

In the midst of his self-psychoanalysis, the dressing room door swung open and Jon blew in, arms waving.  “She’s going to be the death of me, man.  I thought it was gonna be Steph, but she’s going to beat her to it.”

“I guess you’re talking about Allegra?”  Shaking off his thoughts, Richie stood and moved to put his guitar back in its case.

Hands on hips, Jon huffed, “Who else?  You knew she was here at the venue a little while ago?”  He waited for Richie’s acknowledgement before continuing, “I made her a couple of job offers, we talked and she left my dressing room.  Everything was fine – more or less.  I swear to God, in ten minutes’ time, Tony’s calling me because she’s flipped out on Rew.”

“Flipped out about what?”

He threw his hands up again, this time in exasperation.  “That’s the thing.  Nobody fucking knows!  Rew said she started acting all psycho when she found out she’d have to ride in the van with a couple of Tony’s guys.  Then she took off in a taxi.  But she wouldn’t answer her phone, so Tony hightails it over to the hotel to talk to her.  And what does she say?  She tells him she was just pissed about not being able to find a ride back.”

He opened his mouth to give Jon the words that would smooth his ruffled feathers.  Then Richie’s mind flitted back to his introspection from moments before.  Maybe he was overdramatizing, but if he had to choose between having his friend’s approval or his respect, he chose respect. 

“You know, Bro, she’s a big girl.  Did you stop to consider that you might be blowing this out of proportion?  If she wanted you – or Tony – to know, she would tell you.  Why don’t you stop worrying like a mother hen over everything she says and does?”

It was one of those rare occasions when Jon’s temper flared directly at Richie.  “Fuck you, Sambora!  You don’t have a clue!  She’s MY responsibility as long as she’s out here!  I know you don’t GET that because responsibility isn’t exactly your thing, but that’s how it is.  When I figure out what caused her to suddenly drop out of her own life and onto my doorstep – and can actually BELIEVE her when she’s says it’s okay – I MIGHT stop worrying over every little thing.  Until then, I’ll make sure it doesn’t interfere with your fucking happy-go-lucky lifestyle!”

Richie felt a stab in his area of his chest.  It was hard not to take that personally, because it was intended to be, but he knew Jon was wound up.  This time was to be reserved for relaxation and channeling himself into the upcoming performance.  Allegra’s erratic behavior had intruded upon that sanctity.

Masking any evidence of hurt feelings, he appeared unmoved when he said, “Calm the fuck down, Kidd.  I understand responsibility quite well, thank you very much.  And, in about an hour, you’re responsible for the happiness and pleasure of several thousand people who help write our paychecks.  So get your head in the game and concentrate on warming up your vocal cords and ass muscles.  Go have some tea and chill.  This shit will be here when we’re done.”

Jon took a couple of deep breaths, his temper not yet spent.  Ice blue daggers were still firing from his eyes, and he stood in an aggressive stance.

Richie met his stare, unimpressed.  “Yeah, yeah, I know that didn’t make you any less pissed.  You can beat the shit out of me afterward, if you’re still in the mood.  Just remember you’re screwing with your income if you break my hands.”

THAT finally got through Jon’s anger, and he had to chuckle.  Richie understood him – always had.  It was a major component in the songwriting chemistry they shared.  Rich often knew what kind of emotion Jon was trying to pull from a song, even when it wasn’t clear in his own mind. 

He grunted and pulled his guitarist into a man hug.  “You’re lucky I love ya, man, or I would’ve put your ass on the ground.”

It then was Richie’s turn to laugh.  He returned the hug, then looked at Jon with one eyebrow cocked.  “Yeah, right Mr. Bad Ass.  You and what army?”

Already halfway out the door, Jon merely offered up a Jersey salute in response.

∞∞∞∞∞

Allegra swayed back and forth to the music, as caught up in it as any of the avid lifetime fans surrounding her.  It was the mid-point of the show and Richie was on vocals to allow Jon a break, she assumed.  Her pleasure in hearing him sing hadn’t been a fluke.  It once again spoke to her on a gut-level with its bluesy drawl and deep, growling vibrations. 

“Words can’t say what love can do.  I-I’ll … be… there… for… you…”

He stepped away from the microphone in preparation for a short exhibition of his guitar mastery, stopping about ten feet from where she stood.  She was eight rows from the stage, but positioned directly in front of him with an unobstructed view.  His eyes met hers with a fleeting grin that lasted no more than a millisecond, and Allegra proceeded to watch Richie Sambora make love to the guitar that bore his name. 

There was no other way to describe it.  The glimpse of utter confidence on his face was a complete turn on, because knew he was going to make the instrument sing in a way that no one else could.  His nimble fingers danced across the frets as, head nodding, he primed for a full-on sensory assault.  

A look of ecstasy swept over his face as he dropped his left shoulder, rolling forward with a grind into the body of the instrument.   Caressing the neck, he arched himself over the guitar, shoulders tense and determination written on his face.  Ahhh…. There was that sweet spot the solo had been begging him to find!   He plucked deliberately and briskly at the strings, rhythmically rolling his hips as he sought the powerful musical gratification only his capable hands could provide.  He manipulated the neck with a firm grip, and with a few more clever taps of the fingers and one last swivel of his hips, fulfilled his desire.**

Allegra sat straight up in bed, heart racing and gasping for breath.

Holy Mary, Mother of God!

Her room phone pealed loudly, causing her to jump again.  She realized that the first ring must’ve woken her from that very vivid dream.

“Hello?”  He voice was breathless.

“Mornin’ beautiful!  Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, and as a bonus, you scared the life out of me.  Who is this and what time is it?”  The sun was shining, creating a glare on the alarm clock.

The caller’s voice dropped an octave and asked, “Who do you want it to be, darlin’?”

She groaned as she finally saw it was 11:15.  “If we’re going to play stupid guessing games I want it to be coffee.”

A deep heartfelt sigh escaped and her caller lamented, “Another one longing for the darker things in life.  It’s a shame really…”

“Okay Joker, what do you want?”  Who else could be so theatrical?

“Smart girl.”  The grin was evident in his voice.  “I knew you’d get it eventually.”

“So does that mean you’ll GET to the point?”

“As you wish milady,” he said agreeably. “Just wanted to let you know that Lexi put the kibosh on our digital music extravaganza today.”

“Huh?”  That’s right.  She was supposed to go to his room this afternoon to find out about modern music.  “Oh.  Okay.  That’s fine.  Is everything okay?  Are we rescheduling?”

“But of course we’ll reschedule!  I won’t let you stay musically deprived!  And all is well.  The girls all just want to spend the day with their hunks-a-burnin’ love before we move on to Seattle and they go back home.  Lexi and I have plans for the  beach.  Not sure what the rest of the gang is up to, but we’re all going to get together for dinner tonight.  Ouch Lexi!”

David was no longer speaking into the phone and she could hear murmurings of a woman’s voice.  “I’m going to!  Jeez!”  He once again directed himself to Allegra, saying, “My darling fiancée wants me to invite you to join us for dinner – which I was going to do anyway.”

Allegra could see the exchange between them in her head and chuckled.  “Thanks for the invitation, but how about I get back to you about dinner AFTER I’ve had breakfast?”

“Suit yourself.  Lexi says to come down to the beach if you don’t have any other plans.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, but I think I’m going shopping.  Do you have a sec to fill me in on what I need for my ‘digital music extravaganza’?”

He laughed.  “At this point, that’s like asking what you’re going to need for brain surgery! You thought music was still on TAPES.  I could tell you, but chances are you’d have no idea what I was talking about.”

“Okay, fine.  Can you at least tell me how much I’m looking at spending?”  She thought Jon would give her at least a small paycheck for the few days she had put in.

“Well…  MP3 player, computer, 3G card.”  David mentally calculated.  “I’d say we can probably get by for less than a grand.”

She choked on her astonishment.  To listen to some songs?  Are you kidding me?  “Is that all??  You know what, I don’t think I like the band that much anymore.”

He laughed.  Sarcasm was his mother tongue and he was impressed by her fluency. “Ohhh!  I’m wounded that your heart has a price tag on it.  What’s the matter?  Big Bad Boss won’t give you any money?”

Sarcasm morphed into insult.  “I’ve never asked.  Why would I?  I’m not his child.  I can take care of my own expenses, and I don’t believe this one is currently justifiable.”

“Meee-owwww kitty cat!  Retract your claws before you hurt yourself!  No worries.  I think I’ve got an extra iPod around here someplace, and you can use my computer.  No muss, no fuss.”

When would she stop worrying that they all saw her as a charity case?  David didn’t know.  “Crap.  Sorry Dave.  Touchy subject I guess.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”  His voice once again went to the side.  “O-KAY already!  Lexi says we’re being worse than teenage girls on the phone.  Catch ya later, Legs!”

“Okay Dave.  Tell Lexi I said hi.”

She hung up the phone and threw the covers back, moving toward the in-room coffee pot.

A thousand dollars to listen to music?  Seriously?!?

If that was the case, she definitely couldn’t afford to hang with Bon Jovi – or be a fan apparently.  Jon had never mentioned money when telling her about her job options the day before, but Allegra was confident that a thousand dollars was an extravagant purchase regardless of what the pay scale was. 

Laughing to herself, she thought, Although a thousand dollars a week would go a long way toward making a personal assistant job more palatable.  Even Richie’s assistant.

Oh my God.

Allegra started in remembrance, almost dropping the tiny coffee pot to the floor.    Did that erotic guitar solo really happen or had her sexually deprived mind conjured it up?  She had thoroughly enjoyed the concert last night, no doubt.  But she didn’t think she’d absorbed enough of it to be able to recreate that kind of memory in Technicolor.  Especially since logic dictated that the solo couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds, and everything in the dream had moved in sensual, slow motion.  She squirmed, thinking about the look on Richie’s face as he pressed himself suggestively against the guitar.

Damn hormones, she cursed.  Time to hit the showers…

**Author’s Note:  Thank you to the superb camera-womanship of Fiction Mistress, who captured the footage inspiring Allegra’s dream.  Fiction Mistress is a JBJ girl, so I’m especially grateful that she recorded Richie’s song that night.  Here’s the link, if you want to see the stuff dreams are made of.  The referenced guitar solo starts just at the 4:00 mark…  Thanks again FM!  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=229it0C_u2g