Sixty-Seven

“Knock ‘em dead, Baby Girl,” Richie encouraged his daughter.  “Mom and Nikki will text me pictures and I’ll call you as soon as the show is over, okay?”

Ava was preparing to walk in her first fashion show and he was going to miss it. This was one of the few times he didn’t like his job - sometimes traveling so much really sucked.

“Dad’s proud of you Ava, and Allegra told me to wish you luck for her.”

Or she would if she were here.

“I love you.”  He made kissing noises into the phone, just to hear her giggle as he disconnected the call.  That took care of one of his girls, but where was the other one?

“Come on, Sunshine.  Where ya at?” he murmured, checking the time.  Eight o’clock and still no sign of her.  He tapped out a text message asking where she was, but since she hadn’t responded to the first five, he wasn’t expecting a reply to this one.  Surely her meeting was over by now.  Why wasn’t she answering him?

The sinking feeling he had in his stomach wouldn’t go away.  If she’d only taken Matt with her, he wouldn’t be on pins and needles waiting for word.

“Hey man!  Where’s your woman?”  David leisurely strolled into his dressing room as though he owned the place.  He tested the sofa cushions for firmness before settling himself across the length of it, looking at Richie curiously once he’d found a comfortable position.

“Why?  You gonna hit on her again?”

David chuckled, completely unconcerned that his friend was taking a peevish tone.  Folding his hands under his head for a pillow, he clucked his tongue.  “Touchy, touchy!  I’m just making sure you appreciate what you’ve got there, Grumpy Ass.”

“You just make sure you appreciate what YOU’VE got there, Dopey Ass!  Worry about your own woman.  Mine is being well looked after.”

“Yeah?”  David lifted his head, making a great show of perusing every corner of the room.  “Then where the hell is she?”

Good fuckin’ question.

“She hasn’t gotten back from her meeting yet.”

Concern drew David’s features into a frown, and he sat up, swinging his feet back to the floor.  “Didn’t she leave hours ago?”

“I got a text earlier saying the meeting ran long.  She’ll be here soon.” 

Richie would go nuts sitting here with nothing to do until show time.  With a restless sigh, he rose and slid his phone into his pocket.  He was going to go find Matt.  Why he thought that would do any good, he wasn’t sure, but at least he would feel like he was doing something.

“Where ya goin’?”

“For a walk down the hall.  Wanna hold my hand?” Richie snapped.   Normally Joker and whatever came out of his mouth rolled right off his back like water from a duck.  Tonight it was all jumping on his nerves and holding tight.  He was starting to get pissed.

David didn’t have any problem giving the attitude right back to him.  “No, but I’d be happy to give you a swift kick in your saggy ass pants.  What the hell is your problem?” 

“Nothing.  I’m gonna go see Matty.”

Richie strode out the door before he got into an uncalled for argument.  He was never this antsy.  Why did he have such a bad feeling?

As luck would have it, Matt was just turning the corner after finishing up his VIP tour.  “Hey, man,” he greeted the youngest Bongiovi brother.

“Hey Rich.”  Matt had that wary look on his face, and Richie could understand why.  He’d been a little testy with him earlier, after realizing Allegra was alone. 

“Have you heard from her?”

“I don’t think so.”  Matt pulled the phone from his shirt pocket, checking for missed calls.  “No,” he confirmed.  “Nothing.  She still hasn’t shown up?”

“Not yet.”  Richie scrubbed his hand across down his face, with a sigh of exasperation.  Being Jon’s brother made Matt his family as much as anyone.  He knew he could trust him to take care of business.  “Listen, man, would you keep trying her?  We’re like five minutes from hitting the stage, or I’d do it myself.  Send me a high sign to let me know something.  If you don’t hear in another half hour, call the damn Foundation and find out when and if she left.  Okay?”

“Yeah dude, sure.  Of course.”  His hands were already moving over the phone, pushing out another text, then tapping the button to send a call.

Richie clapped him on the shoulder in appreciation.  It was time to go get geared up. 

♫  ♥  ♪  ♥  ♫

The cold was the first thing that seeped into her subconscious.  Allegra shivered as a large truck rumbled along nearby.  The next thing she registered was that it hurt to shiver.  And breathe.  God, it hurt to breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe?

Or think?  Her head was throbbing with a beat suitable for a conga line and her thoughts bounced like hands on a bongo drum – loud and chaotic.  Trying futilely to keep the bongo player in submission, she willed her mind to solve the mystery of why she hurt so badly. 

It was difficult to identify just one ache, one pain.  Each shallow breath brought a new onslaught of angry sensations.  Her whole body felt as though it had been used as a tackling dummy.  A brief inventory had her lying on a numb arm, and her hip dug painfully into the cold, biting surface beneath her.  Was she lying in a puddle?

The conga beat that had briefly subsided, kicked back up a notch, effectively dismissing any active thoughts from her mind. 

Her hand reflexively sought to soothe the aching in her temple, creeping upward only to encounter rough, woolen material where skin should be.  She opened her eyes, blinking slowly, but the darkness didn’t fade.   She couldn’t see anything.  Pulling at the fabric that occluded her vision, she felt the satin slide against her face.   Wool.  Satin.  It must be her coat, she realized, once fresh air swept into her nostrils. 

A frigid breeze created goose pimples all over her body, as though she had no protection from the elements.   Gingerly lifting her head, she looked down to discover it was because she DIDN’T have any protection from the elements.  She wore no clothes. 

Memories slammed into her like a freight train, stealing what little breath she had.  His voice hissing  ‘watch yourself’ in her ear.  Hurtling forward into the employee room.  Hitting the door.  Being thrown against the refrigerator.  Falling to the floor that last time.  And then nothing.

Her heart seized with anxiety, and she quickly glanced around without moving her head any more than necessary.  Felix didn’t seem to be here, wherever ‘here’ was.  There was a dumpster next to her, but that was the only thing she could be certain of.  Other than that, it was a dark alleyway, indistinguishable from any other. 

Conscious of her state of undress, she gingerly levered herself up from the pavement, wincing as her shoulder and ribs screamed in protest.  The coat she had pulled from her face was the only covering she’d been wearing, although there were squishy looking lumps scattered about which COULD be her clothes. 

Sitting upright brought her attention to pain in the one area she hadn’t let herself think about yet – between her thighs.  She whimpered at the tenderness, but blocked it from her immediate thoughts.  Not dying of hypothermia was first priority, followed immediately by getting out of here.  A breakdown wouldn’t accomplish either of those.

There was a scuffling just behind her, causing her to jerk and sending agonizing spasms throughout her battered frame.  A cat dropped to the ground from the dumpster, apparently successful in locating its evening meal.  It snarled softly, devouring whatever treasure it had found, paying her no attention whatsoever.

Glaring at the animal, she carefully reached for her abandoned coat with a shaking hand.  Biting her lip to keep from crying out, she cautiously pushed her arms in the sleeves, grateful that it would at least reach to mid-thigh.  She didn’t think her injuries were going to allow for enough bending and stretching to dress herself. 

Which also posed a second problem.  How was she going to get away from here if she couldn’t move?  She’d allow herself a few more minutes, but then she was going to HAVE to walk, crawl, drag herself to somewhere.  She had to get to the hotel.    

As if on cue, her coat began to buzz.  By some strange miracle her phone was still lodged in the deep pockets.  Idly she wondered if that’s what had been responsible for the conga line in her head. 

After much awkward fumbling, the phone was unearthed and she squinted at the screen, trying to focus.  There.  The letters stopped swimming long enough to form a name.

Matt. 

Never had she been so grateful to see his name.  She clumsily slid her icy finger across the screen before the call escaped. 

“Matty,” she croaked, her swollen lip making it sound more like ‘mab-by’.

“Jesus Allegra, where the hell are you?  Richie is pacing like a caged animal.  He’s had me calling you every five minutes since before they hit the stage.  Why aren’t you here yet?”

Richie.  How was she going to face him?

A wave of dizziness crashed over her, and a ringing filled her ears.  Her shivering intensified as a healthy dose of emotion pooled with the cold.

Focus.  You have to get out of here.  One thing at a time.

“I’m hurt.  Come get me.  Please.”

“Hurt?  What happened?  Where are you?  Let me get Richie.”

“No!” She gasped with the effort it took to push the exclamation from her lips. 

Easy, shallow breaths.

Holding her arm tight to her ribs, she told him in as few words as possible, “Showtime.  No Richie or Jon.  You Matt.  I need YOU.”

Her cousin must’ve understood that she was right.  Interrupting the show wasn’t a choice.  Business and the fans came first, everything else was as soon as possible after that.  It was how Bon Jovi operated. 

He swore loudly and she heard the sound of a door being flung wide.  “I’m stealing Jon’s car now.  Where are you?”

“Not sure.”  Shadows were starting to sweep through her vision, luring her into their inky darkness.  She fought to escape them, even as she leaned heavily against the dumpster.  Breathing carefully through her nose, she curled herself into as much of a ball as her wounds would permit.  Anything to keep the frosty night air blocked.  “An alley.  Soul Foundation?”

Her eyelids were growing heavy, as her body tried to defend itself against the pain she couldn’t seem to escape.  She heard him barking orders to somebody in a muffled voice before an engine sparked to life and tires squealed.

“Stay with me, babe.”

She told him she would.  Or at least she thought she did.

“Frannie?  Are you there?  Come on, talk to me.  Help me find you.”

“Cold,”  Allegra mumbled.

“I know, but the sooner we find you, the sooner you’ll be warm.  Look around you.  What do you see?”  Matt’s voice was clamoring in her ears, demanding attention.  She had to answer.

Turning her head in a slow arc, she groggily tried to decipher her surrounds enough to be of help.  It was so dark.  Her head was screaming in agony.  Her body was frozen into a huge, painful popsicle.  She just wanted to go to sleep and forget.

Mentally clawing at consciousness, she tried to make out any distinguishing marks on the dumpster supporting her. 

“Red dumpster.  Panda.”

Matt’s voice became muffled again as he relayed that information to whomever was driving.  Another male voice rumbled in the background.

“Does it look like a Chinese restaurant?”

Thinking of the cat rattling around there earlier, she didn’t think the idea was unreasonable.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, babe, we’re on our way.  We’ll be there in…”  He consulted with the other man again.  “Ten minutes.”

♫  ♥  ♪  ♥  ♫

Matt tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  It had been lodged there since the minute Frannie said she was hurt.  Not knowing where she was had only made it worse, and she hadn’t been able to give him many clues. 

Fortunately, Jon always hired local drivers who knew their way around whatever city he found himself in.  Tonight’s driver was Nick, and he was going to be in for a huge thank you if he had, indeed, solved the puzzle. 

“Tell me what happened,” he coaxed Allegra.  “Do I need to bring an ambulance?  Police?”  All valid questions that he needed to know the answers to, but he was more concerned about keeping her talking.  If, God forbid, they were wrong about her location, he was going to need her conscious.

“Not now.”

She was sounding awfully out of it.  Which question had she just answered?  All of them? 

“Frannie, do you need an ambulance?”  Most important questions first.   If she did, he wanted to call right now so she wouldn’t have to wait any longer than necessary.

“Mm.  Prob’ly.”

He gulped and willed his stomach to unknot.  She was no different than the rest of the family when it came to medical treatment, choosing to avoid it at all costs.   Agreeing to not just a doctor, but an AMBULANCE meant it was bad.  Very bad.

“Nick, get an ambulance to meet us there.”  Matt wasn’t leaving her ‘alone’ for a minute.  “What about police, sweetheart?”

Allegra mumbled something that he couldn’t make out. 

“Say it again.  I couldn’t understand you.”

“La-ter,” she drew each syllable out slowly.  Whether intentionally or because it was all she could do, he wasn’t sure.

“Tell me what happened.  Were you mugged?”  Before she had a chance to respond, he felt the car slow and navigate a sharp, bumpy turn.  They were entering an alley.   Hopefully the alley she was in.  “We’re almost there, Frannie.  Hold on.”

The Escalade crept slowly down what amounted to a narrow passageway between the buildings.  Its headlights illuminated the garbage, boxes and dumpsters that lined the way, until Nick abruptly stepped on the brakes.

“Is that her?” 

Eyes darting in the direction he indicated, Matt froze with shock as he took in the disheveled heap huddled against the dumpster. 

Her hair was in a tangled mess; her face was bruised and swollen almost beyond recognition.  And, unless he was mistaken, those were her clothes strewn all around her.  Bare legs and feet shone in the glare of the headlights, and he’d guess her coat was the only thing covering the rest.  Her hands shook visibly as she held the phone to her ear.

Anger wasn’t a foreign concept to Matt, and he’d been pissed more times than he could count.  He came from a hot-headed Italian family, after all.  But never in his life had he known this level of rage.  It consumed him from the inside out, and the accompanying adrenaline caused his heart to pound like a sledgehammer against his ribs.  Only one thought could pierce the red haze of fury.

Some motherfucker is gonna die.