One Hundred Forty-Three

“What’s wrong?”

Jon could be as politically correct and polite as the next person, but he felt like he could take a pass this time.  His cousin was knocking on his door, looking shell shocked at two in the morning with her nightgown clutched to her chest.  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that everything wasn’t all rainbows and kittens.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His brow furrowed, but he immediately stepped aside, allowing her to enter.  “Of course you can.  You and Richie didn’t work things out?”

The door closed behind her about the same time Dot stepped into the living room, tying a robe around her waist.  She wasn’t the one who asked the question, but Allegra’s eyes were riveted to her when replying, “I think we just broke up.”

“Oh, honey.” Dot reached for her and guided her to the sofa, where Allegra sank into the middle cushion.  She was immediately flanked by husband and wife, concern flooding their features.

“You can’t break up, you’re having a baby.”

Dorothea gave her husband a withering look, placing a comforting hand on Allegra’s shoulder.  “Do you want to tell us what happened?”

Allowing the wadded nightshirt to fall to her lap, she rested tightly curled fists on top of it and stared straight ahead.  There was a beautiful gold gilt-framed painting on the wall that may as well not have been there.  All she could see was Richie, harsh lines of anger stealing away his boyish charm. 

“I don’t think I really know,” she pondered quietly.  “We kept missing each other this evening and everybody else had stuff going on, so I hung out with Criss Angel.  He was one of the few people I knew and he was nice enough to spend time with me.  We took his limo over to the O2 and watched the concert together.  When I finally got to Richie after the concert, he was angry – supposedly because Criss was all over me.”

Jon picked up one of her hands and cradled it in his.  She wasn’t crying at least.  That was a good thing, but he idly wondered if she was in shock, being as her hand was like a chunk of ice. “It was all innocent though, right?  Richie should know that.”

Her head bobbed up and down, but she never turned away from the rich oil portrait of a horse and rider.  “I told him Richie and I are having a baby.  He congratulated me with a hug and kiss.  Richie saw and got pissed.”

“You said ‘supposedly’,” Dot prompted gently.  “Why supposedly?”

“He wouldn’t talk to me after the show.   He wouldn’t talk to me at the after-party either, really, other than telling me his tomorrows weren’t my concern anymore.  Oh, and then he made a cynical comment about me running his life.”

She saw his face and heard the sarcasm all over again.  The more times it replayed in her head, the more her blood began to boil. 

“I had to chase him back to the hotel to get any answers at all.  After practically pulling it from him a syllable at a time, it turns out he found out about the incident with the models and thinks I’m trying to take over his life.  All because I saved him one damn headache!”

“What the hell?” Dot’s brow furrowed in scorn.  “That’s an awfully big jump.  And how did he find out anyway?”

Jon’s hand slipped away from hers and he leaned against the cushions piled at the end of the sofa, as her tirade built steam.

Allegra couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice as she redirected her anger toward Richie’s ‘business partner’

“I guess Nikki told him.  That’s what I get for being nice!  What do they say?  No good deed goes unpunished?”  She forcefully threw her nightshirt down on the coffee table with a growl.  “After I specifically asked her not to mention it, she goes and tells him instead of quietly taking the credit for a perfect show.  Any doubts I had about the dumb blonde thing being an act just flew out the window!”

She turned to Dorothea looking for support, only to find the other woman staring suspiciously.   Following Dot’s line of vision, she twisted around to see her cousin casually reclined and looking perfectly innocent – almost too innocent.

“Jon?” Dorothea asked.  “What do you know about this?”

If it were possible, Jon exuded even more innocence as he carelessly bit at the cuticle on his middle finger.  “Why would I know anything?”

“Oh God,” his wife groaned.  “He found out from you, didn’t he?”  When her husband didn’t respond, it merely confirmed her suspicions.  “Jesus Jon, I told you that in confidence!  And of all the people to tell, it had to be Richie?  Do you think you could explain to me exactly why you couldn’t keep your big mouth shut?” 

“What?!  You’re the one responsible for that?”  Physical abuse was apparently becoming second nature to her because Allegra’s fist thumped Jon’s thigh hard enough to make him grunt with pain.  “Why the hell would you do that?  It wasn’t any business of yours!”

He rubbed his thigh with a scowl for both women.  “It’s not like I was doing it to rat anybody out, for Christ’s sake.  I wanted Richie to know you had his back.  He needs that.”

“Yeah, evidently that’s just what he needs to decide that I’m trying to steal his life out from under him!  Thanks for that, Jon.”  She punched him again for good measure, with another scathing look.

His hand wrapped around her fist before she could draw it back again, unable to control the irritation bubbling to the service.  “Stop that!  When the hell did you become so violent?”

“About the time Richie decided to have a drink instead of talking to me about something you should have kept to yourself!”  She wrested her hand free and bopped him in the shoulder this time.

“Jon, seriously, why did you tell him when I specifically asked you not to?” Dorothea’s tone dripped with censure and disappointment.  He thought he was probably lucky that Dottie wasn’t willing to reach around Allegra to beat the hell out of him too. 

This was why he honestly tried to stay out of people’s relationships.  Nod, smile ask a casual “how’s it going?” and mind his own fucking business – that’s what he should do.  It sounded brilliant in theory, but was damn hard to accomplish when the relationship in question was between two people he loved.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!”  Jon formed a ‘T’ with his hands to signal a timeout.  “Richie was drinking?”

“Yes!”  Allegra sprang to her feet as though sitting still was now physically impossible.  Circling the back of the sofa, she smacked him on the shoulder.  “Because he was so upset about this horrible thing I did – which, by the way, is comparable to keeping my pregnancy from him.”  Agitated hands flew up in a gesture of exasperation.  “Whatever!”

Scrunching his handsome features into a face of displeasure, Jon shoved wide hands through his hair, causing it to stick up in all different directions. 

“Well, hell…” he sighed.  “I had no idea that would happen.”

“Imagine that.  Something you don’t know!  I’m sure it’s hard to believe, but everyone doesn’t act the way you want them to, jackass!  Why haven’t you figured that out yet?!” Allegra crossed her arms over her midriff, feet planted in a wide stance. 

Contempt emitted from her body in waves, and while he may have deserved a little bit of anger, Jon thought she was laying it on kind of thick.  Richie was the one acting like a douche bag, not him.

“Excuse the fuck out of me for caring!  I can see how much you love him.  Why the hell is it so wrong to want to make sure he sees it too?”

“If he can’t see it, then he doesn’t want to see it.  I haven’t exactly been hiding it from him.”

Why did he get no respect whatsoever in his family?  Even when he was trying to do something nice, he caught six different kinds of hell.  It just wasn’t right.

“Fine, fine, I get it.  ‘Mind your own damn business, Jon’,” he snarked with a fair dose of Jersey attitude to hide the fact that his feelings were hurt.  He really had just been trying to help.

“Exactly!”  Allegra approved.  “And in addition to minding your own business, you’re going to his room to spend the night and make sure he doesn’t crawl into a whole bottle instead of just one drink.  It’s the least you can do, don’t ya think?”

He’d never make another deal if his business associates knew that the women in his family could have him tucking his tail between his legs like a whipped puppy.  Jon hoped to God they never found out.

“Whatever  you say.”   He got up and went to the bedroom without another word, intending to grab a t-shirt and tennis shoes.  The only thing he had on at the moment was a pair of athletic shorts he’d pulled on when Allegra had knocked.  Patriots shirt in place, he had just crammed his bare feet into a pair of Nikes when he felt a soft hand on his arm.

“Did you come to chew my ass some more?” he asked his wife reproachfully.  “’Cause I think she may have left a little.”

“Believe it or not, no.”  She tugged at him until they were face to face, arms draped around one another.  “I know you mean well, honey, but you can’t bully people into doing what you want.  Well, at least not their personal lives.  The band is a whole other story,” Dot amended with a smirk, brushing the hair back from his forehead. 

 “I can’t help it.  I see a problem and I wanna fix it.  They love each other.  They should fuckin’ be married, and I told Richie as much.” 

“But that’s not your decision to make.”

Jon tightened his grasp, tucking his chin into her shoulder and saying softly, “He’s been carrying around an engagement ring for two months, Dottie.  Richie made the decision a long time ago, but he got afraid that she didn’t love him enough, or in the right way, or some such shit.  I just wanted him to know that she’s looking out for him.  That’s all.”

He didn’t know what went on inside his friend’s head.   He supposed the things that had happened in Richie’s life would forever affect the way he looked at the world.  For the most part, he was still the same easy going, big-hearted guy he always was, but there had been changes in the past few years – enough to let Jon know that the man who appeared to love everyone now guarded his heart very closely.

The only thing he’d been trying to do was convince Richie that he could let his guard down with Allegra.  She would take care of him. 

“I don’t tell you nearly often enough, but you’re a good man John Bongiovi.”

A tender smile curled up the corners of his mouth at her soft words.  She always loved him.  He knew that.  But she didn’t always give him the sweet affirmations that went along with it.  Catching hell was almost worth getting one of these special moments.

This is what he wanted for Richie.  Allegra would take care of Richie the way Dottie took care of him, body and soul.  Who could ask for anything better?

“I’m only what you made me, baby.”

Chapter 142

Upon entering the hotel room, Richie didn’t bother switching on any lights, choosing to pick his way through the darkness to the bedroom.  Closing the door behind him, he immediately stripped down to his boxer briefs and crawled into bed.  He groaned as the cool sheets settled over his exhausted body.  With any luck he would be asleep by the time Allegra got here. 

The anger had left him drained and the booze he’d drunk burned in his gut.  He was ready to go to sleep and erase this entire evening. 

If only that were possible. 

Things had gone too far for him quietly wish away his behavior tonight.  He’d heard himself and the awful things he was saying, yet couldn’t make them stop, continuing to mask his confusion and hurt with anger.

Bringing his forearm to rest across his eyes, he silently cursed Jon for telling him that shit so close to show time.  He hadn’t had the chance to get past his gut reaction of betrayal before being thrust head first into work-mode.  If there had been time to sit and think a little before hitting the stage, he may have been able to rationalize everything without acting like a total prick.

His quiet snort pierced the silence of the room.  So much for that.

Now he had to figure out how to deal with the mess he’d made and still keep his ego intact – and his relationship.  The truth was, even if he still was on the fence about marriage, he couldn’t walk away.  Quite simply, he couldn’t stand the thought of Allegra belonging to anyone but him.  She’d been his– or maybe he had been hers – ever since the night she asked him to hold her in Hawaii.  That’s why Angel’s hands all over her had jacked up his righteous indignation like a shot of pure testosterone. 

He flipped over onto his side, the sheets falling to his waist as he wondered what the chance of her letting him off easy –

The door flung wide open, and his pupils constricted at the light that came flooding in courtesy of the loud ‘click’ of the overhead switch. 

“I know you don’t think you’re going to sleep without some type of explanation.” 

There was a sudden chill as he levered up in the bed, squinting.  Icicles dripped from her words, and he would swear the temperature in the room dropped by a good five degrees.  Fortunately her belligerence rekindled the fire under him, so he wasn’t cold for long.

Easy had just flown out the window.

“Goddammit, are you trying to blind me?” 

His hand came up to block the glaring light, and she took the opportunity to stalk to the foot of the bed.  Looking down her nose at him, with arms crossed she appeared to deliberate for a moment before shrugging carelessly. “If that makes you actually talk to me, sure I’m all for it.”

Great.  She still wanted to push.  He made one last-ditch effort to dodge the bullet. 

“Allegra, I’m tired.  It’s been a long-ass day and I want to go to sleep.”  Maybe sleep would chase away this childish temper he couldn’t seem to escape.

“Sucks to be you then, because I deserve some answers and you’re going to give them to me.”  Curling one leg under her, she plopped down on her side of the bed, an air of expectation surrounding her.  “So give.”

He had no idea where to start.  Criss Angel?  The issue with Nikki and the models?  It all seemed borderline ridiculous with her sitting in bed with him.  But instead of admitting that, he engaged in a stubborn, silent standoff with her.

Much as she had done in the bar, she took the heel of her hand and butted it against his bare shoulder, right about where the sun peeked out of the clouds.

“Stop hitting me!”

“Then talk to me!”

Stalemate again. 

Allegra gave a huge sigh and growl of frustration.  “Fine.  I’ll draw it out of you one freaking piece at a time then.  Is this about Criss?”

Rather than answer the question, he stated the obvious.  “He had his hands all over you.  Is that who you were with at the fashion show too?  I saw you laughing and smiling with somebody the whole time.  Did you have a nice date?”

This time the bump of her hand was harder, but he took the shot stoically, without a word of protest.  What else was going to do?  Cry like a little girl?

“It wasn’t a date and you know it!  I was bored and he was pretty much the only non-working person I knew in that crowd.  He kept me company.”

“You knew plenty of people at the concert.”

“Again, nobody that wasn’t working.  And when you saw him hugging me he was congratulating me on the baby.  Our baby.  That is unless you’ve changed your mind about that too.”

Somehow that little tidbit had gotten shoved into some obscure pothole in his brain while everything else was running rampant.  He hadn’t changed his mind, but he had temporarily forgotten about that complication.  Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t completely sever ties with Allegra.

“And while we’re on the subject, what was that crack about me running your life?  And not concerning myself with your tomorrow?”

Balls to the wall.  Either man-up and defend your actions or admit you’re a pussy that threw out insults instead of discussing your feelings like an adult.

“You promised you were going to stop making decisions about my life without consulting me first.  If you can’t do that, then this relationship doesn’t have a future.”

The combination of acid and alcohol churning wildly together caused his stomach to cramp.  He wasn’t sure how he even got the words out of his mouth.  Hadn’t he just decided that he couldn’t walk away?  Why was pushing her away a better option?

For her part, Allegra lifted her chin, swallowing visibly as she absorbed the blow.  Eyes narrowed, her voice was deceptively quiet when she asked, “Would you mind enlightening me a little further, because I still don’t know what you’re talking about?”

Richie’s heart began to beat a little harder as the first traces of real panic set in.  He’d fucked up.  He didn’t want to do this. 

But he was in too deep to back down now.

“Bullshit,” he sneered with a false bravado.  “You knew exactly what you were doing when you slipped away to commandeer my fashion show and threaten my models.”

There.  That sounded severe enough to warrant his reaction.

Didn’t it?

“Really? That’s what this is all about?”  Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she slowly nodded, not meeting his gaze but staring past his shoulder out into the darkened London sky.  Biting her lip, she continued to nod and he could see the wheels spinning in her head.   “So the jealousy act was just that – an act.  It was a smoke screen to hide your idiotic reaction to my stepping in and helping.” 

He had to jump in before she was the one making him look like the bad guy here.  He might be an idiot, but he wasn’t a bad guy.

“It’s not an idiotic reaction.”  Well it hadn’t seemed like it at the time.  Not really.  “It’s my company, Allegra.  I’m the one responsible.  You can’t just sweep in and make whatever threats and promises you want and skate back out without a backward glance.  You don’t know anything about the fashion industry, yet not only did you march in there and ‘fix’ things, you didn’t see fit to even fuckin’ tell me about it.  It’s my job to fix things, not yours.”

He was talking in circles and he knew it.  Why couldn’t he stop?  Why couldn’t he just hand her his balls and apologize?   Richie held his breath waiting for her reaction.

“Actually it was Nikki’s job.  She was having trouble with it, so I helped her.”  Her voice had never been so cold and flat toward him.  She flipped loose ebony waves over her shoulders, oozing Jersey attitude.  “And on the off chance that I did it so that you wouldn’t succumb to a nervous breakdown, heart attack or some other stress-related health issue, so what?”

“So what?!”  He threw the covers back and paced to stand in front of the window, arms crossed over his chest.   Logical or not, her flippant attitude bypassed his good sense and he blurted without thinking, “Dammit, you don’t get it!”

His point might be weak and now blown entirely out of proportion, but he did have one to start with. 

“Evidently not, so please feel free to explain.”  Her eyes narrowed when she added sarcastically, “But you might want to use little words since I’m obviously slow on the uptake.”

“Stop being a smartass!  And stop fucking making decisions that affect my life without asking me!”

Her face went eerily calm.  Blue eyes went from blazing to serene as a midday lake.  Facial features that had been creased in anger smoothed.   She was suddenly devoid of all anger – of any emotion at all, really.  He had never seen her that way, and it freaked him out to the point that he wanted to take the words back. 

Damn male pride.  I’m supposed to be the motherfuckin’ sensitive one in this band.  Women love me because I understand them.  Another good theory shot to hell.

When she finally spoke, it was almost as if she were talking to herself, quietly musing, “I guess I did do that, didn’t I?  I made a decision that kept you out of a liquor bottle for – what? – a whole extra ten hours?  Yeah, that was worth this.” 

Rising from the mattress, she stood with her knees against the edge of the bed, mirroring his stance from the opposite side.  “So this is why I’m not supposed to worry about your tomorrow.  You’re breaking up with me.”

No!  This isn’t what he wanted.  It was all playing out in slow motion, like a train wreck that he had no control over.  Everything was spinning out of control.

Except that he’d had control.  That’s why everything was like this.  Because his mind was a muddled mess and he couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. 

Fuck!

He had to fix it somehow.

“Allegra – “

She held up a hand to silence him, speaking over top of him when he pushed forward and tried to explain anyway.  “No.  I’ve begged you to talk to me all night.  You had your chance.  Now you’re going to listen.”

He had a serious feeling that he wasn’t going to like this – at all.  But what else could he do?  Richie nodded mutely, propping hands on hips as he braced himself for whatever she wanted to dish out. 

She shoved her hands through her hair and sighed.  “There’s no point in denying that I’m naïve when it comes to relationships.  Naïve or not, I believe that when you love someone you take care of them – no matter what.  You’re guilty of reinforcing that belief, by the way.  Remember when I was hurt?  How you wanted to take care of me?  How you did take care of me?  How I let you?  It was a really big deal for me, but I relinquished my sense of independence and entrusted myself to you.” 

One slim hand lifted and she pointed an accusing finger at him.  “And you know what else was a big deal?  That you knew about my mother for days – weeks – and didn’t tell me!  Even so, did I go off on you and accuse you of trying to manipulate my life without my permission?  No.  I appreciated that you were looking out for my well-being and happiness, because in my very simple, unsophisticated mind, that’s part of what love is.”

Her eyes zeroed in on his as she drove her point home like a spike in his chest. 

“Richie, I refuse to apologize for loving you too much.   I’ll never say I’m sorry for taking care of you when you’re too tired, distracted or beaten down to do it yourself.   If that interferes with what your definition of a relationship is – well, then I’m not sure it’s a relationship I want to be a part of.”

She stopped only long enough to pick up her teddy bear nightshirt before preparing to walk out the door and, as far as he knew, out of his life.

“Allegra.  Please don’t go.” 

She paused, her hand and eyes both on the light switch.  “An hour ago you implied that there were no tomorrows for us.  Now I’m wondering if you weren’t right.  Clearly I can’t love you the way you need to be loved.”  Her shoulders squared and she nodded resolutely.  “I’m going to Jon’s suite.  I’ll get the rest of my stuff tomorrow.”

And that was it.  No threats, no tears, no crying – just a matter-of-fact statement before she doused the room in darkness and was gone. 

For the life of him, Richie couldn’t push a word past his vocal cords.  His feet were invisibly nailed to the floor, as heavy as the weight in his heart.  He was helpless to do anything but stare blindly out the window and curse himself. 

What the hell is wrong with me?

One Hundred Forty-One

Richie banged open the dressing room door, still angry beyond reason.  Criss hadn’t left Allegra’s side for the remainder of the show, and she had been way too happy about it for his liking.  Of course, take away the half hour before the concert – where Jon had essentially told him to shit or get off the pot – and Criss Angel wouldn’t have made the least little dent in his consciousness.  He normally didn’t have a jealous bone in his body but…

But he couldn’t take away Jon’s ultimatum.  And Criss’s presence had made him realize Allegra could be just as happy with someone else as she was with him.  

How long could he wait for her to ‘grow up’ before it became selfish on his part?  Before it became unfair to make her wait for marriage just because he was looking for some type of guarantee?  Maybe he should let her go.  Let her be with someone who didn’t have so many problems, doubts and – dammit – insecurities.

Fuck!

His sweat-soaked shirt was no more stripped over his head than a tap came at the door.  Without waiting for an invitation, Allegra slipped through it, a soft smile on her lips and an eager light in her eyes.

No.  I need more time before I do this.  Damn you, Jon for making me think I don’t have anymore time!

Her hips swayed seductively as she crossed the room, making him appreciate the dress he’d chosen for her.  The leather cutouts above her breasts gave an enticing visual tease that he wholeheartedly appreciated.  It had a skirt shorter than anything she would ordinarily wear, but he would make sure this wasn’t the last time she put those gorgeous legs on display.  Only next time, he’d be right by her side to keep everyone else away.

A silent curse swept through Richie’s mind at the thought. 

No I won’t.  I should walk away and give her a chance at what she deserves – someone to accept her as she is.

His skin burned when the leather sleeves of her dress glided over his bare ribcage and she wrapped him in a hug.  The heat of the stage lights had been nothing in comparison and Richie quickly grabbed her wrists, setting her away from him with an ill-tempered, “I’m all sweaty.”

Her brow puckered and she shook off his hands, placing one open palm in the center of his chest.  “I don’t care. I missed you.”

He stepped backward, willing himself not to feel anything – to remember the anger at seeing her lips on those of another man.  He forcefully recalled the disbelief at her presumptuousness in resolving his problems without him – and the disappointment in her determination to do things her way.

It worked.  Now he just had to get away from her until he could decide what to do.

“I’m going to shower and head over to the after party.  I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

Richie spun on his heel and had taken exactly one step when she grabbed him by the belt and jerked, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!  You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Let go,” he gritted without turning.  “This isn’t some game, I have work commitments.” 

Richie was mad at her for overstepping her boundaries.  He was mad at Jon for making this a do-or-die situation.  He was mad at himself for having such high expectations.  He was mad that his happily-ever-after may be falling in the toilet for the second time in his life – and that this time it hurt so much more. 

All those things collided together and built within him until his temper was barely tethered.  He didn’t want to unleash it – he just wanted to walk quietly away, but she wouldn’t give it up.

“It’s an after-party, not a performance,” she said, rolling her eyes and circling around so that she was in front of him again.  “Nobody will die if you’re ten minutes late.  Now tell me what’s wrong.”

She looked into his face and saw very little sign of the man she loved.  There was no glimmer of light in Richie’s usually warm, sparkling eyes.  A flat, cold anger had doused the warmth and it struck a tiny chord of fear within her.  The only time she’d seen him this upset was when he found out about her pregnancy.

“I am going to take a shower.”  He stepped resolutely around her trying to get to the bathroom, but she wouldn’t allow it.  One swift sidestep and she had blocked his path again, hand planted in his stomach.

“Is this about Criss Angel?  Because if it is, you’re being ridiculous.  I saw the way you looked at us, but he’s very much aware that you and I are a couple.  Honestly I think he was using me as a shield to keep the women away more than anything.”

But he wasn’t in the mood to listen to logic.  “Not now!” he growled.  “Just go back to the friggin’ hotel!”

Her jaw went slack as the intent of what he was saying slammed into her.  The hotel, not the after-party here at the venue.  Allegra took a half a step backward, looking at him with eyes narrowed in disbelief.  “So you don’t want me at the after-party?”

“No.  I don’t.”

Originally she’d been concerned, but his answer had turned that concern to hurt and shock, which in turn was an instant later consumed by fury.  He was being a big baby by not even offering a hint as to why he was so pissed off, and she would be damned if she let him get away with it.  The way he was acting, this would be the night he dove back into a bottle – and she wouldn’t allow that either.

She crossed her arms and, with a defiant tip of her chin, she tartly informed him, “Well, I guess that’s just too damn bad.  Talk to me or don’t – if you’re going, I’m going.”

The deafening crash of the bathroom door being slammed shut was the only reply she got.

♥  ♥  ♥

“Legs!”  David greeted her over the beat of the music, stepping forward for a hug only to be pushed aside by Richie.   Brows drawn in confusion, David watched him pass by without a word, submerging himself into the swarm of party-goers.  “What the hell’s his problem?”

“I wish I knew.”  She rose on tiptoe to return his hug while keeping Richie’s dark head in sight as he headed for the bar.  “He’s mad about something, but won’t say what.”

He placed his hand in the center of her back and guided her toward an empty high topped table.  “Did you two fight?”

“That would’ve been easier,” she remarked caustically, climbing onto the bar stool.  “I keep asking what was wrong and he’s just shutting me out.  I have no idea what horrible crime I’ve committed.”

For the next hour, Allegra did the only thing she knew to do, which was watch and wait.  She chatted off and on with the band members, all the while wishing Dorothea was here.  At least she would feel comfortable venting her frustration to Dot.  A phone call would be near impossible in this environment and she wasn’t willing to venture away to seek a quieter spot. 

When she couldn’t in good conscience monopolize the guys any longer, she pivoted her head, searching the room until she saw Richie standing alone at the bar.  Surprisingly, he was alone and drinking what appeared to be a glass of Diet Coke. 

I guess I’ll find out for sure.

Working her way through the slowly thinning crowd, she sidled up next to him and asked the bartender for a Sprite.  Richie’s fingers were loosely cradled around his glass, making it easy for her to lift it away from him without even making eye contact.  In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t allow her to drink alcohol because of the baby.

“I’m dying of thirst, and the bartender looks busy.  Can I have a sip until mine gets here?” 

Forceful fingers curled around her wrist like thin bands of iron before she could get the glass fully to her mouth.  The liquid never came close to her taste buds, but she didn’t have any trouble identifying the smell.  There may have been Diet Coke in there, but it was heavily laced with something much stronger.

“You’re not my mother, Allegra.”

She forcibly put the glass back on the counter and wrenched her wrist free, snapping, “No I’m not.  I’m just the woman who loves you.  The one who’s thinking about tomorrow when you don’t seem to care about anything past the bottom of that glass.  If you’d just friggin’ talk to me, this…” She waved her hand over the offensive drink. “…wouldn’t be necessary.  What happened to open communication?  Stop being such a damn man!”

“Yeah, well how about I just make my tomorrow none of your concern?  Does that make it any easier for ya?”  He bent his elbow and belted back half of the dark amber liquid in one gulp.

She couldn’t help herself.   Physical violence was never the answer to a problem, but she was so frustrated with him that she couldn’t use her words.  Allegra pounded his shoulder with the heel of her hand, face awash with blatant disbelief.

“What in God’s name is going on with you?”

She didn’t realize how loudly she’d spoken until Tico materialized between them, a press smile on his face.  “I think you two should finish this conversation in private.  People are becoming a little too interested.”

It took Allegra only a second to confirm his assessment of the situation.  The guests throughout the room were craning their necks to see what was happening with Richie and the woman who had just hit him.  Despite their relationship, Allegra was still a relatively unknown figure in the Bon Jovi circle, especially amongst this European group.  There were a few familiar faces smirking, but mostly she read morbid curiosity.

“Don’t worry man.  Allegra knows everything.  She’ll decide what’s best and clue me in eventually,” Richie grumbled, finishing off his drink and plunking the glass back down on the bar.  “Or not.  I’m going back to the hotel.  I’ve had enough.”

The music pulsing through the room made her voice barely discernible, and knowing that no one besides Richie and Tico could hear her, she seethed, “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

His voice was no quieter than hers, but brushing his lips next to her ear ensured that she was the only audience to his sarcastic, “What’s the matter darlin’?  Has running my life all by yourself become so natural that you don’t even realize you’re doing it?”

Allegra’s eyes sparked with blue fire and Tico quickly interceded, wrapping an outwardly friendly arm around her shoulders.  In reality, it was a grip strong enough to keep her anchored in place, effectively protecting Richie from the hailstorm of rage that she was ready to give free rein to.   

“Sambo, go to the hotel,” he spoke through a clenched jaw smile.  “I’ll make sure Allegra gets there shortly.”

“I’m going with him,” she asserted, trying to escape Tico’s grasp and follow Richie’s zigzag path toward the exit.  He nodded and smiled absently to a few people on his way through, but for the most part Richie kept his head down to avoid conversation.

Tico squeezed again, holding her at his side.  “Give him a few minutes to get a handle on it.  You and I will grab another car and be right behind him.  He won’t get in any trouble between here and there.”

“I don’t need an escort; I need to know what’s going on in his head!”  The frustration was threatening to smother her.  What did he mean about running his life?  She hadn’t done anything!  As a matter of fact, she had distinct visions of him controlling her, not the other way around.

His arm never leaving her, Tico pressed a kiss to her temple.  “This may be London instead of Detroit, but you’re not going anywhere this late at night by yourself.  Please bella.  My conscience won’t let me stand for it.”

Before she could argue or comply, Jon appeared before her, assuming an aggressive stance and strategically placing his back toward the room’s other occupants.  “Why are you beating the shit out of Richie in a room full of people?” he demanded.  “Private life stays private, babydoll.  Don’t air your dirty laundry in public.”

She couldn’t allow the misplaced admonishment to do more than glide over her consciousness or Allegra would end up in a fist fight with her cousin.  One harsh look promised that he would receive the next beating if he pushed her. 

“Don’t lecture me Jon.  I don’t have the time or patience for it right now.”  Summarily dismissing him, Allegra turned beseeching eyes on her self-proclaimed protector.  “Tico, can we go?”

Jon forced his scowl into a mask of congeniality as he watched his drummer usher Allegra from the after-party, all the while wondering what kind of storm was brewing in Sambora Land.

Chapter 140

Richie pushed his head into the sleeveless purple t-shirt he would wear onstage.  It was one of his favorites, with the peace symbol bedazzled on the front – at least that’s how he still described it to himself.  Allegra had asked him in Paris, after wondering for some time, why he had a Mercedes symbol splashed across his chest when he didn’t drive a Mercedes.  Turned out the damn thing was missing a line and he’d never paid that much attention.

Shaking his head, he justified that he was still supporting his clothing line and it was comfortable.  Nobody had to know it was never intended to advertise luxury cars.

Although it seemed like his clothing line was getting its share of support.  The show this evening had gone unbelievably well.  How the disaster from this morning had turned into a flawless event was no less than astounding.  He only regretted that he didn’t even get the chance to speak to Allegra at the show.  He’d seen her across the room a couple of times, laughing and talking to someone – the crowd was such that he couldn’t see who it was – but he’d been kept so busy hopping from one person to the next, he couldn’t get close to her.

The dressing room door banged open with no warning and Jon sauntered in, making himself comfortable.

“Your fashion gig went good,” he complimented, crossing his ankles on the coffee table that sat in front of the black leather sofa.  The set up was almost identical to his dressing room.  “Steph was happy as a clam to be strutting down that runway.  Thank God she said she doesn’t want to make a living of it though.”

“She was a knockout.  I’m glad you decided to let her do it.”  Richie dropped next to Jon on the sofa, relishing the few moments before they needed to get to down business.  He hadn’t gotten to rehash the show with anyone yet and was still riding a bit of an adrenaline high.  “She made the clothes look good.”

“That she did,” Jon agreed, rubbing his hand across his jawline, absently thinking that he should have shaved again.  “Thanks for brushing up on her song for tonight.”

“Aw man, that’s no problem.  I was glad to do it.  I’m looking forward to seeing how the crowd reacts.”

Jon looked at his friend from the corner of his eye, debating on whether he should risk the wrath of his wife.  She’d instructed him not to breathe a word of the afternoon’s real agenda to Richie, but he thought Richie should know. 

He would’ve been fine with Richie and Allegra getting more permanently attached weeks ago, but this stint in Europe had erased any doubts that he had about his cousin spending the rest of her life with his best friend.  They needed each other.  So for that reason alone, he hoped this news would give Richie a little extra push in that direction.

“You know why that show went off without a hitch, don’t you?”

“Because of a lot of fuckin’ hard work,” was the laughing reply.

That may have been true, but the love of one woman had allowed his guitarist to spend the afternoon playing with him instead of being stuck in Fashion Model Hell. 

“Did you know the models pitched another fit this afternoon?”

“What?”  Richie’s brows slammed down over his eyes.  “No, I didn’t know.  What the hell happened? And why do you know?”

Jon sighed.  Of course Nikki didn’t tell him.  Why would she want to jeopardize their partnership by admitting that she couldn’t pull it off alone?

“I don’t know the details man, but I do know who got it all straightened out.”

“Nikki?”

“Well, that’s supposed to be the story, but it was your girlfriend who walked in that viper’s nest and cracked the whip on the models.  Dottie told her she deserved something big and sparkly for her efforts, but she didn’t want you to know.  Said Nikki had a problem and Nikki took care of it.”

Richie was stunned.  “Allegra didn’t even tell me there was a problem.”

Jon folded his legs and planted his black tennis shoes firmly on the floor before rising.  “That’s because she’s trying to take care of you, dumbass.  She loves you.  You’ve been about to snap all week and she kept the straw from breaking the camel’s back, so to speak.”

Jon took the handful of steps that put him in front of the door, with the full intention of leaving Richie to stew on that, but he paused with his hand on the knob.  A look back at his friend found him staring at the floor with a puzzled frown on his face.  This did not look like the face of a man who was ready to commit to his undying love and gratitude to his girlfriend.  Apparently he needed a more decisive push.

“Haven’t you held onto that engagement ring long enough, bro?”

Richie rolled his head on his shoulders, the question replaying itself over top of the other thoughts rambling around.  Was it time?   She had made everything seem better since she came to join the tour, even after having more family drama dumped in her lap.  He loved her; there was no doubt about that.

Something had him hesitating though – a sense of foreboding pulling at his gut.

How was her ‘rescuing’ him from the latest WTB disaster any different than keeping her pregnancy a secret?  She’d made a decision deemed to be in his best interest without consulting him – again.  Of course he was grateful for her help, but did it make everything okay just because he liked the outcome this time? 

The bottom line was that she still was making decisions for him.    She hadn’t learned anything at all.

At his prolonged silence, Jon snorted and treated him to an icy glare that was an eyelash away from being the Stink Eye. “If you don’t want to give her the commitment she deserves, maybe you should let her go.”

The slamming of the metal door echoed through the room as harshly as Jon’s words.

Let her go.

Richie thought he was going to be sick.  It wasn’t something that he’d even considered but, hearing Jon lay it out that way...  Well, he thought of life without her almost brought him to his knees.  But on the other hand, how could he be expected to live with the fear that she may eventually devastate him with one of those decisions?

♥ ♥ ♥

Allegra was swaying her hips in time to the music, grateful that Matt had once again found her a spot on Richie’s side of the stage to enjoy the performance.  And her guest, too.

“So you’re still not going to run away with me, huh Beautiful?”  His voice was loud in her ear to be heard over the strains of “You Give Love a Bad Name”.

She shook her head with a smirk and looked down her nose at the arm he’d placed around her waist.  Turning to put her lips near his ear, she said as quietly as she could to still be heard, “Criss Angel, you’d better use your magical powers to get that arm back where it belongs before I permanently remove it for you.”  Her smile was sweet, but there was no doubt that she meant her words.

He had turned up at the WTB show excited to renew their acquaintance and she was much more pleasant to him than she had been in Las Vegas.  That was all it had taken for him to attach himself to her side and spend the evening engaging in outrageous attempts to lure her away from Richie.  He was no more serious than a chicken in a frog suit, but he was having fun teasing her – and to be honest, Allegra was having a little bit of fun flirting right back. 

It was a nice distraction since Richie had been tied up and Jon, Dot and Stephanie were all having a family moment after the show.  She’d felt in the way, a little lonely and bored, and Criss was harmless enough.  Even when he’d convinced her to join him in his limo for the ride over to the O2, he had been a perfect gentleman by suspending the flirtation while they were alone.  He was good company.

But now her feet hurt, she was getting tired and becoming decidedly antisocial.  All she wanted to do was get lost in the show, and more specifically, Richie’s performance.  It was hard having him near, yet so far away.  He’d been within her range of vision all evening, which should have helped, but only served to make the separation more pronounced.  She missed him. 

The one thing she wouldn’t have missed, however, was this ridiculous dress he’d selected.  She wondered why she had bothered wearing it, because he probably hadn’t even seen her in it and she sure wouldn’t have chosen for herself.

The black leather dress was short – very short – hitting her above mid-thigh, with sleeves long enough to reach her knuckles.  A zipper ran down the center of her torso from neckline to hem and the ornately cut openings over each breast showed more skin than she was comfortable with.  Besides the fact that she felt like she was on display for everyone but the man she wanted to display herself to, leather was freaking hot in a crowd like this.

“You look hot in that dress in case nobody’s told you,” Criss spoke once again into her ear, arm never moving from its comfortable spot at her waist.

“That’s because it’s a hundred degrees in here!”  She wrinkled her nose, moving her hands to tug at the skirt.  “I’m too old to be wearing something this short.”

“No.  You’re not.  Trust me.”  He took in the exposed length of her legs, their shapeliness emphasized by black, open-toed pumps, his look of appreciation plain to see.   “Definitely not.”

She arched her brow with a pointed look.  “Move your arm, buddy.  Don’t make me call security.”

“I’d be gone before they could catch me,” he bragged.  “You know. Magician. Vanishing.”  Even so, he moved to comply, his open palm brushing across her stomach as he did.  Feeling the firm little bump hidden under her dress, Criss’s eyes widened questioningly.  “Are you…?”

“Yeah,” she nodded with a grin, inexplicably pleased to have someone – anyone – actually notice.  “We’re having a baby.”

“Well that deserves at least a hug!”  He spun them in a circle, lifting her from her feet with his enthusiastic embrace.

Without thought, her arms encircled him just as tightly as he twirled her.  When he put her back on the ground, Allegra looked up to find Richie staring at her with cold eyes, lines of displeasure framing his mouth with an uncharacteristic harshness.  A scowl briefly darkened his features before he returned his focus to the crowd, head bent over the frets.  To any casual observer he appeared to be absorbed in his music.

Allegra knew better.

Crap.  He can’t seriously be jealous can he?

Criss, unaware of what was happening, placed a light kiss on her lips while keeping his arms looped around her.  “Congratulations!  I hope that Sambora knows what a lucky bastard he is.”

She smiled absently at Criss before returning her gaze to her cousin’s right-hand man.  Locking eyes for a split second, he then deliberately turned his back on Allegra and strutted to center stage, contorting his features into the infamous sex face as he worked the guitar to its full potential.  The women in the pit squealed with delight.

I hope so, too.

One Hundred Thirty-Nine

The next week zipped by in a flurry of activity for Allegra.  Upon the band’s return to London, the families began descending and the four Bongiovi children – well, really the two small Bongiovi children – were enough to keep anyone on their toes.  Toss a small herd of Bryan teenagers and a sweet little Cubano into the mix and there was non-stop chaos in the hotel.

Somehow amidst the hub of activity, she managed to still make significant progress on her coursework as well as testing out her new role as Bon Jovi’s “Social Networking Director”.  It was a fancy title for someone who was doing no more than posting an occasional status update and reading some of the fan responses, but every time someone used it, the guys all beamed at her with pride.  She personally felt it was an achievement that ranked right up there with not dripping marinara sauce on her white blouse.  Since it seemed to make them happy, she adopted the ‘grin and bear it’ attitude. 

The guys had been cranking out some amazing shows, with at least a couple of surprises for the crowd each night.  Her favorites were the acoustic numbers out on the circle, particularly ‘Love for Sale’.  With Richie growling out “I got some love for sale” and Tico getting his chance at the mic, it made her giggle with delight.

That wasn’t the only thing about the shows that was making her giggle.  The shows had been sold out for some time, but Matt had found her an inconspicuous spot on Richie’s side where she could sit and watch the show.  The fanatics inside the circle were beyond ecstatic to be that close to Richie and she could swear she heard them screaming something about sex faces.

Intrigued, she consciously paid more attention to what the fans were saying, only to discover they really had been talking about sex faces – Richie’s sex faces!  She was shocked – and a little amused – that they were brazen enough to voice those kinds of remarks. 

Then she also became a little smug. 

The fans were right.  Richie did make some of the same faces on stage that he made in the bedroom – just not the ones they thought.  They assumed that the scrunchy, almost painful expression he made during an intense solo was his ‘sex face’.  In actuality, it was during his more mellow fretwork, when his head was thrown back in pure enjoyment of the music sweeping through him.

Goosebumps had danced up and down her arms at the visual.  If nothing else, she was grateful to those fans for giving her the most amazing idea on how to present Richie with his birthday gift.  Allegra had spoken to Takumi, as Jon suggested, and he very graciously provided her the insight she’d been seeking as well as making the arrangements to get the guitar for her.

She smiled at Richie across the small table that separated them.  It was the day of the fashion show and she had stolen him away for a quiet lunch before the madness began.  She wasn’t sure whose brainchild it was to schedule this thing just mere hours before a Bon Jovi show, but she could certainly hazard a guess.   The tight schedule was making Richie antsy, and that was compounded by the models being particularly bitchy at this morning’s run through.

Taking his phone away from him, she had put it in the night stand drawer and dragged him to a small, out of the way restaurant.  If something major happened, Allegra had her phone.  Everyone important had her number – except Nikki.  And she wasn’t getting it.  He needed this brief escape.

“Honey?”  She curled her fingers over his fretfully tapping ones as they bounced up and down on the tabletop.  “You’ve got to relax.”

He grimaced as he realized his nervous energy had become annoying.  “I feel like I should be doing something.  There’s not enough hours in today.  What if the models walk out?  They were about to kill each other and Nikki earlier.”  Richie checked his watch for at least the tenth time.

Smiling patiently, she laced her fingers into his and squeezed, thinking it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad idea if the models staged a mass suicide.  She hadn’t met them but, from what she’d heard, a bigger bunch of prima donnas didn’t exist.

“Everything will be fine.  You have extra time since Jon cancelled sound check today.  All you have to do is show up at the hotel – looking devastatingly handsome as always – smile, schmooze and enjoy the compliments on your clothing line.  Then hop over to the O2, pick up your guitar and do what you do best.  It’s gonna be a great day.”

A dimple appeared in his left cheek and the next thing she knew he was kissing her hand.  “I love you.  I can’t thank you enough for keeping me sane this last week.”

“You take care of me and I take care of you,” she told him with a smile.  “It’s what we do.”

The dimple disappeared and his face became solemn at the same time the buzzing started in her pocket.  As much as she wanted to ignore the phone in favor of whatever he was about to say, she knew she couldn’t.  The family and band all knew where they were and why.  If someone was calling it was a big deal.

Slipping her hand free, she retrieved the offensive device and frowned when she saw Dot’s name.  “Hey Dot, what’s up?”

She could barely make Dorothea’s low voice out in the din that came through the phone line.  “You’ve got to get over here.  Nikki called another rehearsal, so I had to bring Steph back.  The models are pitching royal bitch fits and Nikki can’t do a thing with them.  I think she’s about to cry and it’s sure as hell not my place to step in.”

WHY would she do that??  Making them stay there together isn’t going to turn them into a band of happy Hare Krishnas.  They need a break from each other!

Silently panicking, Allegra did her best to hide it from Richie and plastered a smile across her face.  “That sounds great!  So Jon will be in your suite waiting for Richie?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“No, that’s okay.  We were finished anyway.  I think it’s sweet that Jon wants to put something special for Steph in the set list.  Richie will be happy to come and rehearse it with him.”  She tucked the phone under her chin.  “Is that okay, Sweetie?”

He couldn’t mask the confusion at what was going on, but agreed readily enough.  “Yeah, sure.  ‘I Got the Girl’, I’m assuming?  It’s been awhile on that one.  It’s a good idea to run it at least once.”

“Is that the song, Dot?  ‘I Got the Girl’?”

“Ohhh, you’re gooood,” Dot lauded, impressed with her quick subterfuge.  “Yeah, that’s Steph’s song.  I’ll call Jon and tell him to be in the suite.  You get over here!”

Allegra rang off and gathered her purse and jacket.  “Jon wanted to do something special for Steph tonight, to remind her how proud he is.”

Richie was immediately behind her, holding her chair and offering his arm.  “That’s cool.  We don’t trot that one out very often, so it’ll be a nice change for the fans too.  God knows I could use the distraction for the next couple hours.”

They slid into the back of the car that was waiting to courier them the short distance to the hotel.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Richie said when they settled in.  “I put a dress in the closet for you to wear tonight.”

She lifted a brow at him.  “Huh?”

“I don’t want you to wear it if you don’t like it, but I thought it would look nice.”  He bent to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss against the pulse in her neck.  “Something a little sexy.”

Heat rushing through her veins, she knew she’d wear it – no matter what it looked like. 

♪ ♫ ♥ ♫ ♪

Allegra stalked into the ballroom that would act as the venue for this evening’s fashion extravaganza to find Nikki in the back row looking completely frazzled.  She could see Dot’s dark head near the runway, where Steph was sitting, dangling her feet over the edge.

“Nikki?  What’s going on?”

The younger woman rose quickly, turning toward Allegra with huge eyes that went from hopeful to disappointed.  “Oh.  Allegra.  Where’s Richie?”

“He had to be someplace else.  Tell me what’s happening.”

“I… I wasn’t comfortable with this morning’s rehearsal, so I called one more.  I figured it couldn’t hurt to be over prepared.” She gestured helplessly toward the back of the stage.  “The models are bitching at each other and started making demands on which pieces they wanted to wear.  Now some of them are threatening to walk off the project if they don’t get their way.”

“And what have you told them?”

“I…Nothing.”  She scraped her fingers through already tangled blonde tresses, scooping it back into a makeshift ponytail before letting it fall around her shoulders.  “I’m a designer.  I’m an entertainer.  I’m nice to people.  I don’t know how to be a bitch and a dictator.”

For the first time, Allegra felt sorry for the girl.  She was still finding her way in this dream world Richie had bestowed upon her and she was doing the best she could. 

“If you’re a nice bitch, they won’t know the difference,” Allegra informed her grimly.  “Fortunately for you, it’s something I’m developing a knack for.”  She snatched the clipboard from the seat Nikki had vacated.  “Let’s go.”

Nikki’s eyes grew big again, but she only nodded and led the way into the dressing area.  She could hear a commotion that grew louder as they approached and, out of the corner of her eye, Allegra saw Dot sneaking in behind them to watch the festivities.

“Ladies!” Allegra greeted loudly with a press-worthy Bongiovi smile, as she entered the room.  There were roughly a dozen of them – not in all shapes or sizes, but in all different color schemes.  Redheads, blondes, and brunettes alike wore brightly hued clothing and dressing gowns as, what she assumed, were the WTB pieces were tossed amongst them.

“Excuse my tardiness, but I’m Mr. Sambora’s personal representative, and I’m here to tell you that he is very unhappy that this show is not shaping up to his expectations.”

An ivory skinned brunette mouthed off with, “This is a piss-poor managed show.  I should be showing that piece, not this one!”  The coveted dress was a slinky red number, which Allegra thought might look nice on her, but it wasn’t her call.

“Excuse me, what’s your name?”

“Nicolette.”

“Nicolette, I’m sorry that you feel that way,” she told the nearly emaciated woman.  “Regardless of how you feel about the management of this particular event, you were hired to do a job.  One that I believe you’re being paid quite well for.”  Allegra darted her eyes to Nikki who nodded.  “Your ability and willingness to do that job are directly related to the quality of this event and reflect on you more than anyone behind the scenes.”

The woman tossed her head, but didn’t offer further argument.  Allegra swept her gaze over the room, taking in each of the women there.

“If you would like to continue enjoying the benefits of employment, both now and in the future, I suggest that you get yourselves together and act like the professionals that I’m sure you are.  White Trash Beautiful is not a flash in the pan clothing line, ladies, and you would be well-advised not to cut your nose off to spite your face.  This will not be the last show we do.  L.A. and London are just starting points on the road to making WTB a household name.  If you would like the opportunity to rejoin us on this journey at a later date, I seriously recommend that you put your big girl panties on and deal.”

She glanced down at the clipboard in her hand, having no idea what would even be on it.  “Nikki, do they all have their assigned pieces and schedule of appearance?”

“Almost.”  The younger woman delicately plucked the red dress that had been in question from the brunette’s hands and passed it to a young blonde.  She then supplied Nicolette with her original ensemble.   “That’s it.”

“Perfect,” Allegra enthused.  “Ladies it has been a very long morning for all of you, I’m sure.  Go relax and enjoy yourself for the next couple of hours.  I’ve spoken to the hotel manager and they’ve made the spa available to you if you’re interested.  Enjoy the sauna, hot tub or a massage, compliments of Mr. Sambora.  Consider it a token of appreciation for your hard work.  I know that you’ll be the consummate professionals tonight making both yourselves and WTB shine like the stars you are.”

The women went quiet for a moment, only beginning to murmur words of gratitude as Allegra stepped out of the room.

Dot and Stephanie both waited in the hallway wearing twin looks of astonishment. 

“Allegra that was awesome!” Stephanie finally spoke, throwing her arms around Allegra’s neck in a hug.  “You were so professional and in charge!”

“Impressive,” Dot concurred.  “Richie is going to owe you something big and sparkly for that one.”

“No,” she said adamantly, passing the clipboard to Nikki as she joined them.  “Nikki had a problem and she took care of it.  I was just hanging out with you and Steph.”

Chapter 138

“You did fix him,” Jon remarked the moment Allegra seated herself beside him on the next day’s flight to London.

She smiled, fastening her seatbelt.  Whoever fixed who, the ‘fixing’ had lasted until well after the sun came up that morning.   “I don’t know about that, but he seems happier than he did when I got here.”

“Sweet Jesus, please just leave it at that.  I don’t wanna know no mo’!” He threw up his hands with a laugh.

Nudging him with her shoulder, she sniffed.  “Like I’d tell you anyway.”

She looked at Richie seated across the aisle with her heart in her eyes, pulse picking up when he felt her stare and threw a suggestive wink her way.

“You really love him.”

There was no censure in Jon’s voice, no judgment or surprise - just the statement of a simple fact.

“More than I ever thought possible,” she said with heartfelt agreement before locking eyes with her cousin.  “I know you thought I would hurt him, but I’m tellin’ ya Jon, I’d do whatever it takes to see him smile like that.”

“I know you would babydoll, and I’m sorry as hell that I ever thought any different.”  A quick squeeze of her arm, and Jon got down to business.  “Now.  I hear classes are going good and you’ve got some kinda business advice for me.”

With a roll of her eyes, she switched gears right along with him. Jon witnessed the visible change and experienced a moment of pride.  She’d come a long way through a lot of shit in the last six months.  It was about time she had some happiness.  For all the bitching he did, he was glad to have even the tiniest part in making that happen.

“Okay, so I’m doing this social networking thing in class.  Facebook, tumblr, Twitter, and that kind of thing.”

Jon felt his eyes glaze over.  Internet Hell was more like it.  His kids, brothers, employees and everyone else in the free world had been trying to get him on that bandwagon, but he had zero interest.  He liked to keep things simple.

“Jon?  You’ve heard of them before, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.  “The band has accounts on at least part of those, but I don’t twit or twat or any of that shit.” 

“Oh my God, you did not just say that,” she groaned, covering her face.

He purposefully schooled his expression so that it was blank and innocent.  “Say what?”

“Oh good grief.” 

He smirked to himself, knowing he would get away with the ‘social networking’ slander mainly because she didn’t want to repeat the word twat.   His recently reformed nun-ish cousin wasn’t quite that reformed yet – at least in front of him, thank God.

“Well, you obviously have some kind of disdain for them,” she jumped back into her spiel, “but they are easily the fastest, cheapest, most up-to-date way to reach your fans.  It doesn’t take two seconds to send a –“ she pinned him with a look that would make Dorothea proud – “tweet telling your fans where you’re at, what you’re doing or just to say hi and that you’re looking forward to the show.  The same thing with Facebook.”

“And why do I want to tell millions of people my every freakin’ move?”  He’d spent his entire adult life trying to keep his private life private.  The public had gotten used to it.  It was part of his shtick.  Why did he want to go inviting a everybody into his business now?.  Naturally, he loved his fans, but they didn’t need to know every time he took a leak.

“Because…”  There was that look again.  “It makes them feel closer to you – more involved.  You could even take song requests for the shows that way.  If they feel close to you guys, then they’re more inclined to buy the tickets and merchandise.”

Damn if that didn’t make at least a little bit of sense.   Sounding vaguely familiar, he wondered if somebody, somewhere had told him that already.   Probably, but he would at least do Allegra the courtesy of listening.   It didn’t mean he had to like it any better, but she was making sense. 

“I have thirty-two and a half million things I have to do before each show,” he told her stubbornly.  “I’m not adding this to the list, especially when I don’t like that shit to start with.”

“Okay, fine.  Then have somebody else do it.  Make guest appearances once in a while so they know you endorse what’s going on, but let Obie or Dawn or Abby or… whoever do it.  I think you’ll be surprised at the fan reaction.”

He didn’t want to.  The fans were loyal and they put on a hell of a live show.  It was enough to keep them happy.

“She’s your cousin and she’s finding her way.  Play nice!”

Jon had been married entirely too long.  The proof was in that he could hear his wife’s bitching – ahem, wise counsel – from across the ocean without the aid of a telephone. 

“Talk to Rew,” he finally grumbled, knowing that he’d end up with the live and in-your-face version of that if he didn’t go along peacefully.  “He can do it or find somebody else.  Whoever gets stuck with it, I want to talk to them personally and set some damn ground rules though.”

His eyes flicked across the aisle.  Richie’s head was tipped  back, a loud snore coming from his open mouth. 

Probably because he didn’t get any sleep last night, the lucky bastard.  At least he doesn’t seem strung tighter than a ukulele anymore.  That should last as long as Nikki kept her claws out of him.

Frowning, he realized that was unavoidable.  She was going to be in London for at least the next ten days. 

So much for Richie’s good mood.

Then, like the brilliant businessman he was, Jon experienced a spark of genius.  No, he couldn’t prevent Nikki from hanging off Richie’s sleeve and aggravating the crap out of him and everyone else – but he knew someone who could.

“Scratch that,” he amended his decision, shifting in his seat and clearing his throat.  “This is your idea.  You do it.”

“What?”

A flash of fear and insecurity swept through her eyes so quickly that he wasn’t sure it had even happened.  He withheld his proud smile.

Thatta girl.  Don’t let ‘em know you’re scared.

“The only stipulation is that you stay on the road with us.”  He was quick to add, “As long as your health permits, with the baby and all.  At the very least until the August break.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him in a show of bravado.  “You realize I have no idea what I’m doing?  And that even if I did, the Internet doesn’t have to be plugged into your butt to work.  It can be done from anywhere in the world.”

“I know that, Miss College Student.”  Damn if family resemblance didn’t suck when it bit you in the ass.  “But you need to be hands on for at least a while to familiarize yourself with the routine a little better.  You can’t tweeter random garbage out there.  Our fans are smarter than that.”

“It’s tweet,” she corrected in exasperation.  “Or Twitter.  Get the terminology right.”

He didn’t care about terminology and waved his hand carelessly.  “Whatever.  That’s my final say.  You do it or it doesn’t get done.”

Allegra narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously and he was afraid the jig was up.  While he appeared calm and collected on the outside, Jon was panicking irrationally on the inside. 

Dot taught her to read my fuckin’ mind.  She knows I want her tagging along to run interference with Nikki.  Now she’s gonna give me six different kinds of hell.  Dammit! 

Well who cared?  He wasn’t going to feel guilty about paying her to keep her boyfriend – and his guitarist – happy.  Although he should probably mention up front that he intended to pay her for services.  Last time he’d unexpectedly thrown money at her, she’d been all kinds of pissed. 

Mentally shrugging, he decided to let it go for the time being.  Richie could handle her temper.

Whatever was going on in her head, she pushed it aside choosing to ask instead, “So what about these ground rules you mentioned?”   A hand slipped into the back pocket of her jeans, and she pulled out her phone.  Thumbs poised over the electronic keyboard, she was ready to take notes.

Jon gave himself a mental high-five and rattled off half a dozen things that he wouldn’t tolerate going out from the Jovi camp – mostly personal and family commentary.

“That’s it for now,” he wrapped up, slapping his hand on his knee.  “Don’t make me regret this.”

Reviewing the list in her hands, she stuck her tongue out at him asked who had the passwords for the existing accounts.  Obtaining the necessary information, she gave a nod and shoved the phone back into her pocket.  “I’ll get started on it later today.  I have two more quick things and then I’ll go muzzle Snoring Beauty over there.”

Jon grinned.  She wasn’t completely blinded by love.  “Go on,” he encouraged with a nod.

“First of all, his birthday’s coming up and he left me an obscene amount of money in my checking account.  I’m going to spend it on a present for him.”

His grin grew even wider.  He was a complete moron for ever discouraging this relationship.  She was exactly what Richie needed.  How many other women would refuse money, then begrudgingly accept it so that they could return it in the form of a gift?

“Whatcha got in mind?”

Allegra looked past him to ensure that Richie was still sleeping soundly.  Seeing that he was, she lowered her voice.  “He got so excited about that guitar shop in London.  I think I want to get him a guitar, but I have no idea what I’m doing or even what he has.  Can you help me?”

“That’s like asking what kind of shoes Imelda Marcos has,” Jon told her with a snicker.  “I’m not into the strings like he  is, so I really couldn’t tell ya.  Talk to Takumi.  If anybody would know what kind of guitar Richie’s lusting after, it would be him.”

“Okay, I can do that.”  She nodded in satisfaction before her mouth tipped toward in a frown.

He would’ve known there was something else on her mind even if she hadn’t forewarned him.  And he didn’t like the vibe that was preceding it –it reminded him of the faint tremors before an earthquake.

“Babydoll?  You said there was something else?”

She shifted around in her seat to face him as much as the seatbelt would allow, folding her hands primly in her lap.  “I’m telling you this because… well, I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but I don’t want you to do anything.  I don’t need anything from you, this is strictly an FYI.”

“Okay, so tell me.”

Her lids fluttered shut as she drew enough oxygen to blurt out her news in one breath.  “Yesterday I found out why Mama’s been acting so strange.  She’s been drinking since I left the cloister and it’s getting progressively worse.  Daddy’s having trouble convincing her to get help, so he’s a mess trying to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself or someone else.  He insists he’s got it under control though, so there’s nothing for anyone else to do.”

Jon digested the flurry of words, studying his cousin carefully, a little concerned that she wouldn’t look at him.  “How did you find out?”

Allegra briefly explained about Therese and Michael’s phone calls to Richie.

“Well, dammit.”  He’d never imagined that giving Richie’s number to Michael would have that kind of fallout.  “I’m sorry, Allegra.” 

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” she assured him with a firm shake of her head.  “She was an alcoholic before she started calling to harass Richie.  I did convince him to block her phone number though.  He shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“Smart move,” he approved.  “But what about you?  You’re not feeling responsible for this are you?”

Hadn’t he just said she deserved some happiness?  When was she going to catch a break?  Well, if his whack-job aunt had to be forcibly dragged to rehab, he would see to it himself.   He couldn’t muster up any pity for her.  It was time for her to get a grip on her selfishness and worry about somebody else’s happiness for a change.

“Part of me thinks I am responsible – “

This was exactly what he’d feared.  Things were just starting to resemble normal and now she was going to feel like she had to crawl back under her mother’s thumb.  Well, to quote Richie, ‘over his dead damn body’!

“You’re not.  Don’t even think it!  Your mother – “

“You didn’t let me finish,” she interrupted.  “What I was going to say is that there’s a bigger part of me that knows I’m well within my rights to live my life anyway I choose.   I’m sorry she can’t accept that.” 

The metal clicked as she flipped open her seatbelt, bussing his cheek before she stood.  “Like I said, I’m not sure why I told you, but I thought you should know.  Now I’m going to wake Richie up before David starts stuffing marshmallows or something equally juvenile down his throat.”

Jon frowned, uncertain that she was as okay as she seemed.  But if she wanted to pretend, he could let her… for now.

“You don’t have to worry.  I think they ran out of new things to strangle each other with somewhere around 1995.”