Chapter 132 - Sleep When I'm Dead

Monica couldn't sleep.  She tossed and turned, paced and peed unable to stop thinking about the letter that she recieved. 

 She can't imagine who on earth would want to pay her fifty thousand dollars to photograph them.  After she steeps a cup of tea, she takes a seat on the couch at the coffee table where all of the fan mail was left.  

Her husband still sound asleep in their bed.  She rummages through a few peices until she finds the one that has her consumed.  She opens it and reads it again, feeling almost a little thrill when she reads it.  In her mind, this tells her that she has finally made it.  She's finally locked into the career that she's wanted; doing what she loves.  

She sits there and ponders who, why and even the where of the mystery - never giving thought to when.  When was the least of her worries, she has already decided that whenever, she was going. As long as it was on the up and up and for someone that she thought needed to be worthy of her time.

She grabs another letter, one that's not been opened and she reads it.  She smiles when she sees words of love to her husband from a fan that lives abroad.  She folds it back up and places it back in the envelope for Jon to read.  

She reads another.  This one was to her, from a fan that was at her rockumentary when it premiered.  He gave her praisies for her shots, for her film, her choice of music but then he goes on to tell her that she's too good for Jon Bon Jovi.  That made her laugh.

Monica spent about an hour reading the fan mail.  The fan mail that had the occasional death threat and the stantard hate messages, as she let her chammomile tea do it's trick.  She was finally getting sleepy so she worked her way back into bed with Jon and fell asleep.

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Monica is startled from her slumber by Jon gently shaking her, "Babe, it's noon.  Are you going to sleep all day?"  He didn't come in empty handed, "I brought you some coffee.  Breakfast is cooking."

Monica rubs her eyes and yawns, "Why did you let me sleep so late?"  She takes the hot cup of heaven from his hand and leans up to kiss him.  "Mmm, thank you."

"Good Morning." he kisses her back.  "How did you sleep?" 

"Alright, I guess." she sips the potion that is bound to get her up and going.  "What about you?"

Jon gets up, kisses the top of her head.  "Well, I got up to take a piss and you were gone.  Went out and seen you in the living room.  What kept you up?"

"That letter." she admits, feeling a little silly.

"Yeah, about that - I called that George." he confesses, standing over her in nothing but his track pants.  His chest tan and hair, his hair long and messy.  To her, he's an Italian God.

"You what?" she sits upright, flinging the blankets back.

"I called."

"Jon...." she blurts.

He laughs at how dramatic she's being.  Not sure why she's upset.  "What?" he laughs as he backs up away from her.  "It was a simple phone call."

"That I should have made.  Jesus Jon, how unprofessional!"  she gets out of bed and slides her bathrobe on.  "That letter was to me and that's a call I should have made, not you!"  Monica leaves the bedroom and storms her way to the kitchen.  When she gets in there she can see that the bacon is getting a little too crispy, so she turns off the flame under the pan.  Jon follows her out.

"What's the big deal?" he asks her, slightly shocked by her reaction.

"Who was it?" she turns and looks at him, now hoping that it was someone lame and someone that she wouldn't want to work with, so she doesn't have to explain why her husband called.  "Who does George work for?"

Jon grabs the coffee pot and fills his cup, with no emotion or affect he just tells her, "Rick Springfield."

Monica plops down into the chair closest to her, stunned.  "THE Rick Springfield?" she's forgotten that she's mad at Jon.  "Dr Noah Drake, Rick Springfield?"

"He shruggs his shoulders, "I guess.  I didn;t talk to him, I talked to George."

"What did George say?" she has to know now.  She'll deal with her embarrassment later.  

Jon plates her bacon and eggs, placing it in front of her, "Well, Rick wants you to do for him what you did for Bon Jovi."

"Are you serious?"  Monica's mouth dropped.  

"Totally.  I told George you would call him this afternoon to discuss details, but they want you in L.A. as soon as possible."

"I can't go to L.A.!" she almost freaks out.  "We just got home."

"This is the path that you decided to take, babe.  It's not always going to jive and fit into your pretty little schedule." Jon reminds her subtly that she's now playing with the big dogs, in a market that's been potentially untapped.  "You have to go."

"As soon as possible?  I have no idea when that will be possible." she admits, taking a bite of her bacon, that was left unattended too long.

Winking at her with a coy little smile, Jon states, "You can go whenever you're ready.  There is nothing here keeping you from going."

Monica can't believe the words that just fell from his mouth, "What?"

"GO!" he jests, "This is your break babe."

She shakes her head, unsure of what's going on in his head.  "Just like that, GO!"  she mimicks him.

"Yeah.  This is your time."

"Are you going with me?" she holds her breath, knowing this is the test.

Chewing his toast he mumbles, "Depends on when you go.  You know I have things to do here."

Monica can't say another word.  She can see the cryptic writing on the wall, all of the sudden.  

"The guys and I are heading into the city today to scout studios for the next few tracks.  Do you want to go?"

Monica is stumped.  She takes a gulp of her coffee and looks around their living space.  She can see that Jon has read some of the fan mail and has set aside a few pieces.  She can see that he's cleaned up a bit and she can now hear the washing machine running.  "How long have you been up?"

"I climbed out of bed when you started to snore."

"You've been up that long?" she's surprised.  

"Yeah, alot on my mind and I had this lyric running through my head that I needed to get on paper."  He leans back in the chair, "Hard to sleep after being stuck on a bus for 2 weeks."

"What is it?" she wonders.  She knows that he's writtien some of the most beautiful lyrics that she's ever heard.  

"What is what?"

"The lyric that you had to get on paper?"