Chapter 134 - Some Blonde Gave Me Nightmares

Jon takes a seat and cradles his head on his hands.  He pissed, upset beyond words.  He sits there for a moment and let's his thoughts go crazy.  He's hoping they sort themselves out before he acts on the one that speaks loudest to him.  He mumbles, "she's taking pictures of Rick fucking Springfield in the shower!"  

His rage raises, along with the headache that pounds at every heart beat.  "Rick fucking 

Springfield!"  With a deep inhalation he bolts to his feet, grabs his jacket from the wardrobe case, ball cap and decides he not doing this.  He's not going to sit by, idle, while his wife, his best friend is on the other side of the planet making a fool of him.  A mockery of their relationship.

As he walks down the arena hall, he meets Richie.  "I'm going to get drunk, wanna come?"  He pats his bandmates on the shoulder as he passes by.  

Richie turns to follow the man, he can see that he hasn't even showered yet, so he knows that's not a good sign.  "Hey, wait.  I'll go, I just need to change."  Jon stops and looks back at him, knowing he could always count on him.  "Gimme 5 minutes and we'll go."  He gives Jon a blank stare, knowing they were about to feed themselves to wolves, but Jon needed him.  Jon needed to be babysat.   

As Richie disappears into his dressing room, he yells to Jon, "How's Monica?  Did you talk to her?"  And he waits.   He knows the conversation didn't go well.  He's seen the look in Jon's eyes before, and when added to the fact that Jon is going in public, post show in his stage clothes and no shower - that tells him it went very bad.  "Is she loving the life of a tour photographer?"

Richie can hear Jon's "hmpf" as he leans against the door jamb.  He can hear the tapping of his toes, his excessive energy, so he leaves the topic alone.  He quickly grabs clothes from his street clothes case and throws his stage clothes on the floor.  As he dresses,  he adds, "Where are we going?"

For some reason, Jon can't make eye contact with Richie, and for whatever reason that is, he can't tell him what Monica is up to.  A deep down internal struggle is starting to boil.  How can he tell his wife's dearest friend that she's taking pictures of another man in the shower?  Who's he protecting,  Monica or Richie?

"I just need a drink.  I don't care where we go."  Jon states, with no emotion in his voice.   "There has to be a dive around here, somewhere."

Richie has never been one that deals with tension very well.  He's never been able to just accept things either.  He can see that Jon's in a place, so he tries to break the tension that he's feeling.  "What are we celebrating?"  He pulls his shirt over his head, "Other than this was probably our toughest crowd and we kicked ass."

"Not celebrating.   I'm going to find me the easiet blonde I can."

Richie stops and looks over at the man that's peeling paint off the wall with his fingernail.  "You're what?"  He can't believe he heard what he did. 

Jon doesn't respond with any explanation.  He just says,  "Let's get out of here."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The telephone ringing startled Jon awake.  Groggy and half asleep, he rolls over to answer it, only to be stopped by a woman sleeping, between him and the phone.  He freezes, the phone still ringing.  The woman between him and the ungodly noise starts to wake too, so quickly he snatches up the phone.  "What?!?" He bellows into the phone.

"Did I wake you?" He hears the sweetest sound on earth say to him.

"Yeah, kind of." With the phone to his ear, he hops over the stranger in his bed, not wanting her to wake up anymore than she already has.  He grabs the phone and drags it into the bathroom, his heart breaking at every beat, knowing he's done the unthinkable and she's still in his bed.  

Monica can hear the sleepiness in his voice,  "I just wanted to hear your voice.  I know you're mad at me, but I just want you to know that you have nothing to worry about."  She pauses, maybe hoping for an over reaction apology, but what she hears next threw her for a loop.

"Can I call you back?" He whispers, slightly mumbled.

Caught off guard by that, Monica agrees to a return call, "I love you, Jon"  she whole heartedly admits, "I'll talk to you soon."  He can hear her smile and that only adds to his guilt.

"Bye babe." He says and disconnects the call.  

For a moment he sits on the edge of the bathtub.  His breathing rapid, his hands shaking and the urge to vomit is overwhelming.  He stares at the bathroom door, knowing that just on the other side is a woman in his bed, that is not his wife.  He tries to recall the events of the night prior and his last memory, even being fuzzy, was of doing body shots off a stripper.   

Jon, naked and ashamed, grabs a towel off the towel rack.  Once it's wrapped securely around his waist, he exits the security of the bathroom and heads out to deal with the worst mistake of his life. 

Gently, he nudges the blonde that's sound asleep, face planted in the pillow.  "Hey."  She doesn't move.   Again.  "Hey!"  Still nothing.   He gives it a few minutes and firmly shakes her, "Hey, you gotta go."  

The blonde finally rolls over and looks up at him, "Are you ready for more?"  She smiles,  slides her hand up Jon's arm, hooking his neck, she tries to pull him close. 

Jon jumps to his feet, "You have to get out of here.  You have to go now."  He starts to swoop up her clothes, tossing them at her.   "Get dressed and go."  He states firmly.

"What's the matter baby?  Did you not enjoy last night and the sunrise?"  It was then that Jon looked at the time.   He's shocked when he sees that it's 2:30 in the afternoon. 

Jon was supposed to.meet the band in the hotel lobby at 2pm.  He's late and now he's borderline panicking.   In the midst of gathering his own things, he's lost in his thoughts of 'oh my God, what have I done?'

Knock, knock, knock.  His heart hits the floor, not only because it startled him, but also because he has no idea who's knocking.  He looks at the blonde who is pouring herself back into her dress, his finger goes to his lips as if he's suggesting that she be quiet.

"Jon!!!"  followed by another bang.  "Damn it, get up, we're going to miss out flight."  Jon has a fraction of relief when he hears that it's Richie.  His relief is short lived as he's still faces with having a woman in his room that wasn't his wife.

"I'm coming."  Jon replies,  just wanting Richie and the blonde to go away.  "I'll be right down."

Richie hesitates, his ear to the door, "Do you want me to grab you some food?  There's some left over from the management meeting, you missed."

"No.  I'm good, thanks."

By this time, the blonde is dressed and looking a little worse for wear.  She's sitting on the end of the bed watching Jon cram his things into his dufflebag.  Softly she asks, "Will I see you again?"

He stops what he's doing and looks at her, maybe a little cross.  He's freaking out that he's just cheated on his wife,  let his friends and bandmates down and here he is with the woman that helped him do all of that stuff, when it clicks with him.....she has no idea who he is.

Tossing his bag over his shoulder, snatching his lighter and cigarettes off the bedside table he answers her question,  "I don't get to Dallas very often, so no."  Leaving her there alone, Jon hurriedly gets his butt down stairs with his banmates. 

"What the fuck Jon.   We've been down here waiting for you for what felt like a lifetime, did you drink too much last night?"  Tico loudly asks the lagger as he reaches the group. 

Jon brushes the hair from his face and looks to each and everyone of them,  "Yeah, I'm sorry.  I did party to hard last night."  He bends over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath,  "Is the bus here?"

"Its been here, waiting for your pretty ass to get out of bed." Tico states.  "Can we get going?  The plane is waiting."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They thought that if they left the day after the show, they could possibly get out unnoticed and under the radar.  Sadly, they were wrong.  As they exit the back door of the hotel, they are greeted with a gaggle of screaming fans, with various ages and stages of excitement.   In the quickest and most professional way possible, they plaicated and tried to get to everyone.  

When they were finally done with the fans seeking anything, one by one they boarded the bus.  Jon gets on last and as his foot reaches for the first step he looks to his left and up to his hotel floor.  He feels sick.  Not hangover sick.   It was infidelity sick. 

The bus pulls away from the hotel.  He thought he'd feel better with each block it went, but it only made him feel worse.  He's getting on a plane with his best friends, ones that he'll now have to lie to and keep things from.