3 - The Long and Winding Road

With an upcoming tour to plan, Jon had plenty to keep him occupied during the two-hour flight from New York to Montreal.  One would think after all these years, he’d be used to all the preparations that went along with staging a world tour – production, logistics, venues, catering, photo shoots, wardrobe, fan club…  The list went on and on, not to mention the endless hours of meetings, sleepless nights, and the paperwork.  Holy shit, the paperwork!

So much for bringing Bon Jovi Management into the green century.

Yes, he had plenty of people to take care of all these things, but he learned the hard way that it was best for him to be right in the middle of it all.  He was knee-deep in the muck and mire of details when Cynthia, the cabin host du jour, came to tell him to fasten his seat belt.  They were preparing to land at Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport, better known as Dorval Airport to the locals. 

Montreal.  It had been quite a while since he had been here.

Getting through customs was a breeze, which he was always grateful for.  He stretched out comfortably in the car that the hotel sent for him and sipped the Starbucks graciously provided by the driver.

From the airport to downtown, there wasn’t much to say about the scenery that consisted of mainly highways and industrial neighborhoods.  Ugly and depressing pretty much covered what would clock in at an hour-long trip on a good day.  Considering how anxious he was to get to the hotel, he hoped this was one of those good days.

Jon aimlessly fiddled with the phone he’d taken from his pocket, lazily flipping from email to a news app.  Contrary to popular belief, he was very tech savvy.  Nowadays, who wasn’t?   How else was he to keep up with the day to day of his business – and his kids for that matter?

Geez! It was hard having a good ol’ telephone conversation with them these days.

Pulling his eyes from the phone screen, he looked out the window and saw the beautiful skyline of Old Montreal about ten to fifteen minutes away. 

They passed the Basilique Notre-Dame, which was established in 1829 as a small replica of the Sainte-Chapelle Cathedral in Paris.  Jon had been in the church once or twice before.  He remembered its gothic architecture and the wooden carvings that were just amazing and made himself a mental note to try and visit again this trip.

When the driver pulled up to the front of the Saint-James Hotel, the car was greeted by a bellman who opened the door for Jon.  “Bon après-midi monsieur. Bienvenue au Saint-James Hotel.”

With a quick nod, Jon swiftly climbed the five steps and pushed through the oak framed glass doors.  He wove his way through the busy lobby to the Concierge’s desk.

“Bonjour Monsieur Bongiovi.  Welcome back!”

Looking at her name tag, he smiled up at the woman on duty. “Hello Gabrielle.  Thank you, it’s good to be back.”

While Gabrielle busily typed into her computer, Jon took in the old-world atmosphere the hotel possessed.  He truly enjoyed staying at this hotel.  It was someplace he could come and go as he pleased without the hassle of being noticed.

“Monsieur Bon...” Jon held up his hand to stop her from speaking, a twinkle in his eyes. “Gabrielle, please call me Jon, Mr. Bongiovi is my father.”

“Monsieur Jon, will you be using one of the usual aliases for your stay?”

“That won’t be necessary Gabrielle,” he assured with a small chuckle.  “It’s just me this trip.”

“Then you are all set.  We have you in our penthouse.  If there is anything you need, just let us know.”

Jon took his magnetic key card and made his way towards the elevators. Once inside his suite, he unloaded his luggage and opened the bottle of Pinot Grigio that was chilling in the ice bucket.  Pouring himself a glass, he took a sip and felt the chilled liquid coat his throat.

Since it was too early for dinner, he decided to take a shower.  He took off his clothes, piled them neatly on a chair and walked naked to the bathroom.  He set the water to be as hot as he could stand it and stepped into the shower. While feeling the weariness of his trip washing away, his mind started to wander.

Was it a coincidence or fate that the dart hit where it did? 

The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. When it came to the business portion of his life he was always sure of himself.  Even in doubt, he was ready to assume the consequences of his decisions and actions.

When it came to matters of his heart, however, it was a different story. 

He was so accustomed to hiding his real emotions in public, that it had become natural to do it in his everyday life – except where she was concerned.  Here in this city, this place… the emotions wouldn’t be bottled and the rush of deep feelings left him feeling unsettled.  Jon wasn’t sure what do about the feelings, but he knew he wanted to see her. 

He had to see her.  To smell her.  To kiss.  To touch. 

His fingers longed to run through her hair, and his arms longed to hold her close.  He needed to make love to her again – and again. 

Wet eyelids fluttered shut as memories of the last time they made love played behind them.  Their bodies tangled together in a human knot, connected at all the important spots.  He imagined the heat of her against him, and Jon’s body responded as though she was there. 

No.

There was no way he’d take matters into his own hands.  Not when he was this close. 

With an impatient twist of the wrist, he switched the temperature from hot to cold and finished up his shower.

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

Ariana crossed the lobby, blind to anything but aching chasm in her soul and the Concierge desk.  She needed something to numb the raw emptiness, and she needed it now.  Not sure what would get the job done the fastest, she requested that they send up some beer as well as some whiskey and tequila.  A warm bubble bath with her friends Jack Daniels and Josè Cuervo should do the trick.

Without taking notice of the elevator’s ping, she stepped into the long corridor and followed the plush carpet runner to her room.  The key card worked its electronic magic, and she passed through the open doorway into the living room.  Leaning back against the closed door, she slid to the floor and began to sob.

The relentless sobs came one after the other, and grief spilled down her cheeks until knocking vibrated the solid wood against her spine.  Sniffling back the ugly cry and fisting away the tears, Ariana forced herself to stand and answer it. 

She silently motioned for the waiter to roll his trolley near the table and made sure to leave a decent tip.

Kicked-off shoes landed somewhere near the sofa, and she began removing her clothes, too drained to care about where they landed.  They made a sloppy trail to the bathroom, where she slipped into the soft terry robe from its hook on the back of the door and shrugged it on before starting her bath water.   

A bath wasn’t effective without the soothing scent and bubbles of her favorite bath oils, so she padded through the suite’s rooms to gather them from her suitcase.  While she was at it, she snagged a bottle of tequila – and a beer from the ice bucket. 

The beer and bath oils were tucked under one arm so that she could twist off the tequila cap and take a long draw from the bottle.  Might as well get started soaking before she started soaking, she figured and wandered back into the bathroom.  

Parking her accessories on the edge of the luxurious tub, she helped herself to the matches so thoughtfully provided by the hotel and proceeded to light the candles nestled on the tub’s corner ledge.  A drop of this, a dribble of that and the oils were swirling fragrantly in the tub to complete the desired ambiance – pity party. 

Ariana tested the water with her toe and, finding it perfect temperature for boiling away her sorrows, let the robe slip from her shoulders.  She sank into the embracing water up to her chin, letting the gentle waves lap soothingly against her tired and stressed body. 

Ariana struggled to relax in the moment and stop her mind from dwelling on the future, but it wasn’t easy.  She wanted to keep the bar to respect her Mamie’s last wishes but, moreover, because it was the only part of her family she had left.

Taking another swig of tequila, she thought about the memories the bar held and could feel her heart starting to break all over again.

She had spent most of her early childhood years as well as a few summers with her maternal grandmother, because it was what her father had promised her mother. 

The mother she never knew.  

Childbirth complications had taken her away with Ariana’s first breaths.  Grand-maman Lili was the only mother she had ever known, and she was gone now.

Everyone she’d ever loved was gone.

Growing up, when she wasn’t with her Grandmother, she was on the road with her Dad.  They were like gypsies in the night.  Daddy – or Saly-Boy to some – was a roadie for one of the largest production companies in the music industry.  They would travel all over the world with some of the biggest and not so big names in the business.  So it was only natural that she found herself doing the same thing, and that’s where she’d been when the call came.

Not wanting to go down that path, Ariana rose from the bath and let the memories sluice off her along with the water.  She kicked herself out of memory lane long enough to dry herself off and pull on a tank top and shorts, and then climbed into bed with what was left of her tequila. 

Josè was a good friend, but it wasn’t tequila on her mind when she began to drift away.   

It was old times…  and him.