29 - And I Love Her

It was still early when Silvestro dropped them back at the hotel. Ariana said her goodbyes to the older man, leaving Jon to make arrangements for his morning pick up. After leaving Silvestro, he stowed the bags with the concierge and made his way toward the Starbuck’s kiosk. "I figured I'd find you here."

 

"Hey, I ordered you one too," she replied.

 

"Thanks." His hand rested against the small of her back.

 

"Where’s the bags?" She leaned back into his hand.

 

"Had them sent up to the suite. I wasn't sure if you wanted to grab something to eat first?"

 

"Nah, this will do for now. Besides, I'm kinda tired. I’d like to go upstairs and just relax for a while. Is that okay with you?"

 

“That’s fine. We can order something later.”

 

“A-phel-ia! I have your Peppermint mocha and a black, no sugar,” the barista called from behind the counter.

 

Ariana stepped forward to grab their coffees. “Thank you.” 

 

 Jon stood there shaking his head. “I can’t believe you did that. What are you, twelve?”

 

“Oh, so it’s okay that your wingman does it, but not me?” She handed him his drink. 

 

Jon took his coffee with one hand as he led her out of the store with his other. “I expect it from Richie, heck, even Lemma, but not you”

 

“You remember I’ve been on tour with you? I’ll never forget the first time I heard some hostess call out ‘Aphelia Later’, the look on that poor girl’s face when she realized what she had just said was priceless.”

 

“Yeah, you can always count on them for a laugh. It was all in good fun. Most of the time, no one gets it. Goes right over their head.” 

 

They strolled through the lobby, making their way to the private elevators that took them up to the room. Tossing her bag on the table, she toed off her shoes, unbuttoned her jeans and disappeared into the bedroom. Thirty seconds later, she returned, having switched out her jeans for a pair of washed out black cotton boxers. They had the vintage Stones’ tongue logo that seemed to fit her in all the right places. She still wore his shirt, which was now unknotted and hanging open. The tank top she tossed into his bag replaced the bra she wore.

 

Ariana flopped onto the couch and extended her legs out in front of her, her heels making a little thud as they hit the coffee table and sighed.

 

“Nice shorts, by the way,” he remarked as he passed her on his way to the bedroom.

 

“These old things? Mick gave them to me,” she called back at him.

 

“Oh, it’s Mick,” he bellowed, taking his turn in the bedroom.

 

“You realize you're not the only rock star I worked for.” 

 

“Yeah... yeah.” He was now barefoot and wearing black sweats that hung low on his hips. “But we found you first.” He tucked his laptop under his arm and picked up their coffees, taking the empty cushion next to her. 

 

“Technically, it was KISS who gave me my first official job.” She reached for her cup.

 

“There you go throwing names around again. Next you’re going to tell me you have a shirt from that show somewhere.”

 

“Aww, baby, you know I have t-shirts from every tour I worked and then some, even yours. Next time I’ll break out my faded yellow Slippery When Wet one for you. Promise.” She reached for the throw pillows and rested them against his thigh. “Come to think of it, I may even have the matching thong,” she commented as she lay down next to him. 

 

“Smart ass.”

 

She reached for the remote from the table. “Do you care what we watch?” 

 

“Nah. I have enough to keep me busy.” His fingers flitted noisily on the keyboard.

 

Ariana lazily flipped through the stations until a shirtless, gun-toting Bruce Willis proclaimed ‘yippee ki-yay mother fucker’, then laid the remote down and rocked back and forth till she was comfy. It wasn’t long before Jon heard the steady sound of her breathing, showing she had fallen asleep. 

 

He spent the following hour answering emails, reviewing contracts, and reading over prospective tour plans. Next on the agenda were lengthy, detailed emails to his manager, lawyers, and accountants explaining Ariana’s desire to start her own company. He informed them they should hear from her directly and requested they give her whatever support she needed. Jon knew no one would question his request. They were all familiar with who she was, with her having worked for him before. The rest would be public knowledge soon enough. 

 

When he finished sending the last of his replies, Jon quietly closed his laptop and set it on the arm of the sofa. Trying not to disturb her, he interlocked his fingers together as he raised his arms over his head and stretched.

 

He loved to watch her sleep, always had. The rise and fall of her chest, little grins she would make. She could sleep just about anywhere. Wherever she could catch a few winks, she did. On a speaker, in a chair, even the lobby of whatever the hotel they were in at the time. It was how they first met and why he calls her Crash.

 

He felt himself grinning at the memory.  

 

She was just a kid; eighteen, to be exact. It was 1984, and they were opening for KISS at the Apollo in Manchester. Back then money was scarce, so after parties usually took place in the venue. The crew had been breaking down the stage in between partying, she had taken a break and fallen asleep on one of the trunks. That was when he saw her.

 

Her ponytail was all cock-eyed and pushed to the side, her feet dangling over the side of the trunk. The way her breasts moved up and down in her tight black crew shirt intoxicated him. It was the first time he watched her sleep.

 

He couldn’t remember how long he had been staring, but he remembered the smartass remark she gave him when she opened her eyes and caught him. She asked him if he ‘wanted a fucking Polaroid’. Of course, he had some stupid comeback about liking the ‘real thing’ better. Needless to say, he did not impress her and went about her business.

 

He spent the next few days off trying to find out as much as he could about her. Asking various crew members, he learned who her father was, which explained her spunk. Sal was a no-bullshit kinda man, and he admired that. He also learned that her mother had died when she was born and she had spent most of her life on the road with her dad or in Montreal with her grandparents.

 

Over the next few weeks, he had found reasons to talk to her. She was easy to talk to once she let her guard down. She was funny, too. They talked about everything and anything. 

 

She told him she was born in California, but split her time between Cali and Canada with her maternal grandparents because of her mother’s death and Sal’s job. Sal would take her with him every chance he could, and that was how she ended up in the business. They became friends by the end of the tour, with each promising to keep in touch. Sal had even given the band an open invitation to come play at Petit Soho if they ever made it to Canada.

 

The band made it big, and for the next six years wherever they went, the Moretti’s went with them. Jon had made sure of that. He had grown fond of both of them - Sal for his work ethic and Ariana for more reasons than he cared to admit. Ariana was his female version of Richie, without the boss’ bullshit. Even though he was technically her boss. When shit got crazy, he would turn to her. She would always let him vent before giving her opinion.

 

It was during the latter part of the New Jersey tour when things started to change. Tensions were high, the guys were getting tired, and someone was always bitching about something. Even the partying was getting out of control. Doc was getting on his nerves. Ariana seemed different. 

 

He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something had changed.

 

It was Super Bowl Sunday and their last night in Brazil. They were up early for sound check, and then it was off for some sightseeing with the crew. By the time they made it to the venue for dinner, he had had enough of togetherness and needed a break. He asked her if she wanted to eat with him in his dressing room, which they had done from time to time. 

 

They spent the time talking about the Super Bowl game. Agreeing to disagree about the how the game would end. Her ‘Niners’ were playing, and she was certain they were going to win.

 

He didn’t know what made him ask again, - he knew what the answer would be - but he asked anyway. He made the casual request for her to watch from the front rather than her usual spot backstage, and boy was he surprised when she agreed.

 

The crowd was on fire that night. He caught a glimpse of her while Alec played the opening chords to “Fever” and again during “Born to Be My Baby”. The way she was dancing and the look in her eyes...it was different. He didn’t remember why, but he could still remember the way she looked at him when he sang those words to her, for her. Words he had never forgotten, words that changed so many things. It was that night up on stage that he knew he wanted her.

 

“Baby, when I turn out the lights,

Every night I think about you, darling.

And I pray with all my might

That God and all the angels secure you so tight,

Cuz forever you’re my Baby

Baby you're mine... tonight!”

 

After that night, their journey was not always smooth, but one thing he knew for sure: they had always been there for each other. What started out as friendship had transformed into lust, made them lovers, and blossomed into a forbidden love that ran bone-deep for Jon.

 

Slowly and carefully, Jon lifted her head off his lap and stood. He retrieved the throw from the nearby chair and eased himself behind her, covering them both with the little blanket. He inhaled the scent he had become all-too-familiar with throughout the years and kissed her hair. 

 

Jon closed his eyes and heard her soft sigh as she let the weight of her body mold into him.