37 - Confessions

The lock on the door barely had a chance to catch before Dorothea turned, hands on her hips. “Sending the kids away to your parents was just a waste of time. I’ve already told you I’m not giving you a divorce.”

“For starters, I didn’t send them. She offered, and I accepted. We have things to discuss and I thought it would be better without them here.” Jon stood in the middle of the living room. He removed one of his hands from his pocket and motioned for her to sit.

 

“Fine.” She crossed the room to take a seat on one of the brown leather chairs.

 

Rather than sit, Jon stood behind the sister chair that faced hers, with his palms braced on the back. “You asked me how long I knew her last night.” He exhaled and hung his head. After a brief moment, he looked up at her. “Twenty-five years.”

 

The pained expression on her face showed his words had stung. “Continue.”

 

“It started as a friendship. Someone I could go to when I needed to talk, to vent. Someone who didn’t have a vested interest in me or the band.” He walked around to the front of the chair and sat. “We’ve been involved on and off for nineteen years.”

 

“Lovers. Isn’t that the word you should use?” she snapped sarcastically. “Pretty much our whole marriage. Hell, that’s our entire relationship.” Scrutinizing him with her eyes, she asked, “Why stay with me? Start a family?”

 

“Like I said, we were friends first.” He rubbed his brow. “She didn’t want to...” He paused. Not wanting to hurt her, he looked for the right words, knowing there were none. “… be the cause of my marriage failing.”

 

Disgusted, she couldn’t look at him any longer. She stood and walked to the window. “Hypocritical, wouldn’t you say?”

 

“Perhaps. But true. If you really want to know, it was me. I pursued her.”

 

“Don’t do that! Don’t defend her in my house.” she snapped at him over her shoulder.

 

“I wasn’t.” The conversation was strained enough as it was. He wasn’t about to add more to it.

 

She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared out over the New York skyline. “I’m guessing she lives in Canada.”

 

“For the most part.” His finger traced the seam on the leather chair.

 

“Does she have her own family?” Once the words rolled off her lips, she realized she might not want to know.

 

“No.”

 

“Of course not.” Jon could feel snideness in her remark.

 

Bracing the weight of his body on the arms of the chair, Jon pushed himself up. “Please don’t do that. You know nothing about her or her family to judge.”

 

His boot heels clicked along the wood floor as he made his way to the refrigerator. Opening the stainless-steel door, he removed a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, he guzzled from the bottle as he made his way back to the living room.

 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” She shot him a look of disgust.

 

“Not in the least. You can be mad at her and not like her, but judging her for not having a family? I won’t allow it.” Jon didn’t want to instigate a fight, but he wasn’t about to let her criticize Ariana for not having a family.

 

“Well, thank you for dictating how I should feel.” Dorothea’s voice was low but vehement. She faced him now, and her brown eyes burned with anger. “Why don’t you fill me in then? When did you meet?”

 

“When we were on tour with Kiss in 1984.” Jon sat on the arm of the couch.

 

Dorothea let that sing in and spat out. “So, she was just another groupie.”

 

“Actually, she was working.” From the expression on her face Jon could sense the wheels spinning in her head.

 

“Working what? Crew? Venue?” Her voice was sharp and cutting.

 

“Crew.”

 

His short answers were weighing on her nerves, but she needed to know if her hunch was right. “Lighting? Riggers?”

 

“Riggers.”

 

The room went silent. For once, the windows were still free from the wind and the harsh glare of the sun. Dorothea walked toward him, stopping about two feet in front of him. In a flash, the sound of her palm coming in contact with his cheek could be heard.

 

“You bastard. How could you? It all makes sense now. Why she was always on tour with you. Your frequent trips to Canada. Tell me, Jon, how many people knew about this little affair of yours? How fuckin’ many?” She fought back the tears.

 

Jon rubbed his fingers over his stinging flesh. “Six.”

 

“Jesus Christ! All these fucking years! I’ve been the laughingstock amongst these people, our friends and family. You really are a piece of work. So full of yourself! The all high and mighty Jon Bon Jovi!” She was yelling now, but who could blame her?

 

“No one was laughing at you, Dottie. Of the six, you know four of them. Three technically. We didn’t go around flaunting it and, as I said earlier, it was on and off over the years.”

 

Her eyes, moved up and down his face. “How thoughtful of you not to flaunt your mistress.” She paced back and forth, her hand running along the back of the couch. “Who knew? Let me guess Richie is one of them.”

 

“Yes. Richie knew. My mother and Tony.” His eyes followed her.

 

“Wow.” she was being sarcastic. “Your mother. Why am I not surprised? Tony? Now there’s the shocker.”

 

This has got to be all a bad dream. She mumbled under her breath as she stepped behind the bar.

 

Turning over the tumbler, she slammed it against the bar.

 

How could I be so stupid? Her head shook in disbelief.

 

Dorothea scanned over the array of bottles that lined the shelf until she found the greened-glassed, silver capped bottled with the red ‘T’. Cracking the seal, she poured the gin. She raised the glass to her lips, gulping its content greedily, grimacing as the liquid stung the back of her throat. Her furrowed brow didn’t relent its position, glaring at Jon as she slammed the glass down to pour another.

 

“So, let me get this straight. For nineteen years, you have been fucking one of your crew, not to mention all your other indiscretions.” She shot back another drink. “Gee, I wonder if Ms. Roadie of the year knew about them? While I stayed home taking care of our children, you got to run around the world playing rockstar. In the meantime, your mother, brother and best friend knew all along.”

 

One more drink slid down her throat. As the glass hit the bar, she let out a laugh. “Talk about irony. People actually look up to you. Rockstar, philanthropist, local boy makes it big, married to his high school sweetheart. The poster child for ‘the perfect rockstar life’. If they only knew just how fucked up we really are.”

 

She returned to the chair in which she sat when the conversation first started. Motioning to him to sit this time, she waited to do so. Rubbing her hands along her thighs before folding them in her lap, she started to speak.

 

“The other night when you asked for a divorce, I said no. Why? Because we had been down that road before and were able to work it out. But after your little confession, oh and I’m sure there is more that I haven’t heard, I’ve changed my mind.” 

 

She noticed the tension eased a bit in his face, “Now, don’t get too happy, you may not like what you hear. As much as I would love to drag your sorry ass through the mud and take you for every cent I’ve earned, I won’t. Because no matter how your lawyers or publicist spin this, I’m the one left looking like a bitch. So, we’re going to do things myway. Your little dalliance gave me that right.”

 

“First and foremost, I want you out of this apartment. I don’t care where. Just OUT!”

 

“Second. I want half... of EVERYTHING.”

 

“Third. You can’t go public. You started this affair as a secret and it will remain that way. At least until this is all finalized.”

 

Dorothea stood and took the necessary steps to reach the stairs, but she paused to turn around. “And Jon, the kids, we tell them after the holidays.” With that, she left him as she disappeared upstairs.