July 11, 2010
Saratoga Springs, NY: Saratoga Performing Arts Center
Ariana sat alone off in the corner of tonight’s catering tent. Her feet were up on the chair across from her, earbuds tucked in her ears, and her fingers swiftly pounding away at the keyboard of her laptop. Which was exactly how she’d spent most of her down time the last day and a half. Avoiding her husband or as well as anyone who had been in the emergency room after the Jersey show.
Except for him. Since the incident, they have been joined at the hip. Not because she needed his protection, but by her choice. Sitting quietly a few tables away, playing on his phone as he always did, Cliff glanced up now and then to make sure she was alright.
The Jersey show — things went from fun to insane faster than Jeff Gordon coming out of pit road as they carried Jon from the stage, reeling in pain after he finished not one but two fucking songs. People running all around as they put him in a chair, yelling for his wife then quickly whisked to the dressing room, so that Dean could get a look at him.
At the time, what Jon didn't know and what no one had the balls to tell him was they had already put her into one of the black vans kicking and screaming herself and were heading to Riverview Medical Center. This little ordeal had caused a spike in her blood pressure, and Dr. Cummings wanted to get her some place with the proper technology so she could monitor her.
When Cliff took the job as her personal security, he learned right from the get-go Ariana was a straight shooter. That night, though, was different. That night, he witnessed just how pissed off she could get. Pissed at Jon for continuing, pissed that no one, not even Matt, Paul, Dawn, or his own mother, could do anything to get him off that stage. She was pissed that no one even let her try, but she knew why. She knew if they had, she would’ve climbed those steps so fast and pull his ass off herself.
When they had finally arrived at the hospital, she wouldn't let anyone help her except for him. Once they were inside and situated, she had calmed just enough to allow Nicole to do what she needed to do. After a thorough examination, it was determined that the anxiety of what had happened and her slight dehydration caused the spike. By the time her fluid bag finished and her release papers were being printed, they were wheeling Jon into the next bed.
In the small tight-knit Bon Jovi circle he become a part of, he learned, Jon was known to have a bad temper, but after the other night, Mrs. Bongiovi could give him a run for his money. If not worse. She stood, planted at the foot of his bed with her hip cocked to one side, arms tightly crossed over her chest and her fiery green eyes staring down at him. Watching her, he could see the smoke billowing from her ears as she waited as the doctors feverishly worked on her husband and spat orders of what then needed done.
Once they were done and assured her he was going to live, they left the room. Leaving him, Matt, Dr. Cummings, Paul and Dean to witness the proverbial shit hitting the fan. In a combination of her native languages, she lit into him for his act of stupidity. Even in obvious pain, he went tit-for-tat with her. At one-point things got so heated, Jon’s monitors starting beeping. That's when Matt and Dr. Cummings tried to step in, but Ariana held up a firm hand, stopping them. And when she was finally done saying all she needed to tell her husband, she turned to where he stood at the door, looked him square in the eye and said she was leaving.
Cliff wasn’t sure what he had done to not be in her crosshairs, but here they were like that night, like all the others that followed, avoiding her husband and anyone who’d been in that emergency room that night except him.
When he heard her stop typing, he looked in her direction. She had her eyes closed and was rotating her neck from side to side. Pushing his chair back, he stood, “You okay, Lucy.” he called just loud enough for her to hear him.
“Uh-huh.”
A quick look over his shoulder explained the rolling of her eyes in acknowledgment.
“Hey, Cliff, can you give us a few minutes?” Jon motioned to the door.
“Sure thing, boss.” Laying a firm hand on Jon’s shoulder, Cliff gave her one last look before leaving them.
Limping across the room, Jon pulled out two chairs next to her and sat in the one closest to her. Then he rested his leg on the other. He waited to see if she would remove her earbuds. When she didn’t, he gently pulled the one closest to him and asked her to do the same with the other.
Reluctantly, and with a growl, she did. She even pushed her laptop to the middle of the table and rested her hands-on top of her stomach.
“Can we call a truce? My dick’s so hard, it’s turning blue.” Laughing, he caught her wrist just before it reached his face. “I’m kidding. Well, partly.” he winked. “So, truce?”
Ari just shrugged. She herself couldn’t figure out why she was still mad, but she was. At all of them. Except Cliff. He’d been the only one who stood aside and let her get it all out. Now, maybe the fact that he was her employee had something to do with it. Who knew? She just knew that he gave her the space she needed and was there when she needed him.
“Earth to Crash. I can’t fix it if you don’t talk to me.”
Digging the heels of her hand into her eyes, she tried to fight the tears she felt starting. “Argh!”
“What?”
“That right there. You calling me Crash.”
“I’m confused. You’re mad because I called you Crash?”
“No.” she shook her head.
“Well, then you lost me again.”
“Promise not to laugh?”
“Cross my heart.” He hooked his pinky with hers.
“Seeing you hurt up on the stage the other night and watching no one doing anything about it brought back flashbacks of Doc.”
“Doc? Why?”
“Because that's what he would do. He'd just sit back and watch as you strained your voice night after night.”
“But this was nothing like that.”
“I know.” Feeling silly, she looked down at his hand and her fingers traced his. “But I felt just as helpless back then, as I did the other night. No matter how hard I tried to get someone to do something, they didn’t. I know part of it had to do with you, too. Stubborn ass.”
“I’m stubborn? You’re the one not talking to me for two days.”
“What-eva-ah!” she smirked and gave him her signature eye roll.
“Ahh, there’s my feisty girl." he brushed her fingers with a kiss. "So, tell me what you've been doing for two days. Your head’s been buried in that laptop of yours."
“Sure, you wanna know?”
“You ain’t been reading the fanfiction shit again?”
“Nope.”
“Thank God.”
“I bought a loft.”
“You did what?”
Ari slowed her speech and sounded out each syllable. “I. Bought. A. Loft.”
“I heard you the first time. Where? Better yet, why?”
“Montreal. And because we are going to need a place. Lili’s house won’t fit us all.”
“True. But don’t you think you should have looked at it first? Did you put a hold on it? Do you need my lawyers to look at it first?”
“Dude, slow down. I was emailing the final papers when you came in. I had planned on talking to you about it this next week when we got to Canada. As much as I loved to stay over Petit, there is no way we would all fit comfortably without killing each other. The St. James is okay for now, but we will need something when you aren’t touring.”
“I still don’t get why you wouldn’t want to look at it first.”
“No need to. I know the area and the building it's in. They are beautiful. Open, exposed brick, arched windows throughout the whole place. Everyone will have their own bedroom, plus ours and one guest room. Same with bathrooms. There’s also an office, we both can share, and an entire floor that hasn't been renovated yet. We could make it a game room or studio. Whatever you want. The open living room and kitchen floor plan is perfect for hosting parties or just spending a quiet evening at home with the family.”
“It sounds amazing. Where do I sign?”
“That’s it? No questions?”
“Nada. If buying a loft is what you want, then it’s alright by me.”
“You don’t even want to know what it cost.”
“Nope.”
Ari placed the back of her hand on his forehead. “Hmm...”
“Funny.”
“Did you take one-to-many Percocet today?”
“Would you knock it off?”
“But aren’t you a tiny bit curious about how many zeros or whose checking account?”
“Crash, I. Trust. You.” he tweaked her nose. “Now shut up and show me our newest home.”
