When You're Feeling Broke And Bruised And Sometimes Shattered

Hi,

While I finish up the next chapter let’s jump in our time machines and take a trip to 2003. Jon and Ari’s story is a work of fiction, no harm or disrespect is intended. 

Tori

November 2003

Half Moon Bay, California

“Sir? We’re here. Would you like me to help you inside?”

 

 “Noooo. Izzz gots it from here.” Fumbling with the door handle, Jon looked back at the driver. “Thanks.”

 

In his inebriated state, it took him a few minutes to finally get his key in the lock and stumble through the door – triggering the security alarm in the process.

 

Fuck!

 

Fuck!

 

Fuck!

 

Raking one hand through his hair, he used the other to flip the keypad panel on the wall. 

 

Please let it be the same code, he thought.

 

Squinting, he leaned in closer to better see what the fuck he was doing. Once he could actually read the control panel, he entered each letter carefully while reciting them aloud.

 

“C... R… A… S… H… annd… enter!”

 

A smile curled across his lips as the persistent beeping finally stopped. 

 

Dropping his bag to the floor, he tossed his keys in the bowl, then fumbled his way from the foyer to the kitchen. 

 

“Honnnnney, I-II’mm home!”

 

His voice echoed through the dark room and was the only sound to be heard.  

 

Just his luck that she wasn’t here. He probably should have called first, but his mind wasn’t in the right place to observe etiquette when storming out of the house. 

 

Walking over to where he knew she kept the heavy stuff, Jon grabbed the first bottle he saw, twisted the cap, and took a swig.

 

Of all the fucking things she could do to him.

 

Not Ari. No, his Crash would never do something this low.

 

Fucking Dorothea!

 

God knew he was the furthest thing from an altar boy, but she sure as shit wasn’t Sister Mary Innocent, either. 

 

Knocked up! 

 

The icing on the proverbial “Buddy, you’re fucked” cake.

 

One mother fucking test could give him the answer to the question he asked her.

 

Is it mine? 

 

He was no Einstein, but he could do the math—and something didn’t add up.

 

But no. She won’t do it. It’s her way of punishing me for all these years. Well, I’m done playing games. No test, no marriage.

 

Draining half the bottle in his hand, he reached for another and staggered toward to the patio and its welcoming lounge chair. He banged his shins on the side before plopping down with a sigh to toe off his boots.   

 

As he fell onto his back, his eyes drifted up to the comfortably fuzzy blanket of stars. They were pretty and peaceful, which wasn’t a bad thing. It just wasn’t the thing he’d come here for.  

 

“Where are you Crash? I need you.”

 

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

 

The Rolling Stones’ Licks Tour and Bon Jovi’s Bounce Tour combined had 143 shows, 7 continents and too many cities for Ari to remember. Sleeping in her own bed was going to be heavenly—once she got there.  

 

A roadie’s life wasn’t for everyone.    

 

“First in, last out” was what Sal always said.

 

She was approached by not one but two of the world's top selling bands, both of whom wanted her on their crew at the same time. It was hard to say no to that… and she didn’t.

 

As a result, she’d been “Bounced” and “Licked” all over the world for the last sixteen months—and it was just as exhausting as it sounded.  

 

As soon as the last case was closed following the last Stones’ show, she gratefully listed the Licks tour as one for the books. She wasted no time grabbing a quick shower and her backpack before hightailing it to the airport. She would undoubtedly catch slack from her crewmates–and Mick for that matter–for missing the obligatory end-of-the-tour after party, but she didn’t care.  

 

Her beach and her bed were calling her name.

 

Stepping out of the town car, she hitched her backpack over a shoulder and thanked the driver once more before closing the door. The faint smell of the ocean and crisp night air infiltrated her lungs as she took in a deep breath.

 

Home Sweet Home.

 

She didn’t care that it was the middle of the night. The sound of waves crashing against the shore lured her down the cobblestone path that wrapped around to the back of her house. It would only take a few minutes watching and smelling the ocean from her patio to soothe her travel weary mind and body. Then she’d sleep like a baby the minute her head hit the pillows. 

 

What didn’t expect when rounding the corner was… him. Asleep on the over-sized lounger.

 

More like passed out cold.  

 

To say he was disheveled would be putting it nicely. He looked like a bum who’d lucked into a comfortable gutter. There were empty bottles of Jack Daniels and tequila scattered on the flagstone, along with his shoes and a discarded blanket. His bare feet had sand stuck between the toes and there was easily a week’s worth of cigarette butts in the ashtray.  

 

The French doors leading into the living room were ajar, suggesting that her house was another wing to his gutter. She’d given him a key and alarm code years ago, so it was possible—and by the look of things inside, he’d been bumming it for a while.  

 

But why? 

 

They had talked a few times after her gig with Bon Jovi ended and again a handful of times while she traveled with the Stones. Nothing too long. Just their normal same ole same ole. A few times he was a little out of sorts, but she just chalked that up to his typical transition from “touring Jon” to “home Jon”. 

 

Whatever had happened, it was bad enough to bring him here without a phone call. 

 

Setting her bag down, she inched her way closer to him. 

 

“Done... Over… Not mine.”

 

The words made little sense to Ari, but they were the few she could decipher from the incoherent mumbling as he stirred. 

 

Not wanting to startle him or wake her neighbors, she whispered softly, “Jon.”  

 

Nothing. 

 

“Jon.” This time she gently stroked the leg that dangled from the chair’s edge, but still nothing. 

 

Gently sliding into the empty space between his legs, she caressed his cheek. “Jonny. Wake up.”

 

Heavy eyes fluttered open to the voice he’d been dreaming about, but it took another few seconds before Jon was oriented enough to realize she wasn’t a dream. He jerked into an upright position, grabbing for tangible proof that she wasn’t an illusion.

 

No. She’s here.  

 

“Crash. Baby, save me.” 

 

His desperate plea left her broken as reckless hands coasted along her body. There were only a few times she’d seen him like this, and tonight, like those other times, it tore at Ari’s heart. He needed her, and she’d let him take what he needed. It didn’t matter that they were outside or that it was freezing. 

 

She brought his face closer to hers until their lips were hard against each other’s—needy and forceful. They’ve made love many times, but this time would not be one of them. 

 

His definition of saving was uninhibitedness. Recklessness. Fuck me till the hurt is gone.

 

That’s what this was going to be, and that was okay.

 

Calloused fingers gripped her face with such force she wasted no time wrapping her arms around his neck. Her fingers tangled with the unruly ends on the nape of his neck as he bit her lip. Ari’s mouth parted, another breath escaping when he urgently massaged her tongue with his. 

 

Jon broke the kiss, breathless and puffing hotly against her cheek. “Pants. Off. Now.”

 

She stood to do as she was told, first toeing off her boots. The blue eyes fixated on every move were bloodshot and bleary, but that didn’t detract from the fact that they were flooded with lascivious want.  

 

No, need. Like he wouldn’t survive the night without her.

 

Her legs moved to straddle him. 

 

“No!” He took action, turning her so that she knelt with both hands braced on the back of the lounge chair.

 

“Crash, I won’t hold back,” he warned with a crack in his voice.  

 

She didn’t care, but there wasn’t time to assure him. A deep moan cut through the night as he entered her in one swift movement – and he didn’t stop there.  

 

His pace was viscous, each slamming thrust harder than the last. Callused fingers burned her hips, and their scalding fingerprints were all that kept her from being driven further up the lounger. He wouldn’t let her escape the demons that chased him, and those horny devils wasted no time in ripping the first orgasm from her body. His name was an unintelligible cry as her body convulsed around him.

 

Jon was still a rock-hard presence inside Ari as he flipped her and pressed her into the cushion. Instinctive legs wrapped around his waist as tumultuous blue irises begged for salvation, and his furious pace began again as he chased it. Over and over, he pounded into her until it was no longer clear whether he was chasing or being chased.

 

Each rhythmic beat was accented by the tormented cries of “Liar! Done! Bitch!”

 

In the space of each breath, Ari soothed, “It’s just me. It’s just me. It’s just me.”

 

Squeezing herself around him, she could only hope he knew she was there – with him, for him – to give whatever he needed to take.

 

The second orgasm washed over her just as violently as the first, and her heels dug into denim that had been pushed down just far enough to get the job done. Convulsions shuddered through her in waves, settling into nothingness when she felt the deep rumble of his release against her neck.  

 

His forehead was tucked into the crook of her shoulder, with the only sound that of Jon’s labored breathing as he recovered. When it slowed, Ari cupped hands over stubbled cheeks, tilting his face in the moonlight.  

 

She found his turbulent eyes were no longer saturated with chaos but had calmed like the sea after a storm. As he held himself inside her, they were placid reflecting pools of sorrow and forgiveness that disappeared behind closed lids as his lips crashed against hers.  

 

She parted readily, accepting his tongue, and going a step further to deepen the kiss. Stealing the very breath from him until he broke away, rolling them and tucking Ari close.

 

“Crash, I’m...”

 

“Sssh.” She kissed his cheek and drew up the fallen blanket to cover them.  

 

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

Thanks to jetlag and Jon, she got little sleep that night.  

 

The sky shifted from black to pink as the sun slowly crested the horizon, and a new day spilled brilliantly over ocean ripples while Ari replayed events in her mind. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen him in that state, and every time he’d call her to come save him… she had. 

 

This time, she wasn’t so sure she could. 

 

“Whatcha’ thinking ‘bout Crash?”

 

Pushing herself up, she sat cross-legged to face him. “Hey you. How long have you been up?”

 

“As long as you.”

 

“Why didn’t you say something?”

 

He touched soft lips to her fingertips, brushing them gently with a kiss. “About last night…”

 

“Jon. if you’re going to apologize, don’t.”

 

“I said some pretty harsh things and had no right to.”

 

Closing his eyes, Jon tried to clear events of this last week from his mind.

 

“Look at me,” Ari commanded quietly, waiting until she held his gaze before continuing. “The physicality of last night is not what I’m worried about. Finding you passed out drunk in my backyard and not knowing why you didn’t call is. How long have you even been here?”

 

“I dunno. A week, maybe? The days and nights started to blur into one.”

 

“I can see why.” She waved her hand at the empty bottles. “Wanna talk about it yet?”

 

He knew prolonging the inevitable would only make this harder. There was no easy way to explain the situation other than to just say it. 

 

“Dorothea’s pregnant.” 

 

“I see.”

 

Jon sensed the slight change in her body language and reached for her hands. “I’m not sure it’s mine.”

 

“Why do you think that?”

 

“Jesus Christ, Ari. I’m not a fucking idiot! I’ve done the math,” he declared with venom.

 

Tossing the blanket off her shoulders, she snatched her hands from his and stood. “I’m not the bad guy here, Jon. So, when you’re ready to talk to me, I’ll be inside.” 

 

“Wait.” He caught her wrist as she started to leave. “Don’t go.”

 

This wasn’t their first rodeo and definitely wouldn’t be the last. In all their years together, she’d never taken any of his crap. She sure as hell wouldn’t start now, but if he wanted to talk and be reasonable, she'd listen.

 

Sitting back down, Ari combed her fingers through his messy hair and invited, “Start from the beginning. Then we’ll talk.”

 

She listened to him talk for the next half-hour, allowing him to repeat things she already knew because it seemed like he needed to say them. Allowing him to explain the math he’d done.  

 

It had been three months since he’d been home when Dorothea drop her little “bombshell”, as he called it. At first, he said he was dumbfounded, because they were supposed to be done after Jake. They’d both agreed to it, which was why his next reaction was to ask if he was the father.  

 

That was when the proverbial shit hit the fan, as he put it. 

 

At this point in the story, Ari could see his demeanor changing, so she patted his hand gently and retreated inside for a minute. When she returned, it was with two glasses and a fresh bottle of Jack Daniels. She settled next to him on the lounger and handed him the first filled glass.  

 

While she poured herself one, he continued by revealing Dorothea’s flat refusal to have a paternity test. That was the breaking point and when he threw some shit in a duffle bag before she’d even had the chance to respond to his ultimatum – have the test done now, or he was gone.  

 

He’d just left.

 

“And here I am.” He brought the glass to his lips with a sigh.

 

“Can I ask you something without you biting my head off?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Don’t be a dick. You know exactly what I mean.”

 

Jon did. Whether or not he liked it, he was about to get the Moretti special—sit there, shut up and listen. And if he didn’t, he’d be left sitting out in the cold with nothing but that half bottle of Jack and a blanket.

 

“Would it make a difference if the baby isn’t yours?” He opened his mouth to answer, but was silenced by the index finger she pointed at him. “Hear me out. There’s a good chance you are the father, but if you’re not, what would change?”

 

“Dammit! That’s not the point!”

 

“Then what is? You can’t possibly be mad at the notion she cheated? That’s a little ‘pot calling the kettle black’, even for you.”

 

Frustrated hands raked through his hair. “One motherfuckin’ test! That’s all I asked for.”

 

“Did you stop to think about how Dorothea felt?”

 

“How she felt? I’m the one who was blindside here.”

 

“But were you? You just said that you both agreed you were done after Jake. Maybe Dorothea was just as surprised.” 

 

“Care to explain it to me?”

 

“Let’s be honest here. We all know you’re not living the celibate life when you are not on the road.” His head slowly lowered. “Un-huh. Look at me.” Once she had his undivided attention again, she continued. “You don’t get to do that with me. Got it!” he simply nodded. “All I’m saying is maybe Dorothea was just as surprised to find out she was pregnant and when you started fling accusations and ultimatums at her, she threw one back at you. One you didn’t like.”

 

Reaching for her hand, he brought to his lips and caressed each fingertip with a kiss before settling their joined hands in his lap. “How do you do that?”

 

“What?”

 

“Help me realize when I’m wrong without coming out and just saying it.”

 

“Well, I'm good at doing that, too.” They both laughed. 

 

“Don’t I know it.”

 

Standing, she extended her hand for him and pulled him up. “We good here Jonny?”

 

 “Yes.” he kissed the tip of her nose.

 

“Good, cause you stink. But I think you should call home first.”

 

She waited until he rounded the corner towards the bedroom before reaching for the bottle and headed towards the beach. With each step, she fought the rollercoaster of emotions she’d been holding in since she saw him lying on that damn lounge. When she reached where the water met sand, she plopped down and exhaled. Hearing him say those two words had more effect the fourth time than the first time she heard them. She had no right feeling this way, but she did. Oh, she knew what they had was wrong on so many levels, yet it hurt just the same. Taking a swig, she let the golden liquid coat her throat as her tears did the same to her cheeks. She’d allow herself this moment before putting on her brave face and head back… to him.