Chapter 2

Arriving back home, Jon was met by his three-year-old son.

“Hi Daddy!”

“Hi Jakey.”  Jon scooped him up for a hug and started walking towards the kitchen. “What did you do today?”

“Bugged Jesse.”

His ten-year-old’s words no doubt. “Wouldn’t he let you play with him?”

Jake shook his head, his bottom lip coming out in a pout. “Him had Paul and Kenny to pay wif.” His face brightened and he smiled. “But I hepped Mommy wif baby Ro. Him into eveyting!”

“I bet Mommy appreciated the help then.” Jon’s lip twisted into a smirk at the image.

Jake nodded. “Her said I was de bestest hepper her ever had!”

“You sure were.” Dorothea confirmed as they entered the kitchen where she was checking on the roast she was cooking for dinner. She glanced at her husband. “Hi. How did the interviews go? Any good prospects?”

“Maybe. Where are the other kids?”

“Steph’s keeping an eye on Romeo in the den and Jesse’s in the theatre with his friends.”

Jon dropped the folder he was carrying on the table and set Jake down, smiling as the toddler immediately took off out of the room. Stepping closer, he slid his arms around his wife’s waist and pulled her against him, dipping his head to capture her lips for a thorough taste. “Mmmm. Now I’m home.”

Dorothea hugged him, then leaned back. “Tell me about the latest batch of wannabe slaves.”

Jon released her and walked over to the cupboard.  Taking out two glasses he poured them some ice tea from the jug in the fridge. Returning to the table, he set them down, pulled out a chair and sat, motioning to his wife to join him. When she complied, he handed her the folder. “These are the ones I interviewed today.”

He sipped while she read through the resumes and gave her a rundown of his discussions with each candidate. When she got to Brianna’s he leaned forward. “She’s a fan, but doesn’t seem to be a rabid one, and she’s got some interesting ideas.”

Dorothea watched her husband’s face as he relayed their conversation. She hadn’t seen him this animated in a long time. The famous blue eyes sparkled, the lines brought on by age and deepened by stress eased and he looked more relaxed than he’d been in months. Apparently this woman had struck a chord with him. That alone made her curious. These days he was very cautious when meeting new people. When he finished speaking, she tapped the resume with a decisive finger. “This is the one.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Anyone who can get past your barriers and catch your interest in an hour is definitely the one you need working for you.” She glanced at the resume again. “And by the looks of her past employers she’s got the patience and thick skin needed to deal with your temper and perfectionist tendencies.” Unlike the last three.

“You make it sound like I’m an ogre to deal with.”

“Well, you’re not green and you prefer mansions to swamps and sushi to bugs, but….”

“Ha ha.” He wrinkled his nose at her. “I’m not that bad.” As one feminine brow lifted, he sighed. “Well, not all the time.” He leaned towards her. “Not when I’m with my princess.”

Delicate fingers stroked his cheek. “My many layered onion.”

A thought struck and Jon chuckled. “I guess that makes David Donkey?”

“Let’s see….annoying ass that never shuts up? Sounds about right.” Dorothea laughed.

“What..or who…does that make Richie?” His wife’s view of his friends and bandmates always made him smile – and were never far off the mark.

Dorothea thought for a moment before replying. “Puss in Boots. He doesn’t do the accent as well as Antonio – even though he thinks he can - but he’s as sneaky as a cat and always manages to get himself out of trouble with those big, sad eyed looks.” A few seconds later, her expression turned serious again. “What does she look like?”

“Does it matter?” He didn’t pretend not to know who she was referring to. They’d been together over twenty years – he knew how her mind worked.

She noted his defensive tone, but ignored it. “No, I’m just curious. Is she attractive?”

He shrugged. “I guess. She’s about five seven or so, dark red hair, not fat, but not stick thin either.”

“I’d like to meet her.” His brief description didn’t fool her. There was something in his eyes that told her he was downplaying her looks.

 His gaze turned wary. “Before or after I hire her?”

Dorothea chuckled and patted his hand. “After is fine. I’m not concerned. I trust you. You’re too smart to be that stupid…again.”

Jon snorted. “Thanks, I think.” He sobered and looked her in the eye. “I love you Dot.”

“I know you do. I love you too.” She leaned over to kiss him.

As she sat back he studied her face. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

“Just tired. Chasing a three year old and a fourteen month old around all day is exhausting.”

He grinned, knowing she wouldn’t have it any other way. She’d always refused all his attempts to get her some help. “Ready to talk about a nanny yet?”

But she surprised him.

“Maybe.”

Brianna hung up the phone and leaned back against the couch cushions, a huge grin slowly spreading across her face. She slapped her hand against the cushion. “Yes!”

Things were finally starting to go her way. Evelyn, the receptionist/office manager for Bon Jovi Management just called to tell her she’d gotten the job. She was going to be Jon Bon Jovi’s personal assistant! She was going on tour with Bon Jovi! She was going to meet Richie and David and Tico and Hugh! Taking a deep breath she admonished herself for acting like a hormonal teenager. She needed to calm down. She needed to be professional.

She needed to update her wardrobe!!

Checking her watch, she grabbed her purse and headed for her favourite stores. One of the best things about living in New York City was the proximity of the creations of all her preferred designers. Her one major vice was high end, quality clothing – at least in her work attire, since she couldn’t wear jeans and t-shirts – which her ex-husband fully supported.  He liked her to look ‘classy and uptown’.  Luckily, her career had always paid enough to support her addiction. Fifth Avenue and Soho were her playgrounds and she knew them like the back of her hand.

Four hours later she returned loaded down with bags, exhausted, but pleased with her purchases. There were a few office appropriate conservative outfits and some not as conservative but by no means slutty outfits that she thought would work for the tour. Plus a short black leather jacket she saw in Kenneth Cole’s window as she was walking by and couldn’t resist. Its classic lines and zipper detail on the cuffs – not to mention the numerous pockets – were the height of the current fashion, but would also never really go out of style.

To please her inner wanton, she’d also stopped at Victoria’s Secret. What only a few people knew – and none but her closest girlfriends since her divorce almost a year ago – was that beneath her conservative suits could typically be found bits of silk, satin and/or lace of the sort that was guaranteed to raise the male blood pressure, and lower their I.Q. She loved the contrast of prim exterior concealing a naughty interior.

Dropping the bags, she poured a glass of wine and settled on the couch with the chicken Caesar salad she’d picked up from the deli on the corner. While she ate, she glanced around her small apartment. It wasn’t as grand as the condo on Park Avenue that she’d spent the three years of her marriage in, but it was nice and suited her needs. It had two bedrooms, bathroom, open concept living room/dining room/kitchen and a large balcony.  The décor consisted of warm neutrals with a few splashes of colour scattered around – her favourite being the abstract painting of musical instruments done by Tico Torres. Her husband scoffed at her obsession with the ‘hair band trying to extend their fifteen minutes of fame’, but he appreciated art and recognized quality when he saw it and had given it to her for her birthday.  The most expensive component of her living space was the entertainment system – her other personal indulgence. The fifty-two inch TV and surround sound was the next best thing to being in a theatre….or at a concert.

And she really couldn’t complain. The prenup had been very generous. She hadn’t liked the idea of signing one, but Alex had insisted. And since he’d already been divorced once, she could understand why he’d be a little gun shy and want the financial details agreed to if worse came to worst while cooler heads prevailed. But she really should have listened to the first Mrs. Prentiss when she tried to tell her about her fiancé’s addiction to personal assistants. She’d been sure it was just the bitterness of a scorned woman, even though the pattern was right there in front of her – they’d both been his assistants before getting married.

But it turned out the warning was warranted. They were hardly past their first anniversary when she suspected he was screwing around, but he convinced her she was being paranoid and assured her that there was no one else for him but her. It took another year and a half before she finally had concrete proof – of the photo and email variety - and left him. When she’d calmed enough to ask him why, his response of ‘when the challenge of the chase is over, and I’ve won, I get bored and have to look for a new one’ had her wishing she’d never signed the damn prenup so that she could take him to the cleaners and hurt him the only place he would feel it…..his bank account!

The memory made her think of Dorothea. She wondered how the black belt felt about her husband’s personal assistants. She’d heard him say he hadn’t been a saint and had always assumed – hoped- he was talking about groupies and not staff members.  It would take an incredibly strong, independent, confident woman to stay married to and raise a family with a man like Jon and his lifestyle. The kind of woman Brianna had always respected but knew she could never be – she would never be able to control her intense emotions enough to be able to deal with that. The kind of woman you don’t mess with.

Salad finished, she cleaned up her dishes and took the bags into the bedroom to put her new clothes away. Then she thought about watching TV, but decided a bubble bath suited her mood more. She turned on the stereo, hesitated, the reached for her Bon Jovi collection and pulled out This Left Feels Right. The quieter, more soothing versions of the songs relaxed her as much as the hot water and lavender scented bubbles did.

Settling into the tub, she leaned her head back against the rim, closed her eyes and made a mental list of what she needed to do and in what order in the new job to get organized and to get a handle on what Jon needed and wanted. Her stomach swirled a little – not out of nervousness, but in anticipation.  

Now if only she could get some sleep.