October 3rd, 1986 / Sayreville, New Jersey

At long last, Jon had made it clear of the concert traffic. His old friend David was the only one that remained in the taxi with him, and it was clear that their thoughts were equally clouded with Amelia's sudden appearance that night.

"Want a beer at my place?"

Any chances of Jon sleeping had gone out of the window with Amelia's appearance; his mind was too burdened with her. David was the only person he could talk to about it all. Well, unless he was counting his own mother.

Lovely as his mother was, he never quite liked to confide in her too much with his personal troubles, especially when they pertained to women.

As he had anticipated, the moment they reached the Bongiovi family home the pair were bombarded with greetings from Jon's mother. "Oh look at you! Goodness, we saw you on television! I've never been so proud-"

Jon's father stifled a chuckle from across the room. Carol kissed each of her eldest son's cheeks twice, leaving small markings of lipstick on his skin before embracing him heartily.

He would've been embarrassed if David's mother weren't the same.

"And David! Jon didn't tell me you'd be coming, are you both hungry? Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks Mrs B. Got a belly full of beer."

Carol laughed. She had a melodious laugh that partnered perfectly with her flawless smile, it was no wonder she'd once been a playboy bunny. "Are you sure? How about you, Jonny? Do you want some of the leftover casserole?"

"No thanks Mom, I've had a couple beers myself."

During his embrace, John patted his son's back proudly and forcefully. "Well done my boy, you continue to outdo yourself."

He looked down to hide just how happy he was to hear that. Yes, he'd given it his all that night, and he wasn't sure how much of it was to do with playing Giants Stadium and knowing Amelia was watching for the first time. Besides, his father was much harder to get a compliment out of than his mother; in that sense it was more meaningful.

Carol was still fussing over the two men, or boys as she still saw them, continuously complimenting the show and trying her best to get them to eat something. If she had it her way, each member of the band would weigh three hundred pounds.

Jon loved her dearly, but her constant fussing over him only reminded him of just how badly he needed to get his own place.

Jon and David managed to make their escape up to his childhood bedroom, smuggling a couple of beers up with them. To Jon, the place was cramped. He'd lived in there since he was a baby and as he'd grown the room had stayed the same. He didn't find it fair that his brother's had the bigger rooms, he was the eldest.

It was arranged in the same way it had been when he was fourteen. Rock posters everywhere, an electric and acoustic guitar on the wall, some old football gear, and a rickety old desk that his mom had forced him to do his schoolwork on. Someday he swore he'd take that darned thing into the backyard and smash it to smithereens with his cricket bat.

Then again, it was never really him that'd used it. Amelia had used it to dutifully do her schoolwork while he lounged around with his guitar and begged her to entertain him.

On second thoughts maybe he'd preserve the desk for old time's sake- but in the attic, not his bedroom.

He flopped down onto the creaky single bed that he'd slept on for over a decade. A single bed, for a twenty-five-year-old man! He lamented it. Just another reason he needed to move out, he couldn't bring any girls home even when his family was out.

If he weren't so burdened, sleep would be an easy task. For once in his life the bed didn't look so bad, the springy mattress almost beckoned him.

David took a seat on one of the beanbags, wiggling his bum until he achieved a comfortable configuration. "I don't know why you don't sit on one of these things, they're way more comfortable than that thing you call a bed."

Jon gave an effortless and exhausted smile. "I'm used to it."

David didn't see how anybody could get used to such a thing. "Show was good today."

"Yeah, show was good."

"Amelia liked it. I think you mighta impressed her."

Jon stretched out on his belly and rested his chin on his forearms. Amelia, Amelia, she consumed his every thought.

"What's goin' on between you two anyhow, she's cold as ice when you're around."

"Glad you noticed."

As much as it pained him to admit, Jon really didn't know anything about Amelia's life after she'd moved to England. Only small slivers and dregs that Richie had mentioned to him casually. He knew that she took her degree and got the highest possible mark, beyond that she was a mystery.

"She's probably just moody as usual," David shrugged, "I mean, I love her but even I've gotta admit she can be miserable."

"Yeah," Jon conceded. "She seemed fine with you though, I noticed you got a big old hug. You know what I got? A couple 'yes's, 'no's and 'maybe's."

Not even a damn smile as if to say 'hey, it's good to see you, glad you're alive and well,' though he supposed he could only blame himself.

"Oh yeah," David laughed, "Man, she hates your guts."

"Looks that way."

He'd probably hate her too if she'd been the one to leave him hanging. But she hadn't, she'd stuck around and he'd fucked it up.

"She's probably just getting over the heartbreak, you know how women are with these things. Soon she'll be at your doorstep askin' for quickies, that's how it all starts."

Jon scrunched his nose. To him, Amelia had appeared stone cold, not heartbroken. Until she'd ran up to David he'd begun to question if she even had a heart.

"Amelia isn't that type of girl."

"Maybe England's changed her. Three years is a long time."

"C'mon David, she's a prude and you know it."

David snorted. "Prude or not, she won't like it when she sees the groupies all over you. Women get jealous, man."

Jealously? Was that what that was when she saw him with the two hookers today? No, he knew disgust and contempt well enough when marked upon her visage. He couldn't help but wonder what his reaction to seeing him would've been like without that blunder, would she have been happy? Would she have run into his arms like she did with David, kissed his two cheeks? No, probably not, but he might've earned himself a smile.

"She isn't the type."

"Every woman gets jealous!" David argued. "Whether they show it or not. And you don't leave a five-year relationship without a sense of longing. I'm sure she thinks about you."

"Maybe, but I know she won't just show up in my bedroom. She's not like that, her parents are crazy Catholics."

"Because that really worked out with Richie."

"Yeah well Richie's a nutjob anyhow, it's a miracle he don't have aids."

Or five hundred children with mothers begging for child support.

Richie was never absent of a female partner. Women gravitated towards his bedroom like rats with a sewer, only God knew what exactly was so irresistible about him.

"You haven't been a saint these past years either."

True Jon was no saint, but even God cowered from Richie's sins in the bedroom.

"What else was I supposed to do? Lay awake thinkin' of her every night?"

"If you were really that hung over about the whole thing you coulda called her, phone was right there."

"For God's sake David, you sound like Mom."

"The truth's always a kick to the butt, I wouldn't be your friend if I didn't say it how it is."

There was some truth in that, however David also had a tendency to be unintentionally callous and a little short-sighted. He liked to present opinion as fact in some overly pessimistic sense.

If David had it his way, Jon would never have approached Amelia to begin with. He'd identified her as a man-eating shark, somebody that would chew him up and spit him out all because she was pretty and popular. Of course, he ate his words, and Jon never fully trusted David's judgement again.

"Look, you want my opinion? Yeah, she's probably mad. Jetting off without her and leavin' her hanging? I mean what the heck man, but all she needs is a little buttering up. Life on the road and a little jealously will make her run back to you. And uh, an apology somewhere in there, an explanation too if you have one."

"Not really," he gulped, "I was just an idiot, and the Japanese girls practically jumped in my bed. What was I meant to do?"

"Well, I sure as hell wouldn't have done anything," David chuckled, "I mean, Japanese girls are a different breed. Freakier than they look, that's for sure! You'd think they were all innocent."

Jon wrinkled his nose. The Japanese girls on his first tour had introduced him to all kinds of things, any sliver of his innocence was gone after that.

"Do you think she thinks I cheated on her?"

That would explain her stoic disposition.

"Would it really matter? You were hardly together, I'm sure she realised that."

It haunted him to think of her at home in her childhood bedroom waiting for him to call her, meanwhile he was in bed with a venturesome Japanese groupie, sometimes even more than one. He hadn't thought of it so much in the moment but when left alone it plagued him. Was it cheating? The stuff on the first tour? Rockstars cheated, it was a given, he shouldn't have cared at all.

But he did care. In fact, he was ashamed. He was raised a good boy, there was no need to give up the loyalty drilled into him by his parents all because his peers said so. He knew Amelia would see it as cheating too, regardless of what she said. Maybe that's why she couldn't look him in the eye, because she somehow knew what'd happened on the road.

He'd become a stereotype without her to guide him, lost himself in the debauchery of the life he'd long lusted after. Now it all seemed so shallow, the drugs, the booze, the sex. He gave it all up sometime on the 7800° Fahrenheit tour. He rarely took women back to his hotel rooms, he only went to strip clubs to write, hardly drank unless to dull the pain. It was just typical and plain bad luck that the one time he'd toyed with pleasurable company publicly he'd walked right into Amelia.

"You made a lotta mistakes, Jon," David said, having noticed his reeling. "But you've gotta forgive yourself someday. Amelia's moved on, she's said she's happy, she doesn't hate you or anything."

"Oh, great," he muttered, tone dripping with sarcasm. "She doesn't hate me, whipdidoo, now how do I get her to tour with us so I can prove to her I'm not some walking chauvinistic stereotype?"

"C'mon, she doesn't think you're a chauvinist."

"Don't she? She saw me with those two hookers today, my tongue down their throats."

"What, sex is chauvinistic? Man, guess I'm an all-out pig!"

"You know what I mean. Walkin' around in the corridors with them on either side of me doesn't paint a great picture. I know Amelia, she probably thinks they're more like trophies than anything."

"Well they aren't, and she's smart enough to know that it's all in good fun. I'd be more worried about coming up with some excuse for leaving her hanging, that's if you want to find some way back into her heart. I doubt she cares you were fumblin' around, what else were you supposed to do, choke the chicken for a year? She probably had a couple flings herself."

Jon bit down on his lip so hard that blood spewed out of it. He masked the taste with a swig of beer.

"Oh," David teased, "Jealous? Come on, even I know you have no license for that."

"Amelia doesn't do flings," he reiterated.

To think of all the men she might've known in New Jersey drove him mad, never mind in England. Were they buff? Clever? Well-spoken? Handsome?? He supposed it never felt so bad when he was experimenting with women on tour, he knew not one of them could compare to Amelia. They were merely to stave off the boredom and inevitable spiralling of thoughts; it was a mutual agreement to use each other for the night.

But Amelia was Queen Bee of New Jersey, at least in their parts. Everyone had learned of the beautiful girl dating Johnny Bongiovi from the Fast Lane, the one with the guitarist brother that was forever changing bands. Most men were jealous of Jon, just waiting for him to slip up so they could snag her for themselves. David was probably right, she must've had a line of suitors, probably even some respectable ones that her parents approved of.

"Whatever you say," David smirked. "You're probably in luck, anyhow. Richie will badger her into touring with us."

"Yeah, but you know how stubborn she can be."

"But she's not dumb. A free trip across the world with free food, free five-star accommodation and a wage on top of that? You'd have to be crackers to turn it down."

"And what, you think she'll be my personal assistant?"

Likely story. Amelia would sooner lick the ground than accept a job as anybody's assistant, never mind his.

"Depends, how much did you offer her?"

"Thirty bucks, but it won't matter."

"You never know. New Jersey's stagnant, the three of us together might be able to convince her to come to Japan at least."

"Maybe," Jon conceded, channelling his mother's optimism. "But I want her to tour because she wants to, not because she needs the money. Thirty bucks is a lot for a silly job, I wasn't even gonna make her do much work."

"Hey, thirty bucks is thirty bucks! She's an adult, she can make her own decisions."

Well, he was right on that point. Amelia had always been very stubborn in her decision making, oftentimes her pride was her downfall.

"I guess."

David looked at his glum friend in pity. It was like the first few months all over again; broody, aloof, reeling. He supposed he didn't get it, love and all that. Love meant settling down, dedicating yourself to one person and suppressing any natural hedonistic tendencies. No groupies, no variety, all one woman, and women were no fun half the time. Not the respectable ones to settle down with anyway. Women were like his mother, telling him to stop drinking for the sake of his health and all that.

He'd fall in love in his thirties but not before then. He didn't want to be like young Jonny, hung up over his old sweetheart while women fell at his feet. But Amelia was special, even David knew that. For that reason he decided he'd try to help them both rekindle, at the very least as friends.

"It'll work out, man. She'll tour with us, you'll become friends again, I wouldn't worry about any of that. I'm more thinkin' about Richie, I mean he's gonna find out someday right?"

"That's not something I'm gonna think about. I was always ready to tell Amelia's family, it's her responsibility. Something tells me she won't mention it though. Actually, I think she's pretty keen to pretend we never dated in the first place, you saw her today."

"Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts." The pianist rolled his eyes. "Secrets don't last long on the road."

Then again, Jon and Amelia seemed to excel in secrecy. Richie, Adam, and Joan all remained none the wiser to their relationship. Of course, Richie wasn't dumb, but after years of practically bullying Amelia in attempts to steer her clear of 'unsavoury rockstar folk' like himself, he'd given up. He lost interest and stopped prying. He didn't know if it was one man or multiple men that'd broken her heart enough for her to flee to England, but in his drunkest and darkest moments he'd lamented to Jon about how poorly he dealt with the situation. He realised him and his father weren't blameless, their leash on her had been so tight that the moment she saw an opportunity she ran for it like a dog chasing its freedom into the wild.

"Nothin' lasts long on the road," Jon said bitterly.

"You're not the only one that got your heartbroken man, we all lost our girlfriends. Teek and Al got divorced. We all had to do our part for the band, all of us made sacrifices."

"Don't talk to me about sacrifices, they never even went back for their wives!" he lashed. "I went back for her only to find she'd taken off to fuckin' England of all places. And don't even mention Alyssa, only thing you liked about her were the two fuckin' bazookas on her chest."

"That ain't true," David objected, "She was smokin' all round."

"Yeah, and the only date you ever took her on was to your bedroom."

David searched his arsenal of witty remarks only none came to him.

"Well, so what. You gotta stop broodin' over her man, just talk to her! Y'know, woo her, cite some Shakespeare or somethin', pull yourself together."

"I am together," he said, sitting upright in bed. "And I'll talk to her whenever she calls me back."

If she called him back, but somehow Jon knew she would.

Not instantly of course. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of accepting his offer too promptly, she'd give him time to doubt her first.

David stayed in the guest room for the night, meanwhile Jon counted all the blemishes on the ceiling as he thought about Amelia. What was the best avenue into a women's heart? Gifts? Food? Words?

Well, he could write a song but he'd already written one. Food wasn't much help considering she'd probably stomp on his foot if he asked her to dinner. Gifts she wouldn't accept either, so he'd have to find some creative way.

But there was no use in thinking about it until morning, until she called him back.

David left around noon, by which point John and Carol had taken Matthew to school and gone grocery shopping. Amelia called at one o'clock.

"Hello?" Jon answered.

"Hello," she replied. Plain and bland with no cadence.

Jon had noticed something lacking within Amelia both last night and now; she'd lost her spirit, her energy. Jon had once treasured how energetic and excited she was able to be even in the dullest of times. Now, all her words seemed flat and lifeless, he didn't know what silly façade she was putting up but he didn't like it. This person, while it looked like Amelia, had none of her essence or temperament.

"Hey, how was your mornin'?" He asked, discarding his previous slightly morbid thoughts.

"Pleasant. I thought about your offer."

"Oh yeah. And?"

"The money is too good to pass up."

"Look, Amelia," he raked a hand through his tangled bed hair. "I wasn't really thinkin' when I offered you the thirty. I don't want you takin' it just because you need the cash, Rich and I can help if you're struggling. If you have any debts we can clear them."

That seemed to set off the short fuse that was Amelia Sambora. Her debts were not his responsibility, for him to attempt to swoop in and rescue her from her own financial situation showed ample arrogance. He was not her saviour.

"You have no obligation to help me." She kept her voice level. That seemed to be her new 'thing': a complete lack of emotion. "You wouldn't just give money to a stranger because you feel bad for them."

"That's called charity. What I'm trying to do is help a friend."

"I'm not struggling and I don't need your help, but thank you."

Worry contaminated his conscience. Her pride and stubbornness were second to none; Amelia would sooner starve than admit she was in need of help. For all he knew she could be in heaps of debt and penniless.

"Alright then," he compromised, setting his shoulders evenly. "So what do you want, are you taking the job or have you called up to reject me."

"Take it, of course. If some goose brain showed up and offered you thirty dollars an hour to schedule a few dates and make a couple coffees you'd be a fool not to take it."

Beyond being called a 'goose brain', the fact that she'd essentially proven David right ensured he ceased to play nice.

"Okay then, I rescind my offer. Ten bucks, take it or leave it."

He derived some pleasure from her gasp of horror; teasing one so prim and proper was great for the soul.

"What? You can't do that, you asshole!"

"It's a fair enough price, it's what you asked for."

Ten dollars was a generous deal but nowhere near the thirty that would've quelled her financial struggles.

"Well, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no, you're right, I shouldn't be trying to bribe you into touring with us. Now there's no monetary incentive I'm sure you'll be able to think clearly."

"I accused you of no such thing, and it was a perfectly sane decision!"

The detraction of the thirty dollars panicked her; she'd been all too ready to accept it and clear any meagre debts she'd accumulated in secret. Her father may have paid for her college tuition but living in London was no cheap-do.

"Well, Dave n' I talked it over and we didn't wanna pressure you. I'm sure you'll come to the right conclusion."

David? David her friend had conspired against her?

"Are you serious?"

How wicked of him, to build her hopes up and shatter them.

"Yeah. Hey, I give raises pretty easy. See how you like the job first, I can always get you on a better deal."

"You're cruel, Jon. I thought you wanted me to tour."

"I want you to want to tour. I'm offerin' you a deal where you live off the company and gain a wage on top of that, not exactly what I'd call cruel. And maybe next time you'll think before callin' your potential employer a goose brain. Take care Amelia, call me when you make a decision."

She scowled at the phone. He had hung up on her and already her mind as whirring with all the things she'd like to berate him with.

Ten dollars really was a great deal but not nearly as much of an incentive. She supposed that was why he'd done it.

Her brother reared his head around the door, as usual bypassing the common courtesy of knocking.

"Hey, what was that about? Sounded heated."

"It was your singer."

Referring to Jon as his relation to her brother was odd. She'd known him first after all. She'd known him better.

"Someday you'll learn how to get off with someone on the right foot," he smirked, taking the liberty of plopping down on her bed.

She didn't have the energy to scowl at him. Besides he was right, establishing rapport with people was not her forte.

"Yes, well it wasn't all my fault. He's an asshole."

Amelia was self-aware enough to know that she'd been rude, ungrateful, maybe even a little snooty, but Jon hadn't played nice either. Changing his offer to ten dollars would've been understandable, taking pleasure in her despair was cruel.

"He's the only decent guy in the band," Richie laughed to himself.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. Keeps to himself most of the time. He's a quiet guy."

'Quiet' was not an adjective she'd ever assigned him. Shy perhaps, reserved until one got to know him, but quiet? The man was loud without even talking.

"I see," she said. "You know, yesterday I saw him with two half-naked girls in the corridor."

"Hey, this is still rock and roll you know."

"And I'm not cut out for it." She placed her hand over her brothers and grasped it with a smile. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh, I don't know," Richie said, a sly smirk creeping up on him. "I haven't forgotten those days when you locked yourself in here to blast The Stones. Or those silly outfits you used to wear to school and all those hangovers I never heard the end of. You're not all-prude."

"I'm no rockstar."

"Well you don't have to be, it's not exactly Motley Crue around here. I'm your brother, Lia, you really think I'm gonna toss you into a wolf's den?"

She supposed not. He clapped her on the back and stood up to leave.

"He's dropping by later today," he said from the doorway, "Talk to him then."

Jon arrived at the Sambora abode mid-afternoon, welcomed by all but Amelia.

She had been sitting on the back porch all afternoon in the swinging chair. Her tea had long gone cold and the only thing staving off the August breeze was the thin blanket she'd cocooned herself in. And of course, she was reading Wuthering Heights.

Had she read it ten times? Yes. Did she find any single one of those characters appealing? Not the least, each was insufferable in their own way

But despite its shortcomings, there was something that drew her to the book. And it definitely wasn't Heathcliff, that 'man' was little more than a brute.

"Hey there," said a soft voice from behind her. She didn't have to turn to know its owner. "Shoulda known you'd be reading."

Jon took a seat beside her on the swing, causing it to rock back and forth. He dipped to peer at the book, smirking. "Oh yeah, Withering Heights."

"Wuthering," she corrected.

"Yeah, that. Nice day, huh?"

"Yes. So nice that I can't imagine moving away from here any time soon," she said.

Her mother's garden was adorned with all manner of flowers. In the sun it came to life, the array of colours transporting her from mere earth to some mythical world. Like Oz in technicolour.

Walking through the tall, wading grass made Amelia feel like a child stumbling through the flowerbeds, finding a spot to hide and read while her family searched for her.

Was it worth leaving all of this for ten dollars an hour? She'd missed home so terribly, maybe her mother could even teach her some gardening tricks.

"Not even to Tokyo?" Jon grinned.

"Tokyo?"

"That's the first stop on the tour, we spend about two weeks there. It's beautiful, the Japanese are miles ahead of the rest of the world."

"I've always wanted to go to Japan."

"I know, so what's stopping you?"

Amelia threw her head back, slouching in her cocoon. "Is Richie putting you up to all of this? Are you on his payroll?"

Such tactics weren't beneath Richie, actually they were very much like him.

"No, although he does keep askin'. I want you to come, Amelia. Come see the world with us, I know you'll love it. You'll make friends, the crew will be like a family. Richie worries about you all alone back here, he worried about you in England too."

His tone of voice had changed. He engaged her as a friend, not a professional acquaintance.

She wasn't sure she was ready to be his friend. Not after seeing those groupies with him, or after he dangled thirty dollars an hour within her reach.

And especially not after almost three years of radio silence from him. She couldn't understand it, it wasn't like he hated her. He spoke cordially with her, in fact he seemed nothing short of elated to see her again. So why hadn't he enquired? Where were his letters? His calls? The gifts he promised to send?

She supposed he'd fallen into the vices of rock and roll, but that didn't stop her from feeling slightly bitter about it all. She knew there'd be no grand explanation for his actions, no wonderous words that'd justify his complete disregard for her, and so she didn't try. She was content to pretend as though it never happened, to leave him to his groupies.

"Well I'm twenty-three, you needn't worry about me. I can handle it," she replied stalely.

"And what, you'll work in Burger King again?"

Apparently he had no problem with bringing up things from the past.

"You're better than that, you always were."

"Keep your voice down," Amelia chided, glancing at the window behind her. Thankfully it was closed. "And no, I'll make use of my degree. I'm sure some organisation is searching for an editor, I can write articles."

"Yeah, 'cause I bet writin' about psychopaths, politics, and changes in the weather's really fulfilling."

"I simply like to write. You enjoy playing music even when it's not your own songs, why shouldn't I like to write?"

"I only played other people's songs when I had to."

"You played other's songs while you drafted your own. I'll write for other people while I figure out what exactly I have to say."

Jon used his foot to push the swing back into action, something Amelia found intensely annoying whilst holding a cup of tea.

"Alright then, you can write on the road. You won't be working long hours, you'll have plenty of time to think, draft, whatever. You'll see the world, that'll give you something to say. When I wrote for the first album all I knew was love, there was no depth to any of the songs. We got a little better on the second album because we'd seen more than our damn backyard but it still wasn't right. We've seen so much by now, it gives you somethin' to say. I couldn't have written Wanted without having been on the road, and that's our best song."

"And what if I say no?"

She already had, repeatedly. What was he going to do, ask again?

Jon smiled at her. "Well, have fun writin' for the Evening News."

She cursed the humour in his eyes, the slight upward curve of each lip, the marginally raised brow. He fished around in his back pocket and retrieved a quarter.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna flip it and decide your future. Heads you tour, tails you don't. Ready?"

"You have a lot of confidence in a fifty-fifty."

"I have confidence in fate, baby."

He tossed the coin into his palm and flipped it, revealing it to her with his eyes closed.

"Go on, what is it?"

Of course it'd be heads, the universe was plotting against her.

"I hope that little toss wasn't binding."

"No, but here's my final offer. Fifteen bucks an hour. Hotel's paid for, food's on the company, no travel expenses, and there's an added flat twenty-four-hour rate. What do you say to that?"

Oh this whole thing was so.. so unfair! Why did it have to be Jon? And why, despite everything, did he have to be so fundamentally good. He'd have made a good salesman in another life.

Fifteen dollars an hour and every perk he'd just listed, all at the small caveat of being indebted to Jon Bon Jovi. Anita would be screaming at her in British words she didn't even understand.

Amelia could do much worse. Jon might not have been the romantic interest she'd once beheld him as, but he was still a good man. He'd look after her like a good employer should. And besides which, Amelia prided herself on a lot of things, self-restraint included.

How much would she really see of Jon on tour? Likely very little. She wasn't a fickle little girl that'd run back to him at the first sight of success. In that sense she was safe, and why shouldn't she accept his offer?

"I'll consider it if you answer me one question."

One question? There were a lot of ugly questions she could ask him that'd render him mute.

"Alright, hit me."

"How did Richie end up in your band?"

"That's all?" Jon laughed. "Well, he sorta showed up one night and said, 'I'm gonna be your new guitarist'. I shrugged him off a couple times, firstly because of his ego and secondly out of spite, but Tico and Alec made sure I took him on. Said he was too good of a guitarist to turn down, and I guess they were right."

First it was the eyes, then the name, then every description Amelia had ever provided of Richie made sense. Just two weeks after that heartbreaking night at the motel, Richie Sambora was standing in front of him for the first time. His eyes were the same as Amelia's, his disposition confident, secure, his intentions set in stone.

And he was arrogant, that was Jon's own observation.

His first thought was to punch him but his fist wouldn't move. Maybe it was his genuine grin, or maybe it was that he had too much respect for the Gibson guitar he'd send tumbling backwards. Either way the most he'd done was stare, probably looking like he had a few mental challenges.

"Oh, I see," Amelia said. She supposed she'd expected something a little grander, juicier even. For it all to have been pure chance was as boring as it was miraculous.

"Yeah. Took me a while to come round to him but we like him well enough."

Richie's ability to play almost anything on the guitar had been the main factor in Jon's initial liking to him. After realising how well he could play, the pair started writing songs together. It began with Jon singing the odd melody and having Richie play it back to him, something he'd never been able to do with his less-than-perfect pitch, but eventually Richie slowly started to make his own contributions to the lyrics, chords, and melodies. By the end of the first tour, Richie and Jon had developed a friendship even stronger than Jon and Davids'. Strong, but fundamentally flawed.

Jon stared at Amelia, who stared into her cold cup of tea.

"What ya thinkin' over there?" he asked softly.

On a cold winter's day his voice was akin to a warm blanket smothering her, fending off a cold chill. In the summer, it blew over her like a gentle breeze.

"I'll tour with you," she declared faintly, her words whisked away with the wind, "For fifteen dollars an hour."

Her tone was so dull one might've thought he was dragging her to his great aunt's funeral. Trust Amelia to be so begrudging about something so exciting as travelling the world.

"Alright, good. You'll love it."

Jon stood up before his grin became too conspicuous. He could fly high as the sky with all that happiness bounding around inside him.

"Seriously," he said when her face remained glum, "Thanks for doing me a favour, if it weren't for you I'd have to worry about findin' someone else for the job. You saved me a lot of nonsense interviews."

In the midst of it all, Amelia had almost forgotten about the actual job at hand.

"You're welcome," she mumbled, still no chirpier, "You did me a favour too, it's a generous deal."

One she'd be unable to find anywhere else. She stood and gathered the blanket, book, and empty mug.

"It's the least I could do."

She didn't know how deep that comment ran but chose to view it as harmless. A man looking out for his friend, his best friend's sister.

She started to go inside when he grabbed her wrist, disrupting her balance.

"Hey, you wanna catch up sometime? Grab a coffee or whatever. It's been three years, I've hardly even had a chance to speak to you since you came back."

Great, there it was, the first deviation from a professional relationship into an intended friendship.

"Well, I've been busy," she brushed off, "I've hardly even spoken to my family, you see. I should probably see them a little more if I'm to tour with you. Maybe on the road I'll get a chance to talk with you more."

Jon registered her cheap deflection and ignored it, for now. Perhaps she thought he'd be too busy to see her on the road, or that their schedules would overlap too frequently.

But he'd find the time, and he'd make sure they talked. He couldn't deal with these formal, almost robotic conversations.