5th January 1987 / Houston, Texas

Amelia had heard many things about the band that called themselves 'Mötley Crüe' and the various characters that comprised it. She was not disappointed.

The four men had an air about them that reeked of rock and roll. They were as sleazy as they came, almost to a distasteful degree. She wasn't sure what to make of them or the knowledge that they'd be playing a small number of shows with Bon Jovi, she almost couldn't imagine the two groups getting along. Mötley Crüe were sleazy, unsavorable; they lived up to just about every rock and roll stereotype. She couldn't imagine Jon being any more fond of them than they were of him, they were entirely different characters.

There was another band, too. A more permanent fixture in the Bon Jovi tour schedule; Cinderella, a band that hadn't yet established themselves a reputation quite so grand as Mötley Crüe's. Upon first inspection Amelia found those folk much more agreeable, Tom Keifer more closely resembled Jon in his more pleasant attitude towards rock and roll. Overall, the four of them seemed far more respectable.

Still, there was always something about a bad boy, especially ones so charming as Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee.

The three bands played a sold out show together in Texas, and while Cinderella had happily accepted Bon Jovi's more famed status Mötley Crüe had argued that their part of the show should be equally proportionate as Bon Jovi's. Amelia simply didn't understand that argument, it was a Bon Jovi show, Cinderella and Crüe were merely add-ons to it. Already she was getting a sense of oozing self titlement, most notably from Nikki Sixx and Vince Neil.

The backstage rooms were packed after the show. The stench of sweat and liquor was enough to make anyone grimace, particularly Amelia. It was louder too with the four obnoxious characters present. She'd never thought anybody could be more obnoxious than her own brother but Nikki Sixx was managing to outdo him with ease. It was blatant that he thought the absolute world of himself, his sloppy and supercilious smile was a permanent fixture to his annoyingly attractive face.

Amelia, as per usual, handed Jon his post-show hot chocolate. He returned his usual smile of gratitude and ritualistic nod. As she turned to leave, Amelia overheard a comment from the man adjacent to Jon.

"Hey Jonny, what's this? You got yourself a servant?"

The man, Tommy Lee, tensed beneath her death glare. "Woah," he held his arms up. Amelia grimaced. The stench coming from him was bad enough already, he didn't need to release his armpits into the atmosphere. "Sorry doll, didn't mean to offend ya."

Obnoxious, arrogant, pretentious, there were too many negative adjectives to count. How could Jon hang around with a man that so casually flung comments like that around, he'd said it as though she wasn't a real person, as though she really were just a servant girl.

"No, she's not my servant."

Amelia glared warningly at Jon, a silent but very clear command for him to stand up for her.

"She's my assistant," he coughed a little. His voice strengthened, eyes glancing worriedly between the pair. "And she's my friend."

"Ooh, friend?" The man whistled cockily and drew Amelia in by the hand. "Say darlin' you look familiar. Have we met? I seem to recall doin' the midnight tango with a little lassie that looked a lot like you."

The response was a sharp slap to the cheek. Tommy's mouth fell open in a rather amusing state of shock, eyelashes fluttering continuously for a short moment. "Well well," he whistled. "Feisty. Who got your panties in a bunch?"

He was unbelievable, intolerable! "You're disgusting." She cursed herself for not having a better response. She often wished she were wittier, she wished she could conquer people through intellect and cleverness but often ended up relying on her raw talent for insulting people, or slapping people.

"Disgusting?" Tommy laughed, bolstering himself up with renewed arrogance. "Now darlin', there was no call for insults."

"Wasn't there? Your own comments were unsolicited. I can say with great relief and a clean conscience that prior to now I'd never met you, Tommy Lee, and I'd never lower myself to tango with a man like you."

Jon's hot chocolate bubbled with his sudden spurt of laughter. In mild fear of Tommy's pride he attempted to hide his face behind the mug.

"Oi, shut your trap pretty boy, it ain't funny."

Clearly it lowered Jon to respond to a nickname like 'pretty boy', but Tommy seemed to have a one-up on Jon. Perhaps it was being in the business for longer, or maybe it was that Tommy was considered 'infinitely more rock n' roll' than the more pensive and quiet Jon, but Jon seemed afraid to contradict the man to any capacity. Or possibly, quite likely, Jon truly were just non-confrontational. "Sorry man, it's just I've never seen a woman shut you up like that before."

Amelia didn't think she could say anything to shut him up, it was evident he loved the sound of his own voice far too much.

"Oh yeah? Who is she, anyway." Tommy turned back to Amelia and laughed a little. "Sorry doll, I should be askin' you. Who are ya? I recognize ya, though I know better now than to ask if you've ever been a groupie."

Amelia schooled herself into a state of calm, calling on every ounce of etiquette and diplomacy she'd ever learned. When speaking to these types of people it was best to rise above than sink to their level. "No, I've never been a groupie," she responded. "My name is Amelia. You couldn't possibly recognize me because I've been in England for the past two years and I've never been to a Mötley Crüe show in my life. I am, however, the younger sister to Richie, some of our features may be reminiscent of each other's."

"Sambora!" The man jumped in his seat and snapped his fingers. "That's it, I know a Sambora anywhere, one of a kind! Richie's sister, eh? Now that you mention it I do recall him talkin' about a sister."

Amelia noted the redness rising to his cheek. Not a blush, but instead a fleeting bruise from where she'd smacked him. She was almost proud of the sight of it, something about smacking arrogant men that have an unreasonably tight hold on your wrist and regard women as pieces of meat gave her great joy.

"Well, at least now I can see where all the good Sambora genes got to." He flashed a wink.

"If that's your attempt at complimenting you'll have to do better, I've heard nothing but the same thing for months."

Tommy leaned forward with a hooked finger on his chin. "And what could I say to you that might impress you?"

"Not much, I fear."

"Hard to get I see." Amelia disliked the way his tongue poked through his teeth when he grinned. "Go on, try me. Ask me somethin'."

"Do you read, Mr Lee?" She enquired, conscious of Jon watching their every move.

"Read? Sure, I read."

"Books?"

"Books? Magazines, catalogues, it's all the same isn't it."

"Magazines," she uttered. "No doubt pornographic in nature. I wonder, have you ever read a well-established body of writing? A novel, perhaps?"

"Ooh," the man whistled. "What do we have here, a literary snob? Let me guess, English was your degree subject. That's what you studied in England? Two years?"

"Yes."

"Predictable," the man grinned. "I love a well-read woman, intelligence is sexy. Wouldn't you say so, Jonny?"

Jon briefly detached his mouth from his hot chocolate mug. "Absolutely!"

Amelia beheld them both and their oafish grins. "How lucky I am to receive the approval of two distinguished gentlemen."

"You can hardly call him distinguished." Tommy waved a dismissive hand in Jon's direction. "Anyway, I like you, kid. You always tourin' with this lot?"

Kid? If her calculations were correct Tommy Lee was in fact younger than her. Younger by a mere few months, but younger nonetheless.

"Yes. Why, are you angling to hire me?"

Tommy leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "Need ladies like you around to keep us guys in check, I'm sure I could find a spot in our entourage for you."

"There won't be any need for that, I'm quite happy where I am."

"Well, if you ever get sick of these guys you know where to find us. And while we're here I hope to see a lot more of you." He stood and chucked his beer can into the trash, discreetly fist thumping the air when it scored. He turned back to Amelia with a flashy wink.

"See ya round, Princess."

She kept her scowl minimal as he left, taking another two half-drunken beer cans with him.

"How can you enjoy his company?" She turned to Jon. "He's an asshole, the perfect definition of an asshole."

"Oh, I know. They're Crüe, what did you expect?"

"A certain level of professional decency."

Jon couldn't help his chuckle. "From Mötley Crüe?" He threw a limp arm around her shoulder. "Oh darlin', you're too innocent."

She threw the arm away and scowled. "I am not innocent. Why Mötley Crüe? Why couldn't you hang around with any other kind of decent band. Another band like Cinderella! I'm sure someone like Aerosmith would never be like this."

"Well, Aerosmith are a lot bigger than Crüe. Crüe have been with us from the beginning, we've known 'em for years and they've been pretty good to us. Gotta pay 'em back, y'know?"

Amelia grimaced audibly. "But they're so unpleasant! Noisy, obnoxious, chaotic, not to mention rude." She glanced over at Mick Mars reaching into his pants and adjusting himself. "And disgusting."

"That's pretty tame if you're talkin' about Crüe. If you think Tommy's bad then you should meet Nikki."

"I don't want to be acquainted with any of them. How long before they leave?"

"About a week."

"Why do they have to share their backstage area with you?" She asked. "They completely take over, I can't hear anything but them."

"You'll get used to it." He patted her shoulder softly. "Besides, they're our friends I guess. I'm gonna get outta here, you're welcome to join me."

"Back to the hotel?"

He nodded.

"Oh god, yes. Get me out of this squalor."

†††

Mötley Crüe's essence was so overpowering that by day three it was starting to get on everybody's nerves.

Jon had been right, as soon as Amelia met Nikki she knew she instantly disliked him a great deal more than Tommy. She didn't know what to make of Vince, or Mick either really, she'd had the greatest pleasure of not having to converse with them.

Jon had insisted she be present for soundcheck. He was doing that a lot, insisting she accompany him to his interviews, photoshoots, soundchecks etc. His explanation was that he didn't want her hanging around in the hotel alone all day, she hated to admit it but being around other people often had done her a world of good.

Well, except for when those people were Mötley Crüe.

She crammed herself into a small area among spare amplifiers and equipment. She doubted she'd be visible there, much less that someone would bother to disturb her when she was so clearly preoccupied.

She knew the Bon Jovi crew would never have done such a thing but what she hadn't accounted for was Mötley Crüe's obnoxiousness. Her hands flew to her ears the moment she heard the clatter of two cymbals sound at once.

"Sorry darlin', didn't see you there!" Of course, it was Tommy Lee on the drums and not Tico. "Why don't you come over here?"

Oh, she wanted to do anything but. Nevertheless she picked up her book and made her way to Tommy.

"Sorry 'bout that," he snickered, "Ears okay?"

"No, I think you burst my eardrums," she mumbled, wincing at the slight ringing sound as she spoke.

"Oh, you'll get used to the loud noises the more you tour. You ever played the drums?"

"What?"

"I asked if you've ever played the drums."

"No, of course not."

"You wanna?"

"Not particularly."

"Sure you do. Come sit."

Tommy shuffled backward on his seat and patted his lap. Amelia just about fainted. She looked around desperately hoping that Richie or even Jon might step in, but alas they were both busy with the technical side of soundcheck.

"Absolutely not."

Tommy rolled his eyes and took her by the waist. She fell rather disgracefully into his lap, her face mere inches away from his stubbled chin. Flashing a quick grin, he took her by the hips and swivelled her around so she was facing the drum kit.

She whipped back around to look at him. "If I had it my way you'd never do another show with Bon Jovi again."

"Well good thing you don't have that sort of power," he grinned.

"Just you wait till I tell my brother about this, he'd beat you to a bloody pulp for even daring to touch me."

"Alright, alright. It's all in good fun, darlin'. Now here, take these."

She did so reluctantly. She'd never held a pair of drumsticks before, they were lighter than she'd expected.

"Now then!" He began with extreme enthusiasm. "You know the names of the drums?"

She embarrassingly shook her head.

"A'right, well down here we got the bass." He pushed his foot on a pedal, the loud 'boom' attracting the attention of a few passerby's. "This is the snare. Tom drums, high-hat, crash cymbals. Got all that?"

"I think so."

"Good! First thing any drum tutor'll ever teach you is how to play a four beat rhythm. You know what that is?"

"I think I might," she said. She was familiar with the most basic forms of music theory, she could discern what a four beat rhythm was from its title.

"Right. Four beats on the high-hat, one, two, three, four," he demonstrated. "On beats one n' three you'll play the bass drum, on beats two n' four you'll play the snare drum. Once you get good you can start spicing it up with the cymbals and groovier rhythms, but for now we'll stick with the basics."

Everything he said went straight in one ear and right out of the other. High-hat,  that's what he'd said, right?

She went to hit the high-hat only for it to clatter noisily. Tommy laughed at her. "Darlin', you've gotta press the pedal. Here, I'll do it for ya, try again."

The noise it made was much more agreeable. She hit it four times, though the rhythm was clumsy and amateurish.

"Pretty good, but slower." He counted out the rhythm for her, one, two, three, four. She was getting the hang of it. "Good, now add the bass drum. Beats one and three, remember? Don't worry about the snare just yet."

She struggled for a few moments. Each time she hit the bass her other hand seemed to stop annoyingly hitting the high hat. Amelia knew she'd never have the patience to learn an instrument.

Tommy took hold of her wrist and guided her, eventually she had the whole thing down without Tommy's aid. She was playing a four beat rhythm!

"Pretty good." Amelia looked up and found her brother in front of her. He glanced between her and Tommy and their compromising position. "I always said you'd be a good musician."

"She's a natural!" Tommy chuckled. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to his chest. Amelia's scowl was enough of a reminder for him to keep his hands to himself. "I'll have to give you another lesson tomorrow. I better get goin' before your brother gets his hands on me."

He helped her up from his lap with again only a wink as a departing gift. Amelia was left alone with her brother.

"You alright?" She asked.

"Yeah. What's your fascination with the drums all of a sudden?" His plectrum balanced between his lips while he fiddled around with the tuning pegs on his guitar. "You've never asked Tico to teach you anything."

"I didn't have much choice in the matter, Richie," she muttered. Always protective, always overbearing. "He just.. well, he sort of grabbed me and pulled me into his lap."

Richie's eyes flared. He spun around to find Tommy on the other side of the stage. "Why, the-"

Amelia grabbed him before he could make a fool of himself. "Don't," she said. "He's not worth it."

"What do you mean, Amelia? He can't just.. he can't just touch you like that."

"I'm sure that he touches many women like that. Perhaps if he weren't constantly surrounded by enablers like yourself then he wouldn't feel like he had a license to touch women without their permission. As it stands, you would've had absolutely nothing to say to him had it not been your sister he was touching."

"Don't say that," he spat. "If I saw anyone touch a woman that didn't want to be touched then you know I'd make sure they never again saw the light of day."

Amelia shook her head, she didn't want to deal with Richie. Despite his words she knew he'd never have batted an eye had some other girl been sat in Tommy's lap, no matter how uncomfortable she looked.

"Hey." Richie grabbed her arm before she could leave. "You alright, Millie?"

"I hate it when you call me that," she grumbled. She didn't understand it, how had the name 'Millie' become a nickname for 'Amelia', the two hardly sounded alike. And what's worse? Even people like Jon and David had started calling her Millie after seeing how much Richie used the nickname.

"Amelia," Richie corrected. "Are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know, Tommy, Crüe. Jonny tells me you don't like 'em."

"How could anybody like them?" She scoffed. "How can you like them?"

Richie shrugged. Amelia yanked her arms out of his grasp, picked up her book and stalked off backstage.

Tommy had witnessed the small ordeal. There was a reason he and Nikki had gained the nickname the 'Terror Twins'. Tommy loved to be the catalyst in chaos, he loved egging people on until they eventually snapped, he even loved the satisfaction of getting into brawls with them.

He again approached Richie and leaned his upper body on one of the nearby amplifiers. "You alright man?"

"Fine," Richie responded sharply.

"Your sister's real beautiful, and she's got a natural talent for music. She ever played anythin' before?"

"No, nothing," Richie muttered. "And keep away from her. My sister doesn't want the hassle of dealing with you, she's not built for rock n' roll."

"Oh, I've hit a nerve." Tommy grinned.

Richie wouldn't rise to the man. "Just keep away from her, alright?"

"No promises Rich. I'm quite taken by her."

Richie's nostrils flared as the man brushed past him and back to his drum kit. He began to play what Richie thought he recognized as Mötley Crüe's Red Hot.

He took off down the steps of the stage and wandered down the front aisle. He hated drummers, or at least drummers that weren't as considerate as Tico. How could he tune when Tommy was making that god awful racket?

He was quite ready for Mötley Crüe to leave again.

†††

Once again they performed another successful show together, though it wasn't devoid of its arguments.

Amelia hadn't watched the show that night, she'd stayed in the dressing room reading her book quietly. That short moment of peace was interrupted the moment everybody hurtled back in. Bon Jovi, Mötley Crüe, Cinderella, all of them competing in an unspoken contest of who could be more obnoxious and overbearing than the others.

It seemed Jon were the only one with an air of common sense about him, for instead of joining the rest of the hooligans in bounding around the room like a pack of untamed dogs, he took a much needed seat. He buried his face inside the fluffy towel Amelia had given him and used it to wipe away the beads of sweat forming at his brow. "You want a drink?" She asked, rubbing his back.

He was too breathless to reply, panting like a dog in a heatwave. The sight was enough to tug even on Amelia's rigid heart strings, the man looked as though he could collapse at any moment.

"I'm fine. I've got my water."

His voice was gone again, or perhaps he was simply winded. Either way when he spoke nothing but a small wheeze of air came out.

"Alright." She took a seat beside him. "When we get back to the hotel I can get you some honey."

"God, I'm sick of honey," he grumbled like a child who didn't want to eat their vegetables. "It's too damn sweet, I feel nauseous every time I have it."

"It'll do you good." Amelia patted his knee. "It'll help your voice."

"You sound like my mother." He turned away from her in a small tantrum. Amelia's brows flew upward in surprise.

"Your mother cares about you," she felt the need to remind him. "She hardly ever sees you and when she does you're always sick."

"I'm not sick."

"Don't be foolish. Your voice is shot and you're burned. I've been worried about you."

Jon paused for a moment, his eyes peeking over the towel that he'd been using to dry his face. "You have?"

"Yes, of course I have. Bon Jovi has become so corporate all of a sudden, you've hardly taken a break, you're sick and they're still pushing you to go out there."

"The shows are sold out," he frowned.

"Yes, and they're also cancellable and postponeable. If you aren't careful you'll burn yourself out completely."

"Are you crazy? I can't do that." His back straightened in defense. "I can't do that to the kids, they're the reason we're here! I can't cancel on 'em."

"If they were really your fans they wouldn't want you to go out there and hurt yourself, they'd want you to take a break."

"Well I'm fine," he muttered, and even then his voice was hoarse. "I ain't sick, Amelia. I feel stronger than I've ever felt."

"That's the adrenaline. You're weak, Jon. Your vocals are weak and are only getting worse."

"And who are you to judge that?" He shifted into attack mode. "Don't you fuckin' say that about me, my voice is all I got."

She snatched his hand warningly. "Don't. Don't be stupid, you know that isn't what I meant. You go out there every night running around and screaming for three hours straight. Even with training that'd be a draining feat but your technique is improper, your singing is only going to get worse the more you strain yourself, Livin' on a Prayer is going to wreck your voice sooner or later."

"Well that's why we got the playback machines to boost me," he muttered. "They're there for backup."

"The playback machines make it sound better, yes, but they don't do anything to stop you from overexerting yourself."

"Well, I'll be careful."

Amelia dragged her chair closer to Jon so her voice might be more out-of-earshot. "You're going to end up hurting yourself." She grabbed his arm and rolled up his sleeve. "Look at you. My mother was right, you have gone too skinny."

Jon yanked back his limb and pushed his sleeve back down.

"When you take your shirt off I can see your ribcage," she whispered harshly. "I don't like it Jon, it's dangerous, you're putting yourself in harm's way."

His jaw set itself squarely. "I've always been skinny, Amelia. Ever since I lost my teenage weight I never put it back on. You know I've never liked how thin I was, you don't have to use it against me."

"Oh don't be absurd, don't try and make it out as though I'm insulting you, just don't." Jon's masseter twitched. "You've never looked like this before, never. You've been thin but not like this, you're skin and bone."

He pulled the towel around his torso feeling suddenly conscious of himself. He could admit to himself that he was skinny but touring was unavoidable. To him the two matters were entirely separate, performing was his life, the band's life, everybody he loved relied on him financially, he couldn't stop.

"I don't mean to upset you, and I certainly don't mean to insult you, but myself and a lot of other people are extremely worried for you. I know that you feel you have this commitment to your fans but you have to prioritise yourself, if you aren't in good health then you can't give them the shows they deserve."

Jon always had this 'A Captain Goes Down with his Ship' mentality. What he failed to realize was that sometimes the ship went down because of its Captain.

"You don't know me, Amelia. You don't know me and you know nothin' about my health. Stay out of things you don't understand."

There were few times Amelia Sambora was truly speechless. This was certainly one of them. He'd never directed anything quite so cold at her and she didn't like it at all.

The chair screeched as she stood up. "You're an asshole, Jon. Is this how you treat the people who care about you these days?"

He scoffed. "I think you could use a little introspection. You've pushed away everyone who cares about you, me, Richie, your own parents, heck even David. Don't talk to me about bein' an asshole."

"Introspection?" She sputtered, her voice reaching previously unexplored pitches. "I'm sure it'd be equally valuable to you. Take a look in the mirror, Jon. You can lie to me but you can't lie to yourself. You're sick, I hope I'm wrong but you're sick."

Jon rolled his eyes, refused to rise to her. She turned on her heel and stormed off out of the room.

"Hey! You alright?"

Tommy had followed her out of the room, jogging to keep up with her angry pace.

"Hey, what's the matter?" He caught up with her.

Jon, with his hair all fluffed up and his cowboy boots on had often left Amelia feeling small. Standing next to Tommy Lee was that same sensation only amplified, she felt like a child standing next to him, he must've been about six foot and two or three inches. "You alright?" His hand landed on her shoulder.

"Yes." She sighed. "I'm fine, I'm going back to the hotel."

"What was that all about, huh? You n' Jonny have a quarrel?"

"Only a little," she muttered. She cursed Jon for driving her away from the cozy confines of the well-insulated dressing room, the large backstage corridors held a bitter chill.

"Oh right. You cold, darlin'? You want my jacket?"

"No thanks," she said, though the word 'cold' seemed to put her through an involuntary shiver.

"Here." He started to take the leather jacket off and wrap it around Amelia. It hung on her like a dress. "What were you arguing about?"

"Oh, nothing." She waved her arm dismissively only for the oversized jacket sleeve to flop around. "Jon can be rather stubborn is all."

"Oh really? How so."

"I worry about his health. This tour's already exhausted him, his voice is falling apart and he's getting much thinner. He's so tired all of the time."

"Part and parcel of touring I guess," Tommy shrugged. Amelia couldn't understand how he could dismiss such a thing, Jon was evidently ill. "Hey, look at me, I'm skinny and I'm alright."

Amelia beheld his now shirtless body. Yes, he was thin but he was tall and lanky. Frankly Amelia couldn't imagine him built any differently, it seemed only natural for him. "I know, but it's not usual for Jon. He used to have this small chub to him, he was never bony. It's all the touring."

Amelia thought back on her words and cringed. Those weren't the words of a concerned assistant, they were the words of a concerned ex-lover.

Tommy ruffled his jet black mane and eyed her cautiously. "If you want maybe I can have a word with him, try to second your concerns."

"That would mean a lot to me."

His expression was the most serious she'd seen from him yet. "Listen. I wanted to apologize for earlier. Jon spoke with me, actually. He said it wasn't cool of me what I did, grabbin' you like that n' makin' you sit with me. I'm sorry."

"You are?" Amelia's eyes boggled. Tommy Lee? Apologizing for overstepping boundaries pertaining to physical contact? It couldn't be.

"Yeah, I am. You're a pretty girl, Amelia, sometimes I can't help myself. But I gotta help myself, I can't be doin' stuff like that all the time. I'm sorry, I do like you, I'd rather get to know you properly."

"Oh.." Amelia couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was a different Tommy than she'd known for the past few days. "Well, I mean-"

"Hey!"

Both Amelia and Tommy turned around at the noise. Jon was jogging toward them with his towel still around his neck. "What's goin' on?"

He looked mildly ridiculous squaring up to Tommy at his short stature. In his state of health it'd be impossible for him to pick any sort of fight with him, even verbal.

"I was talkin' to Amelia," Tommy answered indifferently. "Is there a problem?"

Jon tugged on the sleeve of Amelia's jacket. "What's this?"

"The lady was cold," Tommy shrugged. "Is everythin' alright? You seemed to upset the poor girl, I was consoling her."

Amelia would hardly admit that she'd needed 'consoling', though she didn't bother to argue the point. She was too tired to inject herself into male shenanigans.

Jon huffed a laugh. "Don't give me that shit." One did not simply console Amelia Sambora, she'd bite your hand off if you tried to offer her emotional support without her permission. "What are you doin'? Where are you goin'?"

"Relax, Kidd." Jon hated the man. How could he speak so condescendingly to him, he was younger than him! And this was backstage at a Bon Jovi show, he was in charge there. "I'll take her back to the hotel, make sure she gets there alright."

He didn't like it, he didn't like it at all. Leaving Amelia in the care and company of Tommy Lee felt like a leaving a sparrow to a coyote. She was vulnerable, not to mention naïve in the world of rock and roll but what choice did he have? He hadn't showered or changed and there was no chance of Amelia listening to him after their little spat.

"Fine," he muttered. "See you round then."

Tommy slung an arm around Amelia's shoulder. "Why don't you go on ahead doll, I'm gonna have a quick word with Jonny."

"Bu-"

He gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the door. Normally she might've reprimanded someone for ordering her around in such a manner but she was too exhausted to make a scene. She promptly left to find a taxi.

"What's your deal, kid?" Tommy prodded Jon's shoulder like a highschool bully might to their prey. Jon, for Tommy, was an easy target. Not only was he shorter in stature but a novice in the industry, someone that prided themselves on their squeaky clean image, what he liked to call a 'pretty boy'.

"I told you to stay away from her."

"Oh yeah, you and Rich been givin' me the daggers all afternoon." He grinned with pride. "Two protective older brothers. What is she to you, why do you squirm when I touch her?"

Jon didn't reply.

"Ah, ah! Look at that." Tommy reached for Jon's chin and fondled it teasingly much to his chagrin. He recoiled instantly, shoving Tommy's arm away.

"Knock it off, man."

"What is she to you?" Tommy enquired. "Does big brother Richie know you've got a little sweet spot for his sister?"

Jon repeatedly pushed away the hand that kept trying to fondle his face. "I don't know what you're talkin' about. She's a friend, Tommy. Unlike you I can mingle with the female population without the need to fuck them."

His amusement grew even more profound; that answer only solidified Tommy's beliefs.

"Amelia's my best friend's sister and she's my assistant. I dragged her into this mess, I'm responsible for her. You stay away from her, alright? And tell Nikki what I said."

"Nik and I hardly feel threatened by you, Jonny."

"No, that might be," Jon had to concede. Nikki and Tommy were two vicious and barbarous wolves, Jon was a golden retriever, he couldn't match them no matter how tough he acted. "But what about Doc? You aren't Doc's highest earners anymore, he's loyal to me now, to my band. Stay away from Amelia, stop leadin' her on, she's a good girl and she doesn't need people like you comin' to mess with that."

Tommy's sneer was lethal. "And how would Amelia feel if she knew you were sayin' all this. She doesn't seem like the kinda girl to want a guy dictating her life."

"She'd kill me," Jon admitted with a small smirk. "But that's my problem. I've got her best interests at heart, all you want is sex. She's nothin' but a challenge to you, you're not used to girls not immediately fallin' to their knees for you."

"You're dumber than you look. I liked that girl, shame I'm leavin' in a couple days." Tommy's lip twitched. "Seems you think I'm an animal. I wonder what Amelia would think of you if she knew what you'd been up to in the past few years."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Get off your high horse, Jon, you n' I aren't so different."

Jon could've thrown hands at him in that moment.

"Everyone knows you're a slut. I wonder how many girls you've led on without even knowing. You're as fuckin' perverted as I am! You aren't so nice as you'll have everyone believe. Now out of my way, I'm leavin'."

Tommy pushed past Jon and left in the same direction as Amelia. "See ya round, Kidd!" He yelled, the sound echoing in the great hallway.

"Bastard," Jon spat. "Fuckin' bastard."

†††

It was somewhere close to eleven o'clock by the time Jon made it back to the hotel. Instead of choosing the elevator he sauntered up the four flights of stairs, unsure of who seek first. He wanted desperately to shove his fist straight into Tommy's nose but decided Amelia's situation was more imperative.

Burdened with urgency and impatience he rapped on her door unrelentingly until she answered. He was met with a rather scary-looking Amelia.

"What are you doing?" She demanded, her tone like a scolding mother. "Do you wish to wake up the entire floor?"

"Well, you weren't answering," he responded meekly.

"What do you want, I thought I made it quite clear that you weren't to speak to me."

Jon rolled his eyes and pushed her inside, shutting the door behind him. The gasp that followed was volatile, Jon prepared himself for a steady flow of insults and beratements.

"Leave," she commanded regally. "Get out of my room, Jon."

Amelia was quite the neat-freak. Her hotel room was pristine even if they'd only been staying for a few days. On the vanity lay an assortment of make-up products, all of which Jon had no clue of their purpose. Her sheets were immaculate and unspoiled, the floor absent of any clothes or luggage.

As his mother had always said, Jon could learn a lot from Amelia.

"Can we talk?" He held his breath.

"Talk? No, I will not speak with you. In fact I was just about to go to bed."

She flung herself into the chair by the vanity and began to braid her hair. In the mirror she gave Jon a scornful glare.

"Please, Amelia," he spoke with unexpected softness. "It's important. It won't take long."

"Out with it then," she ordered while smearing a make-up wipe across her face.

Jon took an uncertain seat on her bed. If only she understood how difficult it was to talk with her when she was so standoffish, she wasn't even facing him.

"What's going on between you and Tommy?" He questioned tentatively. Amelia stood and pinned him with an accusatory glare.

"Important, you say?"

"Yes, important. Answer me."

She gave an uppity and high-pitched huff. "I fail to see what concern of that is yours, Mr Bongiovi."

"It's my concern because I care about you." He stood. "Look at me, will you? I'm tryna talk to you."

"And I'm getting ready for bed. Carry on."

Jon grabbed her elbow and forced her to turn to him. "Snap out of it. Listen to me, will ya? Look at me for god's sake."

She yanked her arm from his grasp. "If you touch me like that again or don't leave within the next twenty seconds I'm calling hotel security."

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. She was a real, difficult piece of work. Constantly cantankerous, perpetually petulant, and above all else, utterly incorrigible. "Why do you have to be so difficult, Amelia? I thought we were past all this. Any time I think I make progress with you, you regress."

"Regress? Progress? I'm not some ill-behaved child, Jon. Nor am I an animal in need of training."

Training? No, Jon thought, Taming? Yes, god, absolutely.

"No, of course not," he sighed in pure exaggeration. "But would you please sit down? I need to talk to you about Tommy."

Jon didn't understand her. It was like she wanted him to hate her, why she insisted on being unlikeable and ill-tempered was beyond him. The Amelia that he'd known was far different, it had to be some sort of a façade.

But why.

"How come you've been hangin' out with Tommy?" Jon asked once she was seated. "I thought you hated Crüe, what changed?"

"Nothing changed," she scoffed. "I do hate them, they're obnoxious and much too boisterous for my taste, but Tommy isn't entirely unpleasant."

Jon's jaw clenched. "Enlighten me."

"Oh, come on Jon, these are supposed to be your friends. Tommy might be arrogant but he at least had the decency to apologize to me. He seemed quite crestfallen when he returned after talking with you, his apologies seemed sincere."

"Well Tommy missed his calling. He should've been an actor, don't you believe a word he says."

"Why?" She demanded. "Why shouldn't I give him a second chance? I've given you plenty in the past, doesn't Tommy deserve that decency?"

"Don't talk to me about second chances. You're smart, don't you see that he's stringin' you along? He's.. he's this hunter, and you're some new and unexplored prey. You'd be nothing more than a trophy for him."

"That's a lovely metaphor, Jon. I can see you used all three of your braincells to come up with that one, however I'm not so sure that Tommy's mind is quite so complex. I think you give him too much credit. Have you considered the fact that he just likes me?"

"Don't be stupid. I've known Tommy for years, the guy leads girls on all day long, he's no good."

"And what about you and Patty? You lead her along, didn't you?"

"Oh god, Patty! You're still goin' on about her. I'm lookin' out for you Amelia, I don't want you hangin' round with guys like Tommy Lee. Don't you listen to a word they sell you. He's probably tryna get with you just to piss Rich and I off."

"Oh yes, that's right. The only reason a man would ever want me is because of you and my brother. Have you got any other insults you'd like to throw at me? You've already told me I'm stupid, would you like to tell me he's lying when he compliments me, that his interest is merely feigned? No, tell me Tommy and Nikki are competing in a bet on who can seduce me first. Go on Jon, indulge me, enlighten me."

"My god you're so stubborn that you're blind," he exclaimed, clutching at his hair. "Can't you see that I'm looking out for you? All that I've done since you've come back is look out for you, I care about you far too much. Tommy isn't a good man, Amelia, and that's generous."

Amelia paused. In that moment she ceased to be an argumentative and disputatious little brat, instead choosing to listen to the man that deep down she knew had her interests at heart, even if they were tainted by jealousy.

"He doesn't treat women well. I hate the guy. I've known girls he's been with in the past, he's broken all their hearts, mistreated 'em all."

Amelia wasn't silly enough to accuse him of lying.

Jon brought her closer to him, sparking an array of butterflies in Amelia's chest at the unexpected contact. "I didn't want it to come to this, but it's the only way I know you'll listen."

Her intrigue was piqued.

Jon's knuckles turned white as he held the hands of the girl he harboured such profound affection for. He took a deep and anxious breath.

"I've seen bruises, Amelia. I won't let you go out with him. I can't control you, but I can advise you and implore you and beg you."

Amelia saw an endearing amount of concern bubbling within his eyes, in fact it looked as though he might burst at the seams. She saw love in his eyes, a deep and platonic love; an unspoken promise to protect her from harm at all costs. He didn't care how long it took to get it into her stubborn little mind, he'd do whatever it took to stop her from entering any kind of commitment with a man like Tommy Lee, even if it cost her his own friendship with her.

"Please, Amelia, please," he beseeched her. "Don't believe a word Tommy sells you, he's an asshole. His entire existence is based on finding fulfillment in a new woman only to discard her when he quickly grows bored of her. I won't let that be you."

"Bruises?" She stuttered. That was the only part of Jon's statement she could focus on, it was a serious and truly devastating accusation. "You saw bruises?"

He nodded. He flattened his hands against Amelia's dainty shoulders and released a great sigh. "I did," he confirmed, though it pained him. "I know you probably think I'm jealous.. and maybe I am just a little, but above everythin' I'm worried for you. I know you, 'Melia, and I know that sometimes you do stuff out of spite."

Amelia opened her mouth to object, Jon was quicker. "I know you well enough to know that you might start hangin' round with Tommy more just to piss Rich and I off. Maybe that serves us right.. but whether I'm an asshole or not is irrelevant right now, I care about you so damn much Amelia and I ain't gonna let you get hurt by some bastard like him."

She was left in silence. Tommy she knew was an asshole, but she could never have guessed he'd resort to physical harm. "Do you really mean all of this?" Amelia asked meekly. "It's all true? The bruises and everything."

In hindsight it was a ridiculous and almost offensive question. Jon would never lie about something so serious.

"Yes, it's true. I wish it weren't," he said gravely. "You promise me you'll stay away from him till they leave next week?"

"Yes, I promise," she nodded. That confirmation seemed to relieve Jon a great deal. He allowed his eyes to fall shut, brought her closer and pressed a delicate and long-lasting kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," he murmured. He kissed her again, his time shorter but with much more vigour. His thumb briefly grazed her cheek before he let go of her completely, Amelia fought the urge to whimper. "You had me real worried, when I saw you today you looked like you were really starting to like him."

Amelia let out a small laugh. "You must be blind. I might've briefly entertained the idea of his company, especially seeing how much it irked you and Richie but I most certainly didn't like him. Anyone can tell he's an asshole just by looking at him, and I'll never forgive him for what he said to me on our first encounter."

Jon chuckled softly, a sound that Amelia wished she could hear more often.

"You wanted to make me jealous?" Jon asked. That was what she'd said, right? Maybe not quite so directly.

Amelia blushed like a rose. "Only a little," she admitted gracefully. "Did it work?"

Jon scoffed. "Yeah, course it worked. I turn round this mornin' and see you sittin' in Tommy Lee's lap? Course I'm jealous!" He laughed a little, his own blush starting to rise. "Think what was it like for you to see me with Patty? Before it all went pear-shaped.. don't think I didn't notice you givin' me the daggers all night. Of course I'm jealous to see you with Tommy."

Oh, so he had noticed her discomfort.

"Well, you needn't be." She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She could almost laugh at the idea of Jon being 'jealous' of Tommy Lee. They were completely incomparable. Tommy was admittedly tall dark and handsome with ample charm and an additional bad boy factor, but that didn't change the fact that Amelia at her core was repulsed by him. He was the definition of a sleazeball, a scumbag! Jon was the antithesis of all that; he was an all American sweetheart with beautiful blue eyes that made women across all nations positively swoon for him! Paired with pouty lips and fair hair with hints of flaxen, he was certainly a pretty boy even if he'd shoot you for saying so.

For a moment Jon felt as though he were in bliss. Sitting next to Amelia with a confession that she had wanted to make him jealous? That meant she must've harboured some feelings for him. Not to mention their still entwined hands and his lips that still tingled after kissing her warm skin.

Amelia noticed it too. She'd gotten far too close to him for comfort. This was her boss, not to mention her brother's best friend, their current situation was entirely inappropriate. She quickly detached her hand from his and cleared her throat.

"Well, thank you, I appreciate you looking out for my wellbeing." While she was certain she'd never have fallen for Tommy's tales and charm, Jon's input was enough to steer her clear all together. "But.." she held a stern index finger to his face. "Just because you've been looking out for me doesn't mean I forgot about earlier. I meant what I said, we are not on speaking terms, Jon, not unless it's about work. I refuse to speak with you until you take steps toward ensuring your health, I know that it's harsh but if that's what it takes then so be it."

It was the only way she was sure he'd listen, if she detached herself from him completely she was sure he'd soon fold, or perhaps she was just flattering herself.

Jon's blue eyes dimmed in a melancholy fashion. Just as they'd been getting along she'd gone and made a vow to cut contact with him entirely. Fantastic. In a blink of his sullen gaze she launched herself at him, causing him to stagger back. His hands were quick to recover and secure themselves around her.

"My god you make me sick. Sick with worry. How can you do this to us?" She clutched him in an asphyxiating grip. At age twenty five Jon Bon Jovi was thinner and frailer than he had been as a seventeen year old boy, and the weight just continued to fall off.

Amelia felt tears prick at her eyes. The man could be so self-destructive, stubborn to a fault.

"Oh, Amelia." Jon revelled in the embrace that he'd long dreamt of, though he'd hardly hoped it'd be under such a depressing circumstance. He offered a smile almost enchanting enough to make Amelia forget any of her prior concerns.

Stay focused, Amelia, you're mad at him.

"I'm okay!" His voice cracked at the sudden exclamation. "I'm alright, I promise you. C'mon, don't hit me with the silent treatment, I need you now more than ever."

The proclamation prompted her to draw him in tighter. God, that cologne! The same masculine fragrance he'd been wearing the first day they met and every subsequent day.

Yes, she'd be there for him, but if he didn't take noticeable steps to ensure an improvement in his health then it'd have to be from a distance. She reluctantly pulled herself away from him.

"You can leave any work you'd like me to do in my room, but I shan't be attending any shows, and will not under any circumstances join you for interviews or bring you drinks after your shows."

"But that's my favorite part of the job," Jon whined, sticking out his plump lower lip in a sullen pout.

"If that's the case then you can add it to my job description, or, you look after yourself better. Take a break and eat better food, take honey when you need it, don't whine like a child that it's too sweet. Until then, I won't speak with you."

"Amelia, please."

"No," she said coldly. "No, Jon. I care about you. If I played nurse and looked after you after every show then it wouldn't prompt you to change. I need you to start looking after yourself on your own accord."

It was a cruel ultimatum, one far more nuanced than Amelia could ever realize.

"Alright. I'll see a doctor," he said hoarsely. "See what they recommend."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Yes, that'd be a good start."

The pair sat silently for an unknown period of time. "In that case I suppose I should let you get some sleep."

He gazed at her fondly, cross-legged in checkered pajamas with her hair braided into pigtails. Suddenly he was eighteen again, first introducing Amelia to his parents home and having his first ever 'sleepover' with her. Back then he had dreamed of being a rockstar, now he reminisced on older and simpler times.

He stood up and nodded at her, patting his pockets to make sure he still had his key card. "Sleep well."

His departing gift was another one of his tender forehead kisses, after which they were both left alone.

He was admittedly in a state of distress. Amelia had made it abundantly clear that she wouldn't speak to him and there was nothing he could do about it, cancelling or postponing shows were out of the question. He hoped maybe hiring a backstage doctor might help her see he was taking steps in the right direction.

Beyond that, Jon had Tommy's final words to ponder; a statement that'd been nagging him all through his conversation with Amelia.

You and I aren't so different.

Oh, it was haunting! An evil accusation. And yet, was it entirely wrong? Jon certainly had led women on in his lifetime, Patty being the most recent but by no means the most egregious example.

He needed counsil to calm his mind. He set about finding his closest friend, once upon a time his mortal and mysterious foe, Richie Sambora.

---

Chapter twelve 🥰

Big things are coming I promise 👀👀 I can pick up the pace a little now, I know the beginning has been slow.

Also, last time we had Nikki as the bad guy and this time it's Tommy lol, sorry to always do them both dirty, all events are entirely *fictional* 😂

Let me know what you thought of this one, I always love writing conflict 😍