Chapter Thirty Nine

After Jon and Billie had eased themselves apart, she sat up in the bed, stroking back his tangled hair.

“Why don’t you grab the shower first, and I’ll fix some breakfast.” She suggested.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.” She smiled, just a little sad. “Don’t take too long or I’ll…….”

“Feed it to Dekey?”

“You got it.”

Sliding from the bed, Billie headed quickly to the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later wrapped in a robe, heading to the kitchen. Jon was in the living room, pulling clean jeans and shirt from the black saddlebag, and he smiled silently at Billie as he headed for the shower.

In the kitchen, Billie started coffee - the most important part of the morning - then opened the fridge, gazing inside as she tried to figure out what to cook. Minutes later, she realised she’d been staring blindly into the fridge, her eyes on the food but her mind on Jon, and his imminent departure from her life. She sighed. She knew it was right. Knew he had to go. But that didn’t stop it hurting.

Jon showered slowly, wishing there was some way he could find to stay, but knowing it was time to leave. Best to leave now, while they still enjoyed each other. Better to go, when it still hurt just a little, than to linger here until they either hated each other or the pain of leaving was too much to bear. For as much as he liked Billie, his real life was calling him back. The need to get back to who he truly was - back to writing and singing and performing - was getting stronger with every passing day, and right now felt right to leave. Besides which, his most pressing concern right now was to see Richie, to try to make things right with him.

He finished showering, standing with a towel around his waist while he cleaned his teeth, then he pulled on his clothes, folding the wet towel neatly onto the edge of the bath. When he left the bathroom he went to the living room, dropping his toothbrush into the saddlebag before going to the kitchen.

Breakfast was a subdued affair, Billie having fixed bacon, eggs and some frozen hash browns, and she stayed quiet, forcing herself not to say what she was feeling. Not to say she didn’t want him to leave. Jon could feel it, though, and he respected her for the restraint, glad of it, really, because it wouldn’t take much persuasion right now for him to stay. Finishing the last of his coffee, he took his plate and mug to the sink, stopping behind Billie when he returned to the table.

“I guess I should go.” He murmured, and she nodded.

“I guess.” Billie turned to face him, forcing herself to smile. “Time for you to hit the road, cowboy.”

“Still a cowboy?”

“Uh-huh.” Her nose wrinkled in a more genuine smile as Jon pulled her to her feet, pulling her into his arms.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely, gazing at her.

“I didn’t do anything. It was just breakfast.”

“Not what I meant.” He bumped her forehead with his. “And you know it.”

“I know it.” Billie agreed.

“Thanks for putting me up…..for putting up with me. Thanks for letting me find the real me again.” Jon grinned as a phrase jumped into his head. “Thanks for helping me put the boy back in the cowboy.”

“Thanks for helping me with the hay…..and for helping Deke.” Billie replied. “Now will you go before I get all sappy?”

“You and me both, darlin’.” Jon murmured. “Kiss me goodbye, then I’ll go.”

They kissed deeply, taking leave of each other in the wet melding of lips and tongues, parting slowly and with a sense of finality. Jon rested his forehead on Billie’s for a moment, feeling her hands gently rubbing his back, then he straightened away from her, pasting on a grin that he didn’t feel like.

“Bye, cowgirl.”

“Bye, cowboy.”

With that, he headed to the living room, grabbing the saddlebag and his leather jacket, pausing at the front door to pull on his boots, then leaving the house. He walked to the garage, wheeling the bike out and fastening the saddlebag back in place, then he quickly checked the bike before straddling the seat, starting the engine.

As he rode the bike slowly past the house, he saw Billie on the porch, still wrapped in the robe, a fresh mug of coffee in her hands. Her hair was tangled around her face, but he was pretty sure he could see the shine of tears trailing down her face. Without halting the bike, Jon raised a hand in a wave, and Billie immediately waved back, smiling broadly. And falsely.

Keeping the bike at a low speed, Jon rode down the track to the highway, watching Billie in the bike mirror until a curve took him out of sight of the house. Sighing, he opened the throttle another fraction as he left her there.

At the house, Billie watched him leave, and only once he was out of sight did she wipe the tears from her face. She sat heavily on one of the porch chairs, and Deke came across to her, laying his head on her knee, not sure why his mistress was sad, but staying close anyway. Smiling sadly, Billie laid a hand on his head, stroking gently. After a few minutes, hearing Drummer’s impatient whinny, she shook herself out of the sadness and headed inside to dress. Time for her to get back to her own life, too.


Jon rode to the feed store - it was in the right direction anyway - to use the payphone there, as he wasn’t sure where he’d find another. Halting the bike near the phone, he flicked off the ignition and got off the bike, walking slowly to the phone. After going through the usual question-and-answer session with the operator, she accepted his credit card and he dialled the long series of numbers, waiting while it rang, closing his eyes when a familiar female voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi. It’s Jon.” There was silence at the other end. A brittle, hostile silence, forcing him to speak again. “Is Richie there?”

In California, the striking face of Richie’s current girlfriend - though girl wasn’t really appropriate for her - hardened.

“No, he’s not.” Cher replied, not even trying to hide her dislike of Jon.

Like pulling teeth, Jon thought, clenching his jaw, forcing himself to stay civil or he’d get no help from her.

“Do you know where he is? I was hoping to see him.”

“He’s back home in Jersey, far as I know.” She replied. “He went to see his parents.”

That was almost good news, Jon thought. Not only did he not have to see Cher, to get past her to see Richie, but Jersey was a little closer than California. Besides which, he was headed that way anyway, to see Dorothea and his family.

“Thanks, Cher.” His voice was as warm as it ever got, talking to her. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m only telling you so he can beat the shit out of you.” She snapped.

“No more than I deserve.” Jon muttered, surprising Cher. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She echoed, laying down the phone. That had to be a first. Bongiovi actually sounding like a human being.

Hanging up the phone, Jon sighed. Looked like it could be a fun time when he got back to Jersey. He looked speculatively at the Harley. The roadtrip no longer felt like such fun. The slow pace across country would, he knew, irritate him, because he just needed to move forward now, so he picked up the phone again.

A couple of phone calls later and he was set. Ride to Wichita Airport where the Harley would be loaded onto a cargo plane bound for California, while Jon would board a flight home to Newark.


The travel plans worked out sweetly, with Jon arriving into Newark late in the evening and just booking into the nearest hotel for the night, too tired to think straight. In the morning, after a room service breakfast, he took a cab out to Richie’s parents’ house, paying off the driver and walking slowly up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked and waited.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and Joan Sambora stood looking at him, her expression neither angry nor particularly pleased to see him.

“Hi Mrs S.” Jon said nervously.

“Jon. How are you? You look well.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Jon cleared his throat. “Is he here?”

“Mm-hm. He’s in his room.” She stepped back, letting him in. Neither she or Adam had been given too many details of the falling out between her son and his friend, but she knew it had to have been something serious. Either way, they were both grown men and could sort it out themselves. “You know the way.”

“Thanks.” Jon entered the house. “Okay if I leave this here?”

“Of course.”

He laid the saddlebag down on the floor and immediately took off his boots, heading through the house in his socks, down the stairs to Richie’s basement bedroom. The door was closed, and Jon could hear the sound of a guitar through the panel. Still without a clue of what he was going to say to his friend, he knocked on the door.

Sitting on his bed, guitar on his lap, Richie looked up at the sound of the knock. His parents would knock out of politeness, but this seemed somehow different. Frowning, he laid the guitar down and got off the bed, crossing to open the door. What he saw outside was nothing that he expected - Jon standing there, trepidation on his face, waiting patiently.

“Hey.” Jon said, bracing himself for Richie’s reaction.