Chapter 5

“Fuck!” Jon yelled, jumping to his feet and leaning toward the bed, then Richie grabbed him and hauled him bodily out of the way as a team of doctors and nurses burst into the room.

“Stay back, bro.” Richie growled in Jon’s ear as he fought the restraint, then Jon relaxed and nodded.

“I’m okay, Rich.” He muttered, staying well back as the medics worked on Jay.

After a tense ten minutes, and a few injections of various drugs, Jay’s condition stabilised enough that Jon could breathe again, and the doctors started to smile again. One by one, the medical staff left the room, until only the original doctor remained, and after a final check on the monitor he turned to Jon and Richie.

“What the hell happened?” Jon asked, the panic beaten back but his worry evident.

“Don’t…..well, as much as it sounds like bullshit….” The doctor smiled. “Don’t worry. This sometimes happens with head injuries, but it’s really not as serious as it looks.”

“No?” Jon wasn’t convinced, but the doctor was calm and relaxed about it, which helped reassure him.

“No.” The doctor repeated. “Think of it like……like his brain is trying to reboot, like a computer, and sometimes it gives off static. We will take him down for another scan, just to be on the safe side, but I’m ninety five percent certain there’s no problem.”

“It’s the five percent I don’t like.” Jon muttered. Shit, he’d been a lucky sonofabitch since the day the doctor slapped him on the ass, but it had to run out sometime. He just hoped today wasn’t that day.

“Maybe we should head back, let Coach know what’s going on.” Richie suggested, thankful the doctor didn’t see Jon’s venomous look at the suggestion he leave his ailing son.

“Well, our patient is going to be heading down to the MRI pretty soon.” The doctor confirmed. “Then he’ll be staying sedated for another day or so, before we start backing off the drugs, give him a chance to wake up naturally. I’m sure his family will be here soon, too.”

Jon bit it back. The words that surged to his lips, that he was family, dammit. He looked at Richie again, knowing he was right. As much as he wanted to stay here, it would raise more questions than were good for anyone. At least until he’d spoken to Billie. And Dot. Because there was one thing for certain - now that he’d found Jay, he wasn’t going to back away and leave him in the dark about his parentage. No matter how much pain it caused, Jon would weather it, because he wanted his son.

“Got a pen?” Jon asked the doctor, and when one was offered he took it, scribbling his number on the back of Jay’s chart. “Please - if anything changes, call me.”

“Okay.” The doctor agreed, finding it a little strange how interested Jon was in the player’s welfare, but figuring that rockstars - and football team owners - were different from most other people. Taking the chart, he left the room.

“Hang in there, kiddo.” Jon said softly, touching Jay’s blanket-covered foot, feeling Richie’s hand on his back again. He turned his head to look at Richie - the guy who’d had his back through all these years - seeing the commitment in the dark eyes, the assurance that, yet again, he’d back Jon to the hilt. “Thanks, bro.”

“Anytime.” Richie nodded.

As they left the hospital, though, they almost literally bumped into Coach Munsey, followed by Tony Graziani, Mike Brown and a few other players, all serious-faced as they came to see their fallen team-mate.

“Boss?” Tony spoke first, the rest of the guys crowding around to hear what - if any - news there was of Jay.

“Hey guys.” Jon said, pleased that his son had obviously made enough friends at the team that these senior players were here to check on him right after the game. “He’s heading down for another scan right now.”

“Has he woken up yet?” Coach Munsey this time, and Jon shook his head slowly.

“No. He was stable for a while, then he started fitting, so they got him stabilised again and they’re going to run more tests.” Jon saw the worry on the faces around him, and tried to reassure them with words he wasn’t sure even he believed. “His doctor said this is fairly common with head injuries. He’s not worried, though.”

“Easy for him to say.” Muttered Brown, and there was a soft chorus of agreement from the rest of the players.

Jon shrugged slightly. “We’re gonna head back - the doctor said he’ll be kept sedated for a day or so after the scan, give him a chance to recover more before they let him come around again.”

“Thanks for coming with him, boss.” Munsey said, reaching to lay a hand on Jon’s shoulder, a slight smile finally creasing his face as he leaned closer. “And the boys did as you asked.”

“Huh?” Jon didn’t get it. The past few hours, the last thing on his mind had been football.

“Dallas got their asses handed to them.” The coach clarified, and Jon forced himself to react appropriately, even though the first words that rose to his lips were - shockingly - ‘it’s only a fucking game’.

“Yeah?” He looked around the grinning faces, drawing on his acting lessons to give the right response. “Fuckin’ beautiful! Nice goin’ guys!”

“Nice!” Richie said beside him, joining in with the round of high fives and hugs, understanding just what Jon was thinking, and inordinately proud of his friend for his believable pretence.

“I’ll come back later, maybe.” Jon said to coach. “I’ll leave you guys to visit with him when he gets back from the scan. Fourth floor, room four eighty four.”

“Yeah. Later, boss.” Was a chorus of voices, Jon and Richie heading for the doors as the others went for an elevator.

Jon and Richie grabbed separate cabs, since Jon was going back to Wachovia to get his car and driver, while Richie was just heading back to his Philadelphia apartment. They parted with a hug, Richie muttering in Jon’s ear.

“I’ll try to come back later, bro.”

“Thanks, Rich. I’ll be back tomorrow - guess I need to get back to the kids right now. At least until I find a way to tell Dot about all this.”

“Rather you than me.” Richie murmured, and Jon chuckled.

“You know it. Later, bro.”

Jon rode the cab, then his own car, back to the apartment, lost in his thoughts, occasionally checking his cellphone in case he’d missed a call from the hospital. The phone stayed silent, though, and he just had to hope it was a case of no news being good news.

Back home, the boys were still subdued, but his worry over one son had evaporated his anger at the other three, and he called them all through to the living room, gathering them into a group hug. Not really understanding, they just knew he wasn’t mad at them any more, and they hugged him back until Jon eased back a little, looking at them seriously.

“You guys know I love you, right?”

The three boys nodded, and Jon smiled, ruffling each blond head in turn.

“I only get mad ‘cause I love you and I want you to be good. And you have been, right Tina?” He looked past them, seeing the girl nod. “So why don’t we order in a pizza and watch a movie?”

“Yeah!” Jake blurted, just thankful he’d gotten away with it, since it had been his wild throw that toppled the vase and caused their punishment. Something his older brother wasn’t about to let him forget easily. “Thanks, dad!”

“Okay.” Jon got to his feet, walking toward Tina. “Thanks, Tina. Why don’t you call it a day. I’ll deal with this lot tonight.”

“Are you sure, Mr Bongiovi?” She could see the strained lines around his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” The grin was tired but relaxed. “One of my players got put in the hospital this afternoon, and I’ve been up there with him.”

“Oh, no! Is he okay now? Which player?” Tina wasn’t a huge fan of football, but with her boss’s connection to the team she’d seen a few games.

“He’s still unconscious, but the doctor reckons he’ll be okay. The rookie quarterback - Kelsall.”

“Well, I hope he’s okay.” She said, unwittingly adding another worry to Jon’s mind. “Good thing Stephanie isn’t here, though. I think she has a crush on him.”

Chapter 4

Jon shifted in his chair so he could see Richie - but still keep one eye on Jay - and he shrugged.

“There’s not really much to tell, Rich.” He said softly.

“No?” Richie smiled slightly. “No…..just a son you never mentioned - never knew about. Naw, nothin’ to tell.”

Jon chuckled. Trust Richie to get right to the heart of things. Maybe it would help him figure it out in his own head, though, if he talked it out. God knew, since the day he met Jay and realised who - what - he was, the subject had been circling in Jon’s brain without any real answers coming out of it. The number of times he’d been on the point of calling Billie, then backed down - hell the one time he’d actually decided that he was doing it, his wife interrupted him, and the moment was lost again. Since Dot and Stephanie left, he’d not had a spare minute to think, let alone call Billie. It didn’t help that he still hadn’t figured out what to say to her.

“I told you already about meeting Billie, back when I took off after the Jersey tour.”

“Yeah, you told me. You told me she helped you, but you never really made it clear in what way.” Richie chuckled as he nodded toward Jay. “You did tell me you were fuckin’ her, but that’s kinda obvious now, huh?”

Even now, the memory of those times made Jon blush uncomfortably. Yes, he’d told Richie that he’d had a…..well, a fling with a young woman who owned a ranch, but he’d never actually clarified why the affair had been so healing to his wounded psyche. He drew a deep breath, but he knew Richie needed to hear the whole sorry tale now. And maybe he just needed to tell it. A gulp of the stale coffee didn’t really fortify him, but it did give him a moment to get himself together again.

“Only one other person - well, two, including Billie - knows about this, Rich. Dot knows - knew - and I’d really like to keep it that way.”

Richie looked offended at the suggestion, but didn’t say a word, and Jon flushed again.

“Sorry, bro. I should know better. Okay, so after the tour, you know Dot and I lit out on the bike, and then she came home to Jersey and I carried on alone. She pretty much sent me away - said I needed to work through stuff on my own, that having her and Doc around wasn’t helping me. She was right.” Jon looked quickly at Jay, making sure he was still oblivious, then he kept his eyes on the floor, looking into his past as he spoke. “Thing was - and Dot said it was just a symptom of the depression - but, well, I was…….I couldn’t……shit. Back at that time, I couldn’t do anything for her. Not physically.”

After looking puzzled for a second, Richie got it, and his eyes widened - not really so much at the fact of Jon’s impotence at that time, but at the fact he was admitting to it. He nodded slowly, not pushing Jon to say the words.

“Gotcha.” He just muttered. “And…..damn!”

“Yeah. You’ve no idea.” Jon blushed brighter, but that was the hardest part of the story to tell. “So, I did meet Billie the way I said - out in the middle of nowhere - and I spent a couple days with her. Dot had been gone a couple weeks by then, and I was feeling a lot better. Not because she was gone, but just…… Anyhow, Billie and I were having fun, then we got kinda drunk one night and ended up swapping sad stories. Hers was sadder than mine, but I told her anyway. I already knew I was attracted to her, and a day or so later I stumbled into her bathroom and caught her in the shower. I’d thought she was outside, and there was no lock on the door.” He smiled slightly at the memory. “So we were lovers for the rest of the time I was there.”

“And, what, you got caught out once without protection?” Richie asked. He knew Jon, well, all of them, really, had always been careful about that with the legions of groupies around.

Jon blushed again, shaking his head. “Honestly? It never even crossed my mind. Not once. We just……”

“You asshole.” Richie said seriously. “Did you think she was on the pill? That what she told you?”

“No. We never discussed it. I guess, if I think about it, I didn’t think she was, because she’d lost her fiance a few years before and hadn’t been ‘with’ anyone since. It just never occurred to me. To either of us.”

“And she never told you about….him?”

“Nope. I left there one morning, we said goodbye as friends and I got on the bike and headed back here. I told you before, she never even knew my last name. Hell, I only knew hers because we had to take her dog to the vet that one morning and the chick there called the dog Mr Kelsall. When Jay was up for the tryouts, I didn’t even know his name until I met him - he was ‘number eighty four’.”

Richie shook his head. He remembered when Jon had told him about Billie, while they were both heavily under the influence of Jack, and he remembered his astonishment that anybody back in the late eighties didn’t know Jon’s name or face. He could remember laughing at Jon when his friend pouted a bit over that, complaining that there he’d been, thinking every woman in the known world wanted to fuck him, and discovering a tiny town in deepest Kansas where they didn’t even know his face. Thinking back to when Jon had given the admissions girl Jay’s details, Richie had to ask.

“Have you talked to Billie? Since you found out?”

“No.” Jon said softly, looking at Richie seriously. “I’ve thought about it. Hell, a few times I’ve picked up the phone to call her - the number’s in Jay’s file - but what the fuck do I say to her? ‘Hi Billie - it’s Jon - remember me? The father of your son.’” He shook his head. “Jay said she was a fan, so it’s safe to say she now knows who I am. If she wanted to get in touch, she could’ve.”

“Could she?” Richie raised his eyebrows. “Think about that, bro. How easy is it for any of the fans to get in touch with one of us? Pretty fuckin’ impossible. Maybe she’s tried. If she wrote to you, even if she didn’t put down in black and white exactly who she was, and why she was getting in touch, do you actually think your guard dog would give you the letter?”

Jon nodded slowly. Richie was actually right. His assistant was very protective - hell, that’s what he paid her for - and any ‘inappropriate’ contact from a fan would have been summarily shredded and tossed in the trash.

“You’re probably right, bro.” He smiled. “I never really thought……”

Jon broke off as he saw Richie’s gaze shift from his own face to the boy in the bed, and he swung around, hoping to find Jay waking up.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t why Richie was staring at him, as Jon saw his son’s body bend backward, arching so that only his head and heels were on the mattress as a convulsion shook him. Drowning out Jon’s yell of panic, the monitors blasted into life, alarms screaming as Jay convulsed again, his eyes open but rolled all the way back into his head.

Chapter 3

Richie slammed his hand against the door, above Jon’s head, preventing his distraught friend from opening the door.

“What did you just say?” Richie demanded incredulously.

“I said he’s my son.” Jon repeated, looking at Richie, the hurt showing in his eyes.

“Whoa! But he’s, like nineteen! When…..who?”

“Richie - let me out of here!” Jon spat, his claustrophobia building as Richie trapped him in the room, the worry over Jay making things worse.

Seeing the rising panic, Richie released the door, but laid his big hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“Just tell me, Jon.” They headed out into the hallway. “But for fuck’s sake keep your voice down. Does Dot know?”

“Oh, Jesus, no!” Jon said. Fortunately, Richie was one of only three people who knew about Billie - and the other two were Billie and himself. “Remember me telling you, years ago, about Billie? Out in Kansas?”

“Your li’l cowgirl?” Richie queried.

“Yeah.”

“Shit. And when did she drop the kid on you?”

“She didn’t.” Jon said as they headed down the stairs - no way he could deal with an elevator right now. “He turned up here, to try out for the team.”

“And you decided to sign him up.”

“No.” Jon shrugged. “You know I don’t get involved in team stuff like that. I was here, though, when they held the tryouts, and when Coach had picked who he wanted I went over to welcome them all.”

Reaching ground floor, they headed down to the locker room, seeing paramedics heading in just in front of them, the sight quickening Jon’s pace even more, though he continued his quiet explanation.

“He had a photograph he’d stolen from his mom, one of her and me, and he asked me to sign it. I recognised her, of course, then I actually looked at him.”

“And?”

“And…..well, you said you’d talked to him. You tell me.”

Richie thought, remembering now how familiar Jay’s eyes had seemed. He hadn’t actually known Jon when he was quite that young - Jon was just about twenty one when they first met - but the bright blue eyes now made sense. The hair, of course, was short, but it was certainly the same shade of brown as Jon’s natural color. A least the last time Richie had seen his natural color.

“He’s got your eyes.” Richie confirmed, and Jon just nodded silently as they entered the locker room, finding the room hushed with worry.

Over in a side treatment room, paramedics were hunched over Jay, who was still strapped motionless to a stretcher. Coach Munsey was in the room, but when he saw Jon and Richie he came out for a moment.

“Coach. How is he?”

“Unconscious.” Was the terse reply. “We don’t know what kind of damage there is. Ambulance is taking him to hospital right now.”

Indeed, the paramedics were just picking up the stretcher, their careful movements evidence of how serious they thought this might be.

“I’m going with him.” Jon said firmly, and Coach looked surprised, so Richie stepped in.

“Me too.” He said, surreptitiously kicking the back of Jon’s heel. “I was talking with that kid just the other day, and he said his folks are way out in Kansas, so he’ll need somebody there he knows, when he wakes up.” There was a definite emphasis on the ‘when’.

“You sure, Boss?” Coach asked.

“Yeah.” Jon kept it together as his unconscious son was carried past him. “Poor kid’s only nineteen - we’ll go with. Just……” He forced a grin. “Nail those bastards for me, Coach. I don’t want the guys letting their heads drop now - Dallas are goin’ down!”

“Count on it.” Munsey confirmed. “The guys are just ready for it now. Graz is coming off the bench, and I pity any player who tries to take him out today.”

Jon and Richie followed the paramedics from the building, climbing into the back of the ambulance without even asking permission. Even though he desperately wanted to talk to his son, to hold his hand and reassure him, Jon forced himself to act like a worried boss, not a panicked father.

The ride to the hospital was swift, and while Jon provided Jay’s details to the admissions clerk - Richie raising eyebrows when he gave the next-of-kin telephone number from memory - Jay was taken away to be x-rayed, scanned and fully checked. After a tense hour or so, Jon and Richie slugging down shitty coffee from a vending machine, a weary doctor appeared, obviously recognising them.

“You’re here with Jay Kelsall, right?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Jon jumped to his feet. “How is he?”

“He’s okay. We think.” The doctor replied, a little impressed at the rockstar’s obvious worry over his young player.

“You think?!” Jon frowned, Richie giving him another sneaky kick, warning him to be careful, and Jon moderated his tone. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Well, we can’t find any fractures in his neck or back. His collarbone is cracked, but that’s no concern. The only problem is that he’s still unconscious.”

“Still?” Jon didn’t like the sound of that. He was aware - as any serious football fan would be - of how easily ‘unconscious’ could turn to ‘coma’.

“I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Just sometimes takes a little time is all. You can see him if you like.”

“Yes!” Jon blurted, and with Richie at his heels they followed the doctor to the private room the player had been put in.

The doctor let them in then left immediately as his beeper sounded. Hesitantly, Jon approached the bed, looking down at the unconscious kid, cables snaking from his body to various monitors and machines.

“Shit.” Jon whispered, looking quickly toward the door, checking they were alone before he laid a gentle hand on Jay’s head, realising it was the only time - other than the handshake of greeting - that he’d touched his son.

“Take it easy, bro.” Richie muttered, his hand on Jon’s shoulder, feeling his friend trembling in reaction to the situation. “Siddown.”

Jon let Richie push him down onto the chair by the bed, his eyes still fixed on Jay’s face. After watching for a moment, Richie decided he should leave Jon to deal with this himself for a few minutes, give him a chance to get himself back together, and he eased himself away.

“I’ll be back, Jonny.” He murmured. “I’m just gonna make sure they’ve called his……called Billie.”

“What?!” Jon snapped around to look at him, and Richie raised his hands.

“She has a right to know he’s hurt, Jon.”

Jon couldn’t argue with that, and Richie slipped from the room, closing the door gently, hearing Jon’s voice as he spoke to his son. At the nurse’s station, Richie checked with a slightly flustered junior nurse that Jay’s mother had been contacted, and she confirmed that, yes, the call had been made and the woman was on her way up from Kansas as quickly as she could. He nodded, thanking her, then headed down the hallway to get yet more of the sludge masquerading as coffee, taking two lukewarm cups to the room, opening the door noisily to give Jon a chance to compose himself.

Jay still lay unmoving, and though there were the marks of tears on Jon’s face he was back in control, nodding as he took the coffee from Richie.

“Thanks, bro.” He said softly, in that hushed voice people always seem to use in a hospital room. “For the coffee and, y’know…..”

“Yeah. His mom’s on her way.”

Richie dragged another chair across and sat down beside Jon, double checking he’d closed the door before he spoke.

“So you wanna tell me?” He invited.

Chapter 2

Jon sighed as Dorothea brought him up to date on the European trip, telling him how excited Steph was to be heading to Rome the next morning. He was almost annoyed that his wife and daughter were obviously having so much fun without him, then he gave a sardonic chuckle, stopping Dot in mid-sentence.

“What’s funny?” She asked, and Jon snuffed another soft laugh.

“Oh, nothin’ babe. I was just thinking what a weird role reversal this is. You halfway across the world enjoying yourself, me sitting home with the kids. I guess it’s really the first time I’ve understood how you must’ve felt all these years.”

“You know I’ve never minded.”

“I know, I know, Dot. Just strange is all.”

“So what are you boys doing today, anyway?”

Immediately, Jon brightened. “Game day, darlin’. We’re headin’ down to Philly in an hour. Richie’s gonna meet us there. Maybe take the kids to Chickie and Pete’s after, if they behave.”

“You mean if you win.” Dot corrected, and Jon laughed.

“Yeah. That too.”

“What are the boys doing just now? Getting ready?”

“I guess.” Jon cocked his head, listening to the familiar sounds of the apartment. “They’re pretty quiet anyway.”

“How quiet?” Dot asked suspiciously, her maternal intuition kicking into overdrive.

“Uhhhh……” Jon listened harder, then frowned. “Too quiet.” He confirmed. “I better go see what they’re doing. Talk to you tomorrow, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too. G’night, Jon. Oh, and ‘Go Soul’!” She finished with the familiar words.

“Yeah. We better win.” Jon said seriously. “Fuckin’ Desperados today. Sorry. G’night baby.”

He closed his phone and got off the couch, wandering silently through the apartment to find out just what the three monsters were doing, and why they were so worryingly quiet. He found the answer in his and Dot’s bedroom, where a vase of orchids lay on it’s side on top of the antique dresser, the miniature Philly Soul football also on the top telling him what had happened. Grinding his teeth together, he turned to go look for the culprits, cursing as he saw streaks of chocolate spread on the bedcover. At least, he hoped to hell it was chocolate, but there was no way he was going to risk a taste-test. He drew a breath before yelling.

“Jesse! Jacob! Romeo! Get in here right now!”

Stepping over to the dresser, he righted the vase, cursing again at the waterstain on the wood top. He could only hope that the years of thick lacquer had offered a degree of protection.

Behind him, he heard the soft sound of hesitant footsteps, three sets of them, and he did his best to control his anger as he turned around, seeing guilt written plainly on each face.

“So who’s going to tell me what happened in here?” Jon asked in that unmistakable pissed-off-dad tone.

As if on cue, Jake and Romeo turned to look at Jesse, who gave them both a withering stare. Not one of them spoke, and Jon’s temper started to rise.

“Let’s try an easier one, then.” He suggested, picking the little football off the dresser. “Who threw this?”

“We were just playing.” Jesse muttered.

“So you threw it.” Jon said flatly, clearly seeing his own stubborn streak in his eldest son. Shit, he thought. Make that his second eldest.

“No.”

“So who did?!” The temper was rising fast, but as Jon looked at each of his sons in turn, each one just shook their heads silently, neither willing to confess nor drop the culprit in the shit.

In other circumstances, Jon would have been proud of how his three boys were sticking together, refusing to rat out their brother. But not when it was in direct defiance of him. He knew how his own father would have dealt with it - hell, how he had dealt with it, when he, Tony and Matt had stuck together, but Jon had never yet raised a hand to any of his kids, and he wasn’t about to start now. He did, however, recall one or two beatings he’d taken when he’d confessed to something he hadn’t done, to protect the real guilty party - usually Matt - from their dad’s anger. Or their mom’s.

Since the day Stephanie was old enough to need discipline, though, Jon and Dot had followed a different philosophy, and right now Jon knew exactly how best to punish the guilty party for the damage - and the other two for defying him. Still watching the boys, Jon raised his voice slightly.

“Tina?”

“Yes, Mr Bon Jovi?” The young nanny appeared from the hallway.

“Did you have any plans for this afternoon?” Jon turned to face her. He and Dot had both asked her to call them by their first names, but she’d just smiled and said that, if they didn’t mind, she felt it more appropriate not to.

“No, sir. Just maybe tidying the boys’ rooms while you were all out.”

Since Richie was going to be at the game, too, Jon hadn’t seen any point in dragging the nanny along, as Richie was more than capable of helping him corral the three kids. Looked like it wouldn’t be necessary, though. He smiled slightly.

“Well, it looks like you’ll be having some help with that.” He turned to the kids again, the smile vanishing. “You three are staying here with Tina. No game for you. You’ll stay here and help Tina clean your rooms. Is that clear?”

“But…..that’s not fair!” Jake blurted.

“Excuse me?” Jon raised his eyebrows, then shrugged in a ‘don’t blame me’ way. “Hey, you had your chance to tell me what happened. You wouldn’t. So this is the only way I can be sure the right one gets punished. And all three of you lied to me, so you all get the same. Now go.”

Little Romeo’s lip was quivering, but he was a Bongiovi through and through, following his brothers disconsolately from the room, refusing to cry. Jon was glad of it, too, because if his youngest son had started bawling he’d have probably relented, which wouldn’t have done much to convince the kids he meant what he said. He turned back to Tina.

“I know it’s Belle’s job, but could you maybe change the cover on this bed?” He asked, pointing to the dark stains, grinning wryly. “I hope to hell it’s chocolate!”

“Of course.” She said agreeably. She changed the kids’ bedding, so what was one more? As Jon turned away, Tina spoke again, reassuring him with a smile. “And I’m sure it is chocolate - the boys asked for chocolate spread sandwiches.”

Jon chuckled, nodding thanks for her reassuring words. He went to the closet, finding his usual ‘lucky’ game outfit of dark jeans and turtleneck, going into the bathroom as Tina left the bedroom, giving him privacy. Not like he hadn’t changed, stripped and dressed in front of any number of people before, but she always maintained a level of professionalism that was one of the things that had convinced Dorothea to hire her, despite her youth. Jon dressed for the game, shaving quickly since he hadn’t bothered to when he showered that morning, then he grabbed his boots and jacket.

With his cellphone and cigarettes in his pockets, Jon said goodbye to Tina, then quickly said goodbye to each of the boys, keeping his tone still a little stern, reminding them he expected them to help Tina. He headed downstairs, finding the black SUV waiting there, and he climbed into the back, saying hello to the driver and asking him to stop at the nearest coffee shop. Once that was done, Jon fortified in the backseat with a large cup of strong coffee, he settled in for the ride to Philadelphia.

At the arena, the driver let him off at the usual door, and Jon lingered outside, finishing his coffee and smoking a cigarette, wondering yet again whether he should finally accede to the pointed suggestions of his voice ‘doctor’ and quit. He knew there were any number of reasons he shouldn’t smoke, but damned if he could think of them most of the time. Bottom line was, he liked it. Pure and simple.

When he finally stubbed out his cigarette and ditched the empty coffee cup, the security guard opened the door to him without bothering to check ID - not like anyone who worked at Wachovia didn’t know him by sight. Jon followed the deserted hallways, taking the short, back route up to his private box, opening the door to find a familiar shape slumped comfortably on one of the couches.

“Hey.” Jon said in greeting as Richie looked up, and he saw the confused frown on his friend’s face as he peered past Jon, looking for the kids.

“Where’s the boys?” Richie asked.

“At home. Helping Tina clean their rooms.” Jon said, shaking his head. “Looks like they were practising their football skills in our bedroom, but none of them would ‘fess up to who did the damage, so…..”

“So you grounded them all, make sure you got the right one?”

“Uh-huh.”

Richie just chuckled. Sometimes he was glad he only had one kid. Not often, but sometimes.

“So it’s just you and me, then, bro.” Jon said. “Obie’s sick. Flu.”

Shrugging, Richie got to his feet. “You want a drink?”

Jon looked at him a little sharply, his temper and suspicions still high from earlier, and Richie frowned at him reproachfully.

“I’ve got diet coke - what do you want?” He asked, and Jon grinned.

“Sorry. Guess I’m still pissed at the kids. Maybe I’ll stick to coffee for now.”

They sat chatting until near game time, when Jon headed down to the field for his customary walk around the walls, signing autographs and taking the occasional photo. Richie elected to stay in the box, since he was on a call to Ava, and Jon was gone little more than a half hour, returning to the private area in plenty of time for the opening festivities.

The game was fast-paced, and Jon had a hard time containing his pride as Jay ran out as quarterback. Coach Munsey had put him in for the last few games, as the more senior men were injured, but with the commitments of his job, Jon had missed the games, so this was the first time he’d seen his son play in the crucial role.

As usual, Dallas were playing a borderline illegal game, flirting with the rules and running increasingly dirty plays. One of their linebackers was almost as new to the professional game as Jay, only just out of rookie status, and Jon remembered reading a profile on him that had said the Desperados had picked him out after seeing his ‘aggressive and physical’ play during tryouts. Seemed typical for that team.

The game was more than halfway gone when the ball was passed to Jay, his catch unerringly solid, then he set up to throw the ball up the field. He set his feet and threw, the ball soaring over the heads of both teams, and a good ten seconds after the ball left his hand, the Desperados’ Dixon - a six foot one, two hundred and forty pound wrecking ball - slammed into Jay, the impact lifting the young player clean off his feet to land awkwardly on his shoulder at least five yards away. What didn’t help was that Dixon’s momentum carried him with Jay, and the linebacker’s full weight landed on top of the younger, lighter man.

Jon was on his feet, yelling abuse at the player, at the late hit on the quarterback, surprising Richie with his vehemence. Sure, it was a late hit, a dirty hit, and one of the Soul’s players had been on the receiving end, but Jon’s reaction seemed excessive.

Down on the field, Dixon got off Jay - mainly because the even bigger figure of Mike Mabry grabbed him by the collar and pulled him off - and the Soul players crowded around the prostrate body, then Coach Munsey was on the field, kneeling beside his quarterback.

In the private box, Jon was still on his feet, gripping tightly to the rail as he tried to see what was happening. Richie stood beside him, also trying to see, but cutting glances at Jon’s strained face, his friend’s tension clear.

Munsey spoke into his radio and a stretcher team ran onto the field, and a few minutes later the heavily strapped body of Jay was very carefully carried off the field.

“Oh, Jesus, no.” Jon muttered, and Richie turned to look at him, seeing tears in Jon’s eyes.

“Jon? What is it? He’ll be okay.”

“Will he?” Jon’s emotions were too high for him to think clearly, to have the restraint to keep his mouth shut. “He’s gotta be okay. I gotta go see what’s happening.”

Richie laid a hand on Jon’s shoulder, squeezing hard. “Jon - he’s a tough kid. I watched them at practice the other day, and I talked to him. He’s a good kid.”

“You talked to him?” Jon whispered, heading from the balcony into the private box, Richie following.

“Yeah.”

“I should’ve talked to him. Should’ve talked to him before this happened.” He turned worried eyes on his friend of so many years. “What if I don’t get the chance?”

“The chance for what?”

They were just about to leave the private box, and Jon paused with his hand on the door, looking at Richie.

“The chance to tell him……oh, Jesus…..” Jon leaned his head back, blinking away tears as he looked to the ceiling before looking back at Richie. “He’s my son.”

Chapter 1

Jon sat at his desk, staring at the file folder. Slowly, he opened the cover, reading again the bio for the young player who’d been with the team a few months now. The personal information section detailed his next-of-kin, ‘Mother - Billie Kelsall’, along with an address and telephone number. It was the telephone number that was itching at his brain. A telephone number which would connect him with the woman who’d borne his first child. The son he’d never known existed until fate brought him to Philadelphia.

He wondered if Billie knew. If she knew that her son - their son - had picked, and been picked by, the team his father co-owned. From Jay’s lack of reaction to him at Wachovia Center that first day, Jon was certain beyond doubt that Jay had no clue the photograph of his mom and the long haired rockstar was anything more than a fan getting lucky and having their photo taken with their favorite singer.

That day was etched in Jon’s mind. The instant realisation hitting him like a fist in the gut as he’d looked away from the bright blue eyes, looked down to see another pair of bright blue eyes. His own eyes, in the photograph. He remembered biting back the words that rose to his lips. Remembered numbly taking the Sharpie offered by Jay and scrawling his signature across the photograph. He remembered hearing the young man thank him shyly, saying that he’d take it with him next time he went home.

Picking Jay’s team photograph from the file, Jon looked at it. The blue eyes were the biggest resemblance, but Jay had the same unruly brown hair, cropped short no doubt to prevent the curls that Jon had been happy to allow. Hell, it had been the eighties when his hair was that long, shaggy mane anyway. Of course, Billie’s hair was dark, too, though her eyes were just as dark, and Jon was startled by the clarity of his sudden recollection of her, standing on that long-ago riverbank, wearing a grin and a black cowboy hat, and not another thing.

He laid the photograph down again, using it to underscore the telephone number and reaching for the phone on his desk.

“Jon?!”

He heard his name called suddenly and yanked his hand away from the phone guiltily at the sound of Dorothea’s voice.

“Yeah, babe? I’m in here!” He yelled back, flipping the folder shut and sliding it underneath the blotter.

“Hi.” Dot walked into the office, smiling at him as she ushered Stephanie ahead of her. “Tell dad.” She grinned.

“Tell me what?” Jon asked, forcing his mind off Billie and Jay. Forcing his mind back to his real family. His other family, he thought suddenly.

“I got picked!” Steph said excitedly. And not very enlighteningly.

“Okay……” Jon looked at Dot for help. “Picked for what, baby?”

“The internship I’ve been doing at the magazine - they wanted someone to go on a trip to Europe with Corinne, and they picked me!”

“They did?” He grinned, happy for her. “Good for you, honey!”

Getting out of his chair, he went around the desk to hug her, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

“I’m proud of you, Stephy.” He said. “Well done.”

“Thanks, dad.” Her voice was muffled against his chest, then he released her again.

“We should do something to celebrate.” Jon said, looking at Dot and seeing her nod approvingly. “What d’you want to do, Steph?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “If we were at home I’d have said go to Bill’s for dinner, but……”

It was funny, but all of them, even now, thought of the big Navesink house as ‘home’. They’d lived in the New York apartment for almost a year, but it wasn’t home. If he were honest, Jon wasn’t sure how much longer they’d stay there. The move had been made to fit in with Steph’s internship, and also to get the boys into the city’s schools, but it still didn’t feel right.

“We can do that.” Jon said without hesitation. “That where you wanna go, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” Stephanie grinned at him, so like her mother.

“Okay. Go let the boys know we’re leaving in……” He glanced at his watch. “Forty minutes.”

“Thanks dad!” Steph hugged him again then disappeared to tell her brothers to get ready.

Once she was gone, Jon turned to Dorothea, more serious now. He’d been reluctant to spoil Stephanie’s excitement but, well, a trip to Europe wasn’t just around the corner, and he wondered how the magazine would handle a teenager - particularly the daughter of someone like him - on the trip.

“So what’s the story on this trip, then?” He asked, perching his butt on the edge of his desk as Dot walked over, standing between his spread knees in a comfortably familiar position, Jon’s hands on her hips as he looked up at her.

“Well……it’s a two week trip, to London, Paris, Rome and Monaco. I was planning on going with her, because I’m not comfortable to let her go alone with just magazine staff. Unless, of course, you need me here.”

“I always need you, baby.” Jon said softly, rubbing his hands on her hips. “But I’ll be a lot happier if you’re with Stephy on this trip. I know she’s a sensible girl, but Europe’s a long way from home, and if there’s only the magazine lot there, well……”

“Yeah.” Dot agreed, leaning to kiss his forehead. “Just what I thought. I already spoke to Steph about it, and Corinne, and there’s no problem with it. We leave Friday.”

“Friday? This Friday?!” Jon was shocked at the suddenness of it all. “Jesus! They don’t give you much time, do they?”

“It’s almost a week away, Jon.” She pointed out. “And they’re arranging all the flights and hotels. All Steph and I need to do is pack.” She looked at him closely, knowing all too well how protective he was. “So you’re okay with this?”

“Huh?” Jon’s mind had wandered to thoughts of how Dot would be out of the city - the country - hell, on a whole different continent for a couple of weeks. Which would give him an opportunity to make contact with Billie. “Of course I am, baby. I really do think it’s great - it’s a big deal for Steph. I get that.”

Dorothea gently cupped her hands around his face, kissing him tenderly. Sometimes he could still surprise her, and his reaction to this trip was one of those times. He didn’t need to know all the details of who’d be going along. Jon’s hands slipped up to her waist, but when she felt his thumbs sneak under the hem of her top she pulled back.

“Nuh-uh.” She admonished, shaking her head with a smile. “Down boy. Later.”

“Promise?” He looked up, his blue eyes devastating her like they always could, Jon throwing an extra pleading look her way.

“Damn you.” Dot whispered. More than twenty years she’d been with him, and he could still turn her to a horny wreck with just a glance when he wanted to. “Yes. I promise, Jonny.”

They pulled apart then, heading off to get themselves ready to go to dinner, no need to dress up, but Jon did have to call his driver, ask him to come get them in a half hour. That was another thing that sucked about living in the city - nowhere to park easily, so what was the point in having one of the cars there? He’d left them out in Jersey, putting up with Dot’s teasing when he’d take a trip out there just to check on his precious Chevelle.

PART TWO

Okay, so just a very brief explanation!

The story was meant to end after part one. I 'saw' the ending (hey, it's how my brain works, okay?!) long before I got there, and I liked it. Unfortunately, like that final final chapter of Sara (for those who've read it) the story just wouldn't quit. So I started in on a brief Part Two (which is currently sitting at 59 chapters with quite a few more before I can end the story!!). This is Part Two of the story.

I know maybe I should've started a new blog 'page' for part two, but basically I'm lazy! So it's here.

Enjoy (or not - there are some kind of unpleasant themes in this one - don't blame me, blame my twisted mind)

Love
Angel
xx