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Bed of Roses	By : Linz Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Bon Jovi Views: 2031 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Bon Jovi. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Jon had some how managed to get himself in the shower and forty-five minutes later was calling Richie to see what the plan was.

“You ready babe?”

“Yeah,” Jon said getting a pen and pad to write the info down on.

“US Air flight 7894 from LAX to Denver leaves in two hours. It will get in at about five my time. A car will be waiting for you. The driver’s name is Vince, be nice. He will take you right to the venue. I’ll be waiting. Call me from the car after you land.”

“Love you babe. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you too Jonny.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The flight was fine. Jon was not bothered on the plane at all. He sat in first class. Richie knew how to fly in style. Once the plane landed he got his bag. He saw the limo with the alias Richie liked to use on a name plate in the window. “Bonora” The combination of their last names.

Jon walked over to the man and the limo and said, “Hey Vince, my man, what’s going on,” as he shook the man’s hand.

Impressed Mr. Bon Jovi knew his name Vince replied, “Nice to meet you Mr. Bon Jovi.”

Once in the limo Jon called Richie’s cell phone like he was told to do. Of course said cell phone went unanswered. Jon left a message.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Backstage at the venue Richie was in the hall outside his dressing room pacing.

“Where the fuck is he. He was supposed to be here by now,” Richie was screaming at an assistant. “You find him. He said he would call. Where the fuck is he,” Richie continued.

“It’s okay Mr. Sambora, I’m sure he will be here. It’s just six now.”

“That fucking driver better be there, he better not be waiting on the curb in the fucking cold. I’ll never hear the end of it if he had to wait. Why the fuck has he not called my cell,” Richie continued ranting.

Jon had just walked through the hall to hear the end of Richie’s rant. But Richie’s back was to him so he went unnoticed.

“Maybe if you learned how to check your voicemail you would have gotten my message.”

Richie spun around upon hearing Jon’s voice and saw Jon leaning against the wall in tight blue jeans, a black tight tee shirt, his leather jacket on and shades covering what Richie was sure to be blood shot, puffy eyes from the previous night’s activities.

“Well it’s about fuckin’ time,” Richie threw at him.

“Oh shut up Sambora. Leave these poor people alone,” Jon placated Richie. The others that surrounded them looked relieved that their boss’s ‘best-friend’ showed up. “Did you have sound check yet,” Jon asked.

“Yeah, just about to eat, ordered you something too. Let’s go.”

Jon followed Richie into his dressing room. Once in Richie closed the door behind them, then took Jon into his arms and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth.

“Now that’s the welcome I was hoping for, not you screaming like a banshee.”

“Sorry babe, just anxious to see you. I missed you”

The pulled apart and Jon sat on the couch that the food was in front of. Richie sat down next to him and noticed that Jon still had on his sunglasses. He reached over and pulled them up to see how bad the damage was.

“Well you’ve got a hotel bar hangover if I’ve ever seen one,” Richie said as he hand lingered on Jon’s cheek.

“Thanks man,” Jon replied leaning in to Richie’s hand.

“Will you come out and do “Dead or Alive” with me tonight,” Richie asked. He knew Jon couldn’t resist the urge to play in front of a live crowd. In truth it wasn't the crowd that in the words of Steven Tyler,made his dick hard; it was playing with Richie in front of the crowd that did it for him.

“Yeah, of course, but I need a six string mine is en route to the hotel.”

“I got one I think you’re familiar with,” Richie said as he got up, walked to a closet and pulled out one of Jon’s acoustics.

“What the hell are you doing with that man,” Jon asked slightly bewildered.

“Think of it as inspiration. If I can’t have you at least I got a piece of you with me,” Richie said as he sat down next to Jon again and laced their fingers together.

Jon reached across Richie for his guitar and began to strum a few chords that Richie could tell were the beginnings of a song.

“What’s that?”

“Something I’m tossing around in my head, not too sure of it yet.”

“Sounds good. We can work on it later if you want.”

“Yeah,” Jon replied absently as he was concentrating on chords.

The two of them fooled around with their guitars for awhile, and chatted over their dinner.
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Bed of Roses