Part Three

Jon was annoyed that he couldn’t get out right away. He had a few things for the Soul and the band he had to wrap after the Madison Square Garden shows, but once they were done, he was on a flight jetting west. The one good thing about the delay was that the book he had ordered arrived. He had read through most of it in the days before his flight, and finished it on the plane.

By the time he landed, he had an idea of why the other guys were hooked on this stuff – reading an idealized version of himself was one thing, but this woman, Terri, wrote him so damned close to the way he was. His foibles, personality, hell his body language was all pretty close to reality. At first it was a little disconcerting, but as he got into the story, he almost forgot it was a book about him. He was chagrined that more than once he found himself saying “What a tool Sin is being” only to remember it was him.

After Jon checked into his suite at Doubletree, he grabbed a quick shower to wash the travel off him. He unpacked his gear and went onto the balcony for a cigarette. As he exhaled a stream of pungent smoke into the evening air, he considered his plan. He was hopeful this Terri was a reasonable woman. While he was flattered at her portrayals of him, the book was a bit much. If the blog on her radio station’s website was to be believed, she had another in the works. He had to stop this before it got too out of hand.

The internet stuff, well there wasn’t anything he could do about that. Freedom of speech and all that. He would never dream of stifling her creativity. He did need to draw the line, though, at profiting from “his” life. That just didn’t sit well with him. The way he saw it go down in his head, he’d be waiting for her after her shift got out, and would have a very civilized discussion with her about ceasing and desisting. He was confident that throwing legalese at her would impress her enough to abandon the second book.

He stretched out on the bed and flipped on the television. The local college’s football team was playing. He settled in to watch the game, and somewhere around halftime, fell asleep.

Jon woke with a start, completely disoriented. He clambered out of bed and spun around the bedroom before he remembered where he was. He shook his head to clear the fog and checked his watch.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. It was after 11:30. He had slept for hours. He stumbled down to the parking garage and dialed the address of the radio station into his rental’s GPS. Fifteen minutes later, he was pulling up in front of the station. Donning a baseball cap, he strode into the lobby of the building like he owned the place and stopped in front of the reception desk.

“Evening,” he said cordially.

“Evenin’,” a soft drawl responded. The woman behind the desk couldn’t have been more than twenty. “What can I do for you tonight?”

Jon smiled at the girl-woman and was mildly annoyed that it seemed to have no effect on her. It was his best smile, too. “I was hoping you could direct me to Terri’s studio.”

“Is she expectin’ you?” the woman asked, almost bored with the conversation.

“No,” Jon admitted, “but she’ll want to see me.”

The woman, Tammy, looked Jon up and down. He looked like something the cat dragged in. Rumpled t-shirt, though he did fill it out nicely, day-old stubble on his cheeks, and a ball cap to most likely cover bed head. She highly doubted this man was someone Terri wanted hanging around her studio. Besides, rules were rules, and they didn’t let just anyone wander around the halls, especially late at night.

“Do you have any ID, sir?” Tammy asked, a slight frost creeping into her tone.

Sighing, Jon dug out his wallet and slid his license across, waiting for the recognition. Tammy scrutinized the picture. “You’re a long way from home, Mr.,” she squinted at the name, “Bon-gee-uh-vee.”

“Close enough,” he muttered under his breath. “Yes, I know,” he said in his normal speaking voice, dripping a little Jersey drawl into it, “which is why I’d appreciate it if you could let me back to Terri’s studio.”

Tammy tilted her head at Jon and studied him for a long moment. Jon tried to hide his east-coast impatience, needing to remember that things went slower in the South than Back East. He pasted on his sweetest smile, which Tammy returned. “Gotcha,” he thought to himself.

“Sorry,” Tammy finally answered. “Rules are rules, and with no appointment, you’ll have to wait.” She indicated the chairs on the other side of the lobby and turned to her computer.

Stunned, Jon went to sit down. He was not used to waiting, and didn’t do it well. Checking his watch, he saw he only had ten minutes before Terri’s shift was over – certainly he could wait ten minutes. He relaxed enough to realize he was hearing what must be Terri’s voice coming over the speakers in the lobby. Her voice had that edge to it that told him she was either a smoker or a recent former, and there was just enough whiskey in it to make him smile.

“That her?” Jon asked the ever-helpful Tammy.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Who else d’ya suppose it’d be?”

Jon nodded and drummed his fingers on his knee. Finally, he heard her wrapping for the night. He stretched and stood, pacing the room, looking at the signed posters and photographs on the walls. Several minutes later, he heard that same voice from the radio say, “Hey Tammy, g’night now.” Jon smiled at her voice, but didn’t turn around.

“Terri, you have a visitor,” Tammy said softly, indicating Jon.

“Is that right,” Terri answered, then turned to look at Jon. She saw a backside that did justice to the jeans that covered it. She followed legs downward to battered cowboy boots, then back up to rest on that ass again. Broad shoulders strained the seams of a dark blue t-shirt, and shaggy dirty-blond hair was visible below a baseball cap.

“Shit,” Terri said loudly enough to be heard. “’Scuse me, man, are you another of Lori’s setups? ‘Cause I gotta tell ya, even though ya got the ass thing down, I am NOT in the mood for a date tonight.”

Jon turned, the bill of his cap shadowing his eyes. “Really?” he said, purposefully deepening his voice.

“Yeah,” Terri said, moving closer. “Now c’mon, do me a favor, baby, and take the hat off. Lemme see the baby blues.”

“Come closer,” Jon said, smiling.

“Dayum, you have the smile too. You have the eyes, and you may make me reconsider my no-date stance.”

Jon removed the cap and pushed his hand through his hair to fluff it out a little. “How’s that, sweetheart?” he asked, locking his eyes onto hers.

“Oh, fuck,” Terri said, and turned on her heel and left.