Chapter 161

Richie bounced on his heels. They were revving up for the stage. Jon was trying his damnedest to get ready. He'd spent as little time as possible warming up his voice, hoping to save it for the show.

With each date that passed, his voice was sounding rougher and rougher. He covered him as best as he could, but his anger was becoming intolerable by the end of the show. He knew it was frustration and tried to be supportive, but good fuck, he was becoming a royal bastard.

That wouldn't be so bad, but not having Elena around to bounce his frustrations on wasn't helping. His cock twitched at the idea of a bounce and he groaned. He didn't want to beg for her to come out. He knew she was working on the house, but August wasn't coming fast enough. He wanted her here now.

Lumpy handed him his guitar as the hand and back slaps started. Adrenaline rushed him and he ran out onto the stage. The opening bars to Let it Rock slid through his fingers.

As the opening riffs roared Jon ran on stage and started. He could try to forget now, lose himself in music and the flow of energy off the people. Fuck if it wasn't hard though. Each note he hit felt like sandpaper rubbing over his throat, each woman started shifting into the face he wanted to see.

He couldn't get a handle on any of it and it pissed him off. Nothing was working, he couldn’t make the throat better and he couldn’t get Kate off his mind, and that fucking best friend of his wasn't helping one damned bit. He was lost in some weird netherworld himself.

He'd always been able to trust Rich to pull him out of a funk, but these days? Hell Rich was as bad as him. As Let it Rock slid into Bad Name he whirled closer to the guitar, his eyes moving over the audience.

Richie could feel the pissy vibe already. Great. Just what they needed tonight. Another repeat of Quebec is not what they needed. He'd hoped the few days off would have helped, but Doc had back to back interviews set up the entire bus ride into the states.

He felt the tension in him as Jon draped his arm over his shoulder. He leaned in and picked up the chorus, trying a smile. [i]C'mon, Jonny.[/i] He felt Jon relax against him and they belted through the rest of the song.

As the songs changed over and the pianos cranked into I'd Die For You, he swapped out his guitars. The lower register of the song was forgiving on Jon's voice. He pulled ahead and walked the edge of the stage.

The first few rows were filled with fans and band followers. As he cringed at the limited clothing; his eyes kept focusing on the sculpted purple leather clad chick in the second row. He was only a man, and she shook her hips, singing along like she owned the place.

If he didn't know better, he'd sworn it was Elena from just the wild dancing. The mottled grey hair told him that it couldn't be his wife. That usually meant red of some sort. Kind of what he saw when Kate was around.

He backed up and turned to face Tico, jamming through the guitar solo from his drum riser.

As Die for you moved into the solo Jon turned to the drums, motioning for Rich to drag the solo out. Damn he had to have another spray. Fucking damn spray wasn't working like it used too, damned if it didn’t feel like it was getting worse instead of better. Swallowing back water, he winced at the taste then nodded as he turned back to front stage.

He knelt down by front row, his eye scanning over the two rows and saw leopard print. His eyes widened at the woman, who looked so out there, so not Kate, and yet, the move of her body, the fullness of those breasts had him wishing it WAS her, Dammit.

He let the final notes of the song fade off and started the beat, as they worked their way into the next song. And when his voice damn near cracked he turned his back, held the mic from his body and cursed. Dancing to Richie he managed to whisper. “You gotta do a solo."

Richie nodded and cranked through an extension of Wild In the Streets, running to David as they dueled it out. Jon paced back to the riser and shot his throat full of hurricane spray to numb it up yet again.

Wincing for his friend, he lengthened the solo out another minute to let the aerosol do its job. Racing back to the middle stage he and Jon faded into Only Lonely.

He extended the opening riffs, David catching his cue to lengthen out the keys. Back to back they stood at the middle mic. Richie took the brunt of the chorus again and relaxed as Jon moved into a near talking mode.

The ache in his throat eased slightly and he shot a grateful look Richie's way. Dammit if Kate were here she'd figure something out. This wasn't getting the job done, but no, she was way the fuck off in New York playing doctor. At least it wasn’t the fun kind of playing doctor, shit he could do with a spell of that right now. He closed his eyes and tried to push the damn thoughts away, concert was going to hell fast and he had to stop that. People paid good money to see this show, even the tease in leopard. He glanced up only to find her face and see anger there?

Well shit, pain or not he couldn’t have a fan pissed, he'd just have to ramp it back up and give them what they wanted, no matter how it felt. He glanced at Richie, nearly communicating with his eyes, only to see Richie honed in on second row.

As the solo started he leaned in. “What’s got your attention?"

"Hell, Elena'd have my ass," he muttered. He nodded to the girl in the purple leather mini. "She keeps dancing and singing like Lains."

"Goddamn ya got it bad if women are looking like your wife man. Now sing." Jon twirled, bounced through the end of the song and off stage. He'd give a million right now for his Kate. Damn if leopard lady wasn't starting to look good too.

Richie heard the pounding of Jon's sneakers on the catwalk. He followed suit for the sing along and they both climbed to the top. This was the hardest part for Jon. The high parts of Prayer fucked with his voice the most.

He'd started to let the fans sing the high parts of the song as it had climbed the charts. They were 80mins in, so encore was coming on fast. Thanking some small gods he couldn't see the purple leather chick he battled with Jon for side supremacy for the sing along which killed a good ten minutes of time.

As the sing along winner was declared Jon moved back to the stage and forced himself through the next songs, His eyes often straying to leopard lady. If it was just Kate, but it wasn't not with that blonde hair. Damn he missed her curls, her no nonsense manner, her ability to make the hurt go away. As the encore died off and they all stood side by side hands in air, he was, for the first time glad to see the end of a concert.

The house lights went down and they escaped to the back before the end tracks filled the arena. AC/DC had never sounded so good. He appreciated the slaps and the smiles from the roadies even though the show had been below par for their standards. The roar of the crowd was enough though. Even if he'd probably have to watch Jon drink a bottle of Jack to get over it.

They dropped into the battered couch in their dressing room. Richie pulled the towel over his face and leaned against the wall. Christ he was wet and dead. He'd poured everything he had into Wanted that night, but he'd lost Jon near the end. He just wanted it over.

And he wanted the girl in purple and it was wrecking havoc on his soul. He didn't want anyone but Elena, there was no way he was jeopardizing that with someone who'd be out of his life in a second and couldn't hold a candle to his wife.

Jon fell into the second couch, his hand snagging a bottle of Jack and tipping it up. Goddamned show sucked fucking lemons all the way through and it was his damned fault. The guys had done their best but his damned throat was abandoning him.

He took another swallow and felt the burn as it slid down his abused throat, his thoughts on that woman in the leopard print. Damned if he wasn't tempted, but fuck, it wasn't Kate and these days nothing did it for him like Kate did. Shit when did he become a one man woman, and revel in it?

Fuck it all, he'd just have to call her, bad voice and all, hell even her complaining about the abuse he was giving his throat would be welcome, besides, maybe she knew of something other than hurricane spray, it wasn't working so much anymore.

Richie snaked the bottle out of Jon's hands. "Better share after that shit bomb of an ending. Thank God we've got a few days off to recover."

He grabbed the bottle back and took another long pull. "Fuck yeah." He winced at the non existent volume of his voice and sighed. “I think I need it."

Richie stood. "I'm hitting the showers. I don't even feel like mingling tonight. Did Doc promise a photo op to anyone?"

"Yep he did man, sorry. You gotta be there." Jon sighed, He didn't wanna be there either, but he had no choice. It was time to smile and talk all sexy rough and pray to get through it. "You'll just have to deal King."

Richie's head tipped back. "Fuck," he swore crisply and headed into the showers.

He pushed off the couch with a growl and headed the same way. Time to pretty up and pretend everything was normal.