23 - Kiss My Grits

Cassidy lounged contentedly on the suite’s sofa, listening to Jon plunk around on his guitar while she used her phone – and the wifi – for some research. 

It was early afternoon of his last day before going home, and she had spent much of the morning sans clothing.  They’d only had sex once, but he seemed to have a thing for her body, so she’d agreeably lain naked in bed while he was propped up against the headboard writing lyrics.  Occasionally, he’d reached over to curl a hand over her thigh or play with her hair, humming bits and pieces until he found what he was looking for.  Then he went back to his notepad to scratch something down.

There had been something remarkably intimate about lying naked with a man while he searched his soul for pieces to give away.  Most people probably didn’t think about how much of a musician’s being was invested in a single song, but Cassidy had been privileged enough to see it first-hand.  Even hours later, she remained humbled by his conviction that it was only possible due to her presence.

When their arrangement was done and over, it would – without a doubt – be the memory she recalled most frequently and fondly.

David’s departure was another memory that would stick with her, although not in quite the same way. 

Jon had told her last night about his talk with David and reassured that he hadn’t shared anything about their physical relationship, just that she was the muse that allowed him to compose.  Even so, she’d immediately suspected that David wasn’t going to be quite so friendly or willing to provide free piano lessons now that he knew.

That suspicion had been somewhat confirmed when he had stopped by on his way out of town with the intent of saying goodbye to Jon.  While he hadn’t been as boisterously charming as he had upon arrival, he hadn’t been cold, either.  Simply more subdued. 

Cassidy, being Cassidy, hadn’t been satisfied with the unspoken undercurrent in the room and had requested that David say whatever he wished, so that there were no misunderstandings between them.  What he’d conveyed was indelibly burned into her mind.

“He doesn’t look like a shell of himself anymore.  Lots of people have tried to make that happen, without success, so I have nothing for you but gratitude.  Unless you’re hiding some deep, dark, ugly secret that could grossly affect my opinion of you, you can consider me a friend for life.  However, as your friend, expect me to offer unsolicited advice – like ‘don’t do anything stupid to get your heart broken’.”

Naturally, she had offered her thanks and assured him – and, indirectly, Jon – that her heart wasn’t involved in the deal.  Accepting her words at face-value, he had then bid them both goodbye and gone on his way.

So Jon’s friend didn’t think her the scourge of the earth.  That was nice but, late at night, when everything was quiet except her mind, that’s not what she would remember.  In those times it would be David’s voice that came back to haunt her. 

“Unless you’re hiding some deep, dark, ugly secret.”

With a sigh, she tossed the phone onto one of the couch cushions and noticed that Jon wasn’t engrossed in his music anymore, but watching her. 

“Hi,” she acknowledged him with a smile.  “Takin’ a break?”

“Kinda.”

“Mind if I make a little conversation while you do?”

“Feel free.”

The guitar was propped into what had become a familiar position at the end of the couch and Jon wiped a hand over his face before slouching down in his chair.  The tail of yet another – or maybe the same – black t-shirt rode high on his back, exposing a sizable band of skin as he propped bare feet on the coffee table.

“Will you tell me a little about this album?  Why is it so important?”

“It’s not,” he denied, scratching his head.  “I owe the goddamn record company one more before I can tell them to kiss me and my album sales goodbye.  It’s just something I need to get out of the way so I can move on to something that does matter.”

She scooched down in a similar pose, feeling her own black t-shirt riding up over her Levis as she propped her feet perpendicular to his.  “Then why are you stressin’ over it?”

“Because….” He dragged his big toe along the arch of her foot.  “Even though I don’t care if it sells a single copy, it will. There are fans who will buy anything that has the Bon Jovi name on it and I owe them some kind of effort.”

“You’ve written a lot of songs in your life, I’d imagine.  Any idea of how many?”

“Hundreds.  Maybe as many as a thousand.”

“All those aren’t on albums, though, are they?”

He swiveled his head so that he was no longer looking their feet, but watching her curiously with that little wrinkle between his eyebrows.  “No.”

“Why can’t you use those?”

“I guess I could.”  One eyebrow arched with interest.  “Are you trying to get out of our deal?”

She shook her head with a little frown.  “No.  Just thinkin’ it would be easier on ya.”

“While I appreciate the thought – and it’s not a bad one – there will eventually be another ‘real’ album that I have to write songs for.  It would be nice to know I still can.”

“Alright, I guess I understand that.  But if it was me and I wasn’t happy with the folks I was doin’ the album for, I’d be sorely tempted to write a ‘don’t let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya’ song or two.”

Jon threw his head back with a boisterous laugh that made hear heart laugh along with him.  “I realize we’re in Nashville, but that’s not exactly my style.”

“Kiss my grits?” she countered with a grin.  “Later gator?  Adios?  Bon voyage?”   

His feet hit the floor and he grabbed the guitar to hoist it onto his lap, immediately strumming a little hoedown-style music.  “Sayonara, adios, auf wiedersehen, farewell, here’s one last song you can sell.  It’s a singalong as you can tell, feel free to play it for your friends in hell.”

Now Cassidy was the one rearing back with laughter.  There was no way he was serious about the crazy little ditty and that’s what made it so incredibly funny.  Getting way too involved in the silliness, he dragged it out with more and more goofy lyrics until it was just a step short of ridiculous. 

“Oh good Lord,” she giggled as her phone rang.  “You have to write that down.  If nothin’ else, David will appreciate it!”  A quick inspection of who was calling had her rising to her feet.  “It’s my sister.  Pardon me for a minute or two.”

Even when she was ensconced in the bedroom, Jon’s twangy chords remained audible and she was still laughing when the call connected.  “Hey, Sis!  How ya doin’?”

“Well, you sure do sound as fine as frog hair,” Libby remarked, seeming like her normal self instead of the human stressball Cassidy had become used to as of late.  “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Oh, Libby.”  She perched on the chair and stretched her feet out until her toes gripped the edge of the bed. “You cannot believe what’s been goin’ on the past few days.”

“Did you find Beauregard Beasley?”

That was enough to wipe the smile from Cassidy’s face.  “No, but I’m gonna spend all day tomorrow lookin’.”

“Well, if not that, then what?”

So Cassidy provided the condensed version of what she thought of as Redneck American Idol, doing much as Jon had done by leaving the physical aspect out but still telling her sister that she was Jon Bon Jovi’s “muse”, that they'd recorded a duet that she couldn’t wait for Libby to hear, and that David Bryan had given her a piano lesson.

“Holy shitsticks, girl!  Who woulda ever dreamed?”

“It’s definitely a far cry from what I’ve spent my life doin’.” 

Then again, so is bartendin’.   

###

Jon chuckled to himself, scribbling away as he took Cassidy’s suggestion to write down the tongue-in-cheek tune that flipped a proverbial bird to his label.  It amused him enough that he was tempted to put it on the album just to see if any of those dipshits at Island would notice.

He was just jotting down a notation about giving them half the publishing when his phone vibrated on the table.  It took only a quick look to bring a grin to his face, because the notification was from Dave – the only man in the world that might appreciate this song as much as Jon.

[1:15 PM]DAVE:  Vampire marks on her neck shared more secrets than u did.

He snorted, perversely pleased that his friend had noticed the hickey on Cassidy’s neck.  After all, he was the reason it had been put there in the first place. 

[1:16 PM]DAVE:  Remember that I’m not the only 1 who knows what a ducking hickey looks like. 

[1:16 PM]DAVE:  FUCKING.  Damn autocorrect.

Jon’s fingers paused in typing a response and laughed.  Did technology gurus really think anybody spent that much time talking about ducks and ducking?

[1:17 PM]JON: HA!  you're the only one who’d connect it to me.

[1:16 PM]DAVE:  Hope u know wtf ur doin. 

Did he?  Not in the grand, masterplan sense of the word, but he knew he felt better at this very moment than he’d felt since...  Hell, way before Richie left.  He remembered feeling this good back in 2010 – that was why he’d gotten a wild hair to throw out a greatest hits album and extend the tour into 2011.  In the five years since then, though…

[1:17 PM]JON: It’s all good.

[1:18 PM]DAVE: Nice girl to get her heart broken.

Break her heart?  It had only been a few hours since Cassidy had flat-out said her heart wasn’t involved.  Dave had been standing right there.  He must have doubts, but that’s because he didn’t know her like Jon did.  She didn’t play games and was meticulous about managing both of their expectations.  No misunderstandings and all that. 

[1:20 PM]JON: She won’t

[1:22 PM]DAVE: How bout u?

What the hell?  That was the trouble with text messages.  Because they were a pain in the ass to type, Dave was intentionally brief to the point of being vague.  He really needed to figure out that voice-to-text feature and use it, because it sure as hell sounded like he thought Jon’s heart was involved.

Happiness, maybe.  Not heart.

[1:24 PM]JON: We’re on the same page

There.  If Dave could be vague as hell, so could he.

[1:25 PM]DAVE: Same book tho?

Jon refused to dignify that stupidity with an answer.  He was going back to the stupidity that would get the label off his back.