The newsroom at the Philly Post was bustling. It was in the wee-hours of the morning; the editors were having both reviewers and reporters do one last polish of their stories before going to print.
Jon was intrigued. He put on his sunglasses because the bright, fluorescent light, glaring on various dry-erase boards and photo printers was too much. Especially at this early hour.
He watched Trina greet everyone. To his bemusement and to her amazement, not one staff member recognized him. They all thought he was a friend that she brought with her to the show.
She sat down at her desk. He pulled up a chair next to her from a neighboring desk and sat behind her.
Trina took out her notepad, some pens, and an extra notepad. She placed them neatly in front of her.
Jon stared curiously at her as she simply watched the items she placed on the desk for several minutes.
“Trina, you okay? “ Jon asked.
Trina sat and continued to look at the items she placed on the desk. She nodded. Jon looked at his watch.
“What time’s your deadline? “ he asked.
Trina looked at the clock. “Ninety minutes from now.”
He put his hand underneath his chin and watched her think furiously over what she needed to do. Meanwhile, he’s wondering how she could think with the radio blaring at full blast and people running back and forth as if they were chickens with they’re heads cut off. Jon took a deep breath and put his arm around Trina’s shoulder. Trina closed her eyes. She had never been more nervous yet felt more invincible.
“You can do this.” He told her. “I can’t tell you what to write. You saw it, you felt the energy, and you’ve talked to me and the guys.”
“But-“ Trina said.
”It’ll be fine. It’s your interpretation. I’m going to see it differently than you.” He told her picking up the notebook.
He began to leaf through the pages of notes she had collected from the evening. He smiled as he began to read through them.
Trina glanced over at him. He shook his head. He flashed a grin across his face. Puzzled by his concentration, she looked down in an attempt to see what he was looking at. His grin never waivered.
“What?” she asked. He took his arm from her shoulder; he continued to leaf through the pages of the notes as if he was reading a novel.
“This is good.” Jon replied.
“It’s not done.” She said appearing nervous.
“This is real good. Why are you acting so defensive?” he asked.
No one had ever seen what she wrote on a rough first draft before. Not even Darryl or Kendall. To her they were for feelings, impressions and mere suggestions of all that she saw. It was too raw, too naked. After some tweaking, she’d be able to work all of those problems out when she did the final draft of her review.
“Jon, it’s not done.” Trina reiterated. She attempted to take the notebook from him. He lifted up his sunglasses and flipped open a random page.
“The band had the crowd under its spell. For my first Bon Jovi show, the excitement and joy, wound up this sold-out audience like a top. With Jon Bon Jovi as its captain, he not only played pied piper by weaving intricate tales of love and commitment, but also found mutual ground with his peers, a rarity these days. “ Jon read. “That’s fantastic!”
Trina smiled. “That was good wasn’t it? “
“Yeah.” He nodded. “See, I knew you could do it.” He told her.
“Start rewriting. “ Jon said reaching over, grabbing the empty notebook and pen.
She looked over at him. “And you’re going to watch me finish this? Does Dot watch you write?”
“No.” he said. “But you…you get it. We’re on the same page.” Jon told her.
“Huh?” Trina said.
Jon nodded. “You get me. You’re not talking about how cute my ass is or what shampoo I used to wash my hair with this morning. You never had been to a show, but you watched and listened to me. You got it right the first time. Rare thing indeed.”
He looked over proudly at Trina. He was beaming.
“It’s cool to see someone with whom after everything is all said and done, get it. It’s an honor for any songwriter or journalist. Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten a review like that before.” He continued.
He stood up, bent over her and kissed her gently on her forehead. His lips were so warm against her cool skin. He brushed her hair back. He didn’t want to leave her. The two of them had such a great time that he never wanted this night to end. However, he knew that if he didn’t go, she wouldn’t finish the review. He knew that he was making her too nervous.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“Thank you.” He said. “I’m actually not going to watch you write, but actually go back to the hotel.” He told her rolling his eyes in disgust at the thought of seeing Dorothea at 1:30 in the morning.
“You want to wait and I’ll give you a ride back?” she asked.
‘No.” he replied. “I’ll walk. It’s cool. No more crowds for the night, it’s not that far. Besides, I need to clear my head.”
“Tell her Jon.” Trina said.
He sighed and nodded. “Okay.” He said weakly.
“You’ll feel better when you do.” Trina reassured him.
“I doubt it. But…whatever. You’re right.” He mumbled.
“Goodnight.” She said.
Jon walked to the door.
“Goodnight. “ he said as passed by a night pre-press foreman who was holding the door open for him. The foreman took a quick glimpse of the young man. Jon smiled back at him and walked out the door. The foreman looked at Trina. He was speechless.
“Mmmm. Was that? Ummmm-“ he said.
Trina nodded. “Yep.”
The foreman looked back at the door. “Really?” he asked.
“Yep.” She replied.
“What was he doing here?”
Trina began to laugh. “You don’t even want to know.” She said as she turned back to her desk.