Trina joined the others at catering, the group feasted on grilled chicken breast, salmon and an assortment of salads and pastas.
Trina decided to grab a plate of salmon and pasta. She joined Kendall and Darryl at the table that was opposite of the band.
“Where have you been?” Kendall asked.
Trina grimaced. “With Jon.” She replied. Kendall’s excitement turned into sadness. “What is it?” she asked.
Trina nodded her head. “Nothing.”
Jon walked into the catering room. He was smiling as he grabbed a plate of chicken and some tossed salad.
He walked over to Trina, Kendall and Darryl’s table. He sat down as if nothing had ever happened minutes before between he and Trina.
“Everything all right?” He asked all of them as he parked himself next to Trina. “Not bad.” Darryl said. Jon smiled at him. He picked up his fork and speared through a piece of chicken. “Good, because I realized that I better eat something. I’ve haven’t had a thing all day.”
“So that’s explains the ugliness.” Trina said.
Jon put the chicken in his mouth. He shook his head. “Come again?” He retorted.
“Come again and attempt to censor my writing because of something you don’t like or want people to see.” Trina told him plainly.
Jon flared back.
“My band, my songs, my rules. If you don’t like it, then leave.” He told her bluntly.
Trina snickered. “You listen. This maybe your band, your rules and your terms; but if you want me to do this for you, I won’t tolerate being censored, dealing with freakin’ temper tantrums and most of all moody bullshit.”
Jon simply just looked at her.
“I’ve heard about you pulling shit like this to other people and I’m not going to deal with it. I have a contract and a verbal agreement to post and write what I like.” Trina told him pointedly.
Everyone was silent. Jon got up. He slammed his food down on the table next to her and stormed out of the room. Juanita quickly went running after him.
He sped up the hallway. Juanita had forgotten how fast he was. She tried to catch up but her middle-aged body simply could not do it this evening.
“Jonny!” Juanita yelled. Jon kept on walking.
“Jonny! God dammit! I’m too old for this shit. Stop! Now!” She yelled.
Jon stopped dead in his tracks. Juanita catching her breath eventually caught with him. She put her arm on his shoulder in an attempt to brace herself. “Geez, son. What is wrong with you?”
Jon closed his eyes and turned to her. “I’m sorry Juanita, I didn’t realize you were behind me.” He told her sadly.
“What is wrong with you?” she asked. She continued to hold onto him. She felt her leg muscles begin to cramp up as she began to massage the back of her legs. Jon looked concerned for his long-time assistant and long-time friend of his family.
“Aunt Juanita, I’m so tired.” He said.
“You? If this is tired that you just pulled in this hallway, then I want to know what the hell exhaustion is!” Juanita quipped.
“Are you all right Aunt Juanita?” he asked.
“Jonny, I’m fine. Just getting more worried about you by the minute.” She told him.
“I told you. I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping much. My voice is acting up. Got this reporter here about to follow us around...” He said.
Juanita looked concerned.
“Backup for a minute. What’s wrong with your voice?”
Tears welled up in Jon’s eyes. “I’m losing-“ Jon told her. Suddenly, Doc came up behind Jon and interjected. “Losing his mind.” He told Juanita. Jon snickered. He took a deep breath, looked at his longtime assistant and gave her a peck on the cheek. Juanita looked angrily at Doc. She walked up the hallway and went into catering.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jon asked.
“No, what the hell are you doing?” Doc asked him. He continued, “Man, I know you’ve been burning the candle at both ends and the tour isn’t even close to being over. But you owe that lady in there an apology.”
“For what?” Jon asked.
“For treating her like you just did. You don’t re-nig on anything that pertains to this tour. She’ll write what she sees. You got that?” Doc told him.
“You want her to write about my voice problems?” Jon asked.
“Why not? You’re human aren’t ya?” Doc told him.
“And how are my fans going to react when she writes, ‘Oh my God. He opened his mouth and nothing came out!’ Jon told him.
“You yelling with that voice isn’t helping matters out right now either.” Doc said.
“If I want her to write about my voice, then I’ll tell her to write about it. How’s it going to look when people hear that I can’t sing?” Jon asked him.
His blue eyes appeared frightened and frustrated. Doc continued to push forward. He also listened and understood Jon’s point of view, but Jon was the one who agreed to all of the additional dates. He had to commit to them like it not. Doc, as much as he wanted to refused to back down.
“Trina as agreed will write what she sees. You will apologize to her. You will also apologize to her guests. Then you will calm down and get ready for your show. Is that clear?” Doc asked him.
Jon shot his manager a defiant gaze.
“Am I clear Jonny?” Doc said.
Jon rolled his eyes.
“You have a lot of nerve pulling a diva act when you have more people riding on you on this leg of the tour than the last one. Think of them and cut the bullshit. Now.” Doc told him as he walked back into the catering room.
Jon paced the hall for minutes. He knew Doc was right. He had a lot of people who needed him now. He couldn’t afford to be angry with himself for helping to create such a crazy schedule.
Trina came out. She watched him at the door, pacing frantically as if something spooked him. He noticed her out of the corner of his eyes, casually watching him with her arms folded in front of the door.
“You had no right to speak to me that way Trina.” He expelled.
“I have every right to. You said no limits and to write at will. I hadn’t even written a single word yet and here you are changing your mind before I’m able to do my job!” She yelled.
Jon stopped pacing. He raked his hair back with both hands. He felt his neck muscles slowly pull his head back; its searing pain couldn’t help but to tear through the back of his neck, eventually creeping through his temples. The weight of both the tour and the pace he had set for himself was already beginning to wear him down.
“True. I did.” Jon said, now rubbing the sides of temples in an attempt to alleviate the muscle tightness. Trina walked over to him. She attempted to touch his shoulders in a weak attempt to soothe the tension in his body, however; he winced in pain. She took her hand back quickly.
“Then let me do my job. I was wondering if you were all right at sound check. You seemed worried earlier. Like you do now. All I wanted to do was as a new friend see if you were okay.” She told him.
Jon closed his eyes. His temples throbbed. “I told you and everyone else, I’m fine.” He insisted. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. It’s just that-“
Trina looked concerned again.
“It’s just that no one for awhile has ever wondered how ‘I’ was.” He continued.
“You’re been nothing but great to me. You encouraged me, let me call you at 11 pm, insisted that I buy a ton of underwear.” Trina joked. Jon began to laugh. “See, that’s why I was asking you. In just a short amount of time, you have become a friend. I had no intentions of writing about your voice. At least for now.” She said.
“Thank you.” Jon replied taking a deep breath. Trina smiled at him. “I’m sorry for getting in your face.” She told him.
Jon laughed. “It’s all right. I need a reality check every now and then.”
“Let’s start again shall we?” Trina asked. “Hi, I’m Trina Logan, music reporter for the Philly Post and Rolling Stone. I’m here to cover the Jersey Syndicate Tour.”
Jon chuckled. “Hi, I’m Jon Bon Jovi and cover away.” He told her. She extended her hand. “Truce?” she asked. He took her hand in his. “Truce.” He replied.