Fourteen

  

Between the Chords and Choruses

 

 

Lily made it through seven songs, which, honestly, was more than Ari expected. Stephanie offered to take her back to the hotel with Meatball, so Ari walked them to the dressing room to grab their things and collect the mutt.

 

On the way out, they found Jeanie waiting. She offered to ride along, mentioning she had work to catch up on and the hotel would be a lot less distracting than the arena. Of course, Gunnar tagged along too, because where Lily went, he followed without question. Nicole was on her way to catering and told Ari to radio her if she needed anything.

 

Ari couldn’t thank them enough. Watching the black SUV pull away, she exhaled a little more deeply than expected. This juggling act—balancing work, an infant, and the creeping complications of her pregnancy—was turning into more than she’d accounted for. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe it was time to think about hiring a nanny.

 

Once everyone was on their way, she headed back inside. The buzz of crew chatter cracked through the radio as she stepped into the corridor; something about a sound issue. Without hesitation, she confirmed she was on her way and headed straight to Obie.

 

After six trips between the front-of-house sound mix and the monitor station under the stage to get everything sorted, Ari was ready to order Cliff a pair of rollerblades so he could keep up with her. Worn out and thirsty, she dropped onto a stool beside Obie just in time to catch Jon shamelessly flirting with the crowd about jukebox favorites and sexy times.

 

Typical.

 

She’d be sure to remind him later that slipping in the full version of Pretty Woman and Bad Medicine paired with Bad Case of Loving You was no great surprise. Sentimental, sure—but not exactly subtle. But even still, the gesture landed like it always did, just beneath the surface, where old memories lived. Both songs had a history between them.

 

Back when she started working and he was just a cocky opener with too much eyeliner and too many smirks, he used to sing them under his breath when she passed by. Always teasing, always grinning. But even then, something unspoken hovered beneath the playfulness—something neither of them dared name.

 

Ari was tempted to slip backstage and catch him at the quick change while Richie took the lead on the next song, but the heat from the lights and all her running around had finally caught up with her. Nothing said romance like nausea and quick-change sweat.

 

She reached for the bag of Froot Loops Jeanie had left for her. Everyone knew they were the only thing that kept her stomach in check, which made the cereal both a lifesaver and an inside joke at this point.

 

“You okay, Lucy?” Cliff asked, watching her carefully.

 

“Yeah. Just a little queasy,” she said, holding up the bag of colorful circles. “These should help.”

 

“I can radio for Doc.”

 

“No need. I’m good, really.”

 

The cereal had become her little secret weapon—always settling her stomach when the baby didn’t approve of what she ate. She was grateful for that. Now, if only the dizziness would get the memo. Since sitting down, she’d already polished off three bottles of water, hoping the hydration would even her out.

 

Her plan was simple: make it through the acoustic set, then slip back to the dressing room. Maybe she would get Tony to rig up a live stream link so she wouldn’t miss the rest of the show entirely.

 

When Jon stepped onto the circle stage in a red, long-sleeved shirt, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang of disappointment. Sure, red was her favorite color, and sure, he looked good—but if he really wanted to win her over, he would’ve gone sleeveless. There was just something about his bare arms, especially when he stretched them wide or raised them overhead, that made her insides somersault. And it had nothing to do with the baby.

 

He opened with My Funny Valentine. Perfect for the day, and the crowd swooned right on cue. As the last note lingered in the rafters, he reached for his favorite guitar, handed off by a tech just out of view.

 

He took a deep breath, eyes closing briefly while adjusting the strap, fingers resting lightly on the strings. Then the first notes rang—soft, simple. Each chord was deliberate, yet there was something fragile in the way he played, as if he were unraveling a memory he hadn’t quite let go of.

 

Ari recognized the song instantly. It was usually played fast, but she preferred it stripped down like this. More tender, more real. She couldn’t help but watch him. The way his face shifted with the music—eyes half closed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips—held her still.

 

Then his voice cut through, low and steady.

 

Something about you I wanna rescue.

 

It hit her like a sucker punch. Harder than she’d expected. Or maybe it was just everything catching up with her—fatigue, hormones, too little food that stayed down. Either way, her body made the call before her brain could catch up. She blinked, trying to steady the slow sway in her vision. The Froot Loops had done their best.

 

Cliff was at her side before she could say anything. “Alright, Lucy. That’s enough tough girl for just one night.”

 

She didn’t argue. Just nodded.

 

“Come on,” he said, his voice gentle but firm as he helped her to her feet. “Let’s go find Doc.”

 

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

They made it to the video desk without her passing out or tossing her cookies in front of twenty thousand fans. Thank God for small victories.

 

Matt and Dr. Cummings were already there, posted like a team on the edge of chaos, two saline bags swaying gently from the pole between them.

 

Matt’s jaw was tight, arms crossed over his chest, wearing that all-business look he saved for crises and Jon. He scanned her from head to toe, not missing a single detail.

 

Dr. Cummings stood beside him, blood pressure cuff in hand and her surgical gloves already on. She was in full-on doctor mode. Not Nic, the friend who shared backstage jokes and late-night bar stops for karaoke. Nope, this was Dr. Cummings, and she wasn’t here to be soft. She took her job seriously.

 

“Take a seat,” Dr. Cummings ordered, her voice clipped.

 

Ari obeyed, quietly resentful but too drained to argue. She didn’t flinch as Nic reached for the access point on her PICC line, flushed it, and hooked up the first IV bag. The cool sting of saline crept up her arm.

 

“What the hell happened?” Tony asked, eyeing her with concern.

 

She shrugged, trying for casual. “One minute I was enjoying the show. The next, Cliff was holding me up.”

 

“Can I get an actual update?” Matt snapped. “So I know what to tell Jon when he comes off the stage?”

 

“Don’t tell him anything,” she said quickly. “If he asks, just say I’m sitting with Tony.”

 

“So… lie.”

 

“It’s not a lie,” she replied coolly. “I will be here for the rest of the show.”

 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Dr. Cummings said, cinching the blood pressure cuff on her arm. “If I don’t like your vitals, we’re going to the hospital.”

 

“That won’t be necessary. Really.”

 

Dr. Cummings didn’t respond. Instead, she gave Ari that look you give a child when they’re about to do something stupid, and it stops them dead in their tracks.

 

Ari exhaled and turned her attention to the video monitors, watching as Jon commanded the stage, shouting lyrics about sleeping when you’re dead.

 

Ironic—wasn’t it?

 

“Doin’ okay, Lucy?” Cliff leaned in, his voice soft in her ear.

 

How was it that this man who’d only known her for a year understood exactly what she needed without her saying a word?

 

She gave him a quick smile to let him know she was good and turned back to the screen.

 

“Vitals are good,” Dr. Cummings announced a few minutes later.

 

“So, I’m good to stay here?”

 

“Yes. But I’m connecting that second as a precaution.”

 

“Fine.” She turned to Matt. “When Jon comes off for the encore, you can tell him where I am and that I need the IV. But do not tell him how many.”

 

“I got it.”

 

“I mean it, Matt,” she pointed at him. “If you go over there with that look on your face, he’ll know something’s up. Just tell him his ‘surprise setlist’ wore me out.”

 

Matt gave her a salute before heading off to where he needed to be.

 

Once the second bag was connected, she told both Nic and Cliff that she was in good hands with Tony and they didn’t need to hover so closely. It was a tight enough squeeze with just her and Tony in the small space.

 

They agreed and promised to be just beyond the curtain if she needed them.

 

The minutes between Jon exiting the stage and reappearing for the encore hung in the air like the final seconds of a playoff hockey game—tight, breathless, loaded with expectation.

 

When he stepped back up to the mic, his voice calm and full of admiration, he thanked the crowd for spending their Valentine’s Day with them. Then, almost offhandedly, he mentioned the next song. He didn’t introduce songs often—not unless they were rarities, something with a little dust and history on them. This one definitely was.

 

The second he said the words Crush album, she knew.

 

Her heart stuttered.

 

She could count on one hand how many times he’d performed it on tour, and the last time was ten years ago. She remembered exactly where she was when it happened, and that version had nearly gutted her.

 

And now… he was about to do that again.

 

Ari let out a slow, steady breath. She hoped and prayed that she could get through the next five minutes without crying, without someone asking if she was okay. Because she wasn’t sure she was.

 

It wasn’t just the song. It was what it held. The time between them. The version of the story that never made it into interviews when Jon was on promotional tours, grinning behind sunglasses.

 

He once told a radio host it was inspired by a Brad Pitt movie he’d just watched. Casual. Safe. The kind of answer that didn’t invite follow-ups.

 

But she knew better.

 

He’d written that song during one of the darkest seasons of her life—when the weight of everything she couldn’t say, couldn’t fix, nearly swallowed her whole. Back then, there weren’t a lot of people who could have helped her. But Jon had. Quietly. Without asking for anything in return.

 

And this song? 

 

It wasn’t written for a film.

 

It was a lifeline.

 

Threaded through with chords and choruses, it was a message only she would recognize.

 

 

February 14, 2011

Air Canada Centre, Toronto

Setlist

 

Blood on Blood

You Give Love A Bad Name

Born To Be My Baby

We Weren’t Born To Follow

In These Arms

Lost Highway

The More Things Change

It’s My Life

Runaway

We Got It Going On

Pretty Woman

Bad Medicine w/Bad Case Of Loving You

Lay Your Hands on Me (Richie)

My Funny Valentine

Bed Of Roses

Superman Tonight (acoustic)

I’ll Be There For You

Who Says You Can’t Go Home

No Apologies

I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead

Keep The Faith

 

Encore:

Thank You For Loving Me

Wanted Dead Or Alive

Someday I’ll Be Saturday Night

Just Older

Livin’ On A Prayer