Thirty-Two

Happy Birthday ... to Me

  

March 2, 2011

Wells Fargo Center, Philadelphia

 

Another birthday spent under arena lights. If his night ended half as good as it began, he’d call it one hell of a birthday.

Last night’s show in Boston had wrapped late, and instead of going home, they’d flown straight to Philly. By the time they got to the hotel, the plan was to sleep in. His wife had other plans — plans he’d never dream of complaining about. Hell, every morning should start like today.

Lazy, dirty, and absolutely worth the loss of sleep. He’d barely had time to catch his breath before they were tangled up again.

Second trimester for the win — her energy was back, and he was the very grateful beneficiary.

By the time she finally rolled off him to go deal with her trucks and crew, he was grinning like a pig in shit, feeling both utterly content and stupidly lucky.

Now, hours later, he was sitting in his dressing room with a half-empty tea cooling beside his notepad. The top page was a mess of scrawled song titles, arrows, and circled numbers — tonight’s setlist was slowly taking shape. Philly. It was always a wild crowd here, always ready to rock.

With that in mind, he scratched out the opening song and replaced it with one he knew would light the place up.

His phone buzzed quietly against the cluttered wood table. Half-empty bottles of water, crumpled paper, and rogue Froot Loops. Lily’s sippy cup and tiny pink headphones made up the usual collage of his tour life.

He glanced down and smiled. The group chat with the kids lit up the screen — four messages, four personalities, all armed with the same sharp wit he’d come to expect.

[2:36 pm] Jesse: Happy birthday, old man. Try not to break a hip tonight. 

 

[2:37 pm] Steph: Don’t party too hard. You’re not getting any younger.

 

[2:38 pm] Ro: HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY! I LOVE YOU!!

 

[2:39 pm] JAKE: HBD! Don’t forget your walker when you head to the stage. 

 

Jon smirked, fingers flying over the screen.

 

[2:40 pm] Thanks, you little smartasses. I miss you. See you tomorrow. 

Before he could put the phone down, it rang — the familiar ringtone bringing another smile to his face.

“Happy Birthday, Jon.”

“Thank you, Ma.”

“I’m here too, son. Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks, Pop. What are you two up to today?”

“Missing you,” his mother said, her voice soft and a little wistful.

“You saw him two days ago, Carol,” his father chimed in, teasing. “And you’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Oh, hush, John. It’s a mother’s right to miss her children, especially on their birthdays.”

Jon laughed. “I know, Ma. Hey, we’ll pick up at 3:30, and then we’ll head into the city to grab the kids before dinner.”

“Yes, Ariana called us,” his father said. “We’ll be ready.”

“Okay, I gotta go get ready.”

“Kiss Lily for us, will ya?” Carol said.

“Will do. Love you both.”

“Love you too, Jon,” his father replied.

The line went dead, and Jon tucked the device into his pocket. Pushing off the couch, he headed out to find Ari and Lily.

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

 

Ari sat at one of the long catering tables, her laptop open in front of her, fingers flying across the keys as she made a few last-minute changes to the Uncasville show schedule. The steady hum of conversation and clattering dishes surrounded her, but she was lost in her own world, the chaos fading as she typed. She was deep into the rhythm of work and wanted to get it finished before Gloria would be back with Lily.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her out of focus. She glanced down to see a FaceTime call from Romeo. A smile tugged at her lips, and she swiped to answer.

“Hey, buddy!” she said, her voice warm and bright.

“Hey, Ari.” His voice brimmed with the kind of excitement only a six-year-old could muster. “I got new names for the baby.”

Ari grinned. It was a daily ritual now — one of the many things she looked forward to. Name suggestions came by text, call, or the occasional FaceTime, sometimes from all the kids at once. And Jon’s absolute certainty that the baby was a boy only fueled the chaos. Ari wasn’t convinced; she still felt like it was another girl.

“Are these a group effort,” she asked, “or just yours?”

“Mine. They always say no to my names. Mommy was yelling at Jake for his homework, so I took his phone so I could send them.”

Ari laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, maybe we should wait for the others. I don’t want you getting in trouble too.”

“Who’s getting in trouble?”

Ari looked up and saw Jon standing in the doorway.

“Hi, Dad! Having a fun birthday?” Ro asked.

Jon chuckled. “Yes, Ro. Now tell me, who’s in trouble?”

“Jake. He didn’t do his homework, so Mommy took his phone away.”

“And you’re calling from his phone?”

“Yes! I needed to give Ari my name suggestions.”

Ari nodded at the screen, still smiling. “The others always say no to his.”

“Ah, I see.” Jon folded his arms, trying not to laugh. “I don’t want you getting in trouble too, buddy. Why don’t you hang up, and you can give your suggestions when we are all together tomorrow?”

“But Daaad!” the boy scowled. “These have a special meaning.”

“Special?” Jon asked, his tone softening.

“Yeah. For Ari.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “For Ari, huh? Sounds important.”

“It is,” he said, sitting up straighter. “’Cause her birthday’s the Fourth of July, right? But she doesn’t really like it…” He paused, glancing up like he was checking if he’d said something wrong. “So I thought maybe if the baby comes close to it, we could give it a fun name to help her like her birthday again.”

Caught off guard, Ari felt her throat tighten, tears pricking unexpectedly at the corners of her eyes. “You’re something else, kiddo. That’s really sweet.”

“Wanna hear them?” he asked eagerly, the seriousness already giving way to excitement.

Jon leaned back, resting a hand on the back of Ari’s chair. “At this point, I think we have to.”

“Okay! I got four names,” Ro announced, wiggling the piece of paper like it was some top-secret list. “First is Liberty, ’cause of Ari’s birthday. Then Sky, uh… ’cause that’s where we look when we shoot fireworks. Number three, Star, because they look pretty.”

He paused for dramatic effect. “And number four… Blue.”

Ari laughed softly. “Blue, huh?”

“Yeah! ’Cause Lily really likes blueberries. And maybe this baby will too. Or maybe not. But I like it, so that counts, right?”

Jon nearly choked trying not to laugh.

“Uh oh, Mom’s calling me. Kiss Lily and Meatball for me. Bye.”

The screen went dark, leaving Jon and Ari smiling at each other.

♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

Jon stepped up beside her as the band gathered at the bottom of the stage stairs. Tico tapped his sticks lightly against his thigh, Richie rolled his shoulders, and Lema bounced on his heel — all the pre-show rituals Ari had grown used to over the years.

“See you after,” he said, brushing a hand across the small of her back.

“Knock ’em dead,” she replied.

Jon gave her that quick, private grin, the one that still curled something warm in her belly, and jogged up the steps, swallowed by the dark lights and the rising rumble of the crowd. Ari waited until they were fully out of sight before disappearing down into the underbelly of the stage where she’d be watching tonight.

Tony sat in front of a wall of screens, each one showing a different angle of the stage or crowd. When he saw her approaching, he scooted over a bit to give her space.

“Doing your version of a front-row seat tonight?” he asked, arms crossed against his chest.

“It’s the best one,” Ari replied.

The house lights dropped, and the building exploded.

The roar hit like a physical wave, vibrating through the floor, up through the metal rails, right into her chest. On the row of monitors, the flood of light caught Jon as he burst onto the stage.

“Jesus,” Tony muttered. “Gonna be a good one tonight.”

From the first note, there was a sharpness to him — that determined, hungry edge he only had when he was set on delivering a monster show. The band locked in immediately.

He was on fire.

Just Older. Of course he’d open with this one. She couldn’t help but grin when he kicked off the solo before trading off with Richie, who effortlessly took it the rest of the way.

Song after song, the energy built. His vocals were strong, the band tight, and somewhere around the halfway mark, Ari realized the show had taken on that unmistakable momentum — the kind you couldn’t fake, couldn’t force, the kind that just happened when everything aligned.

And the circle set? That was always her favorite part. No matter where in life they were, he always had a knack for picking songs that reflected their story. He stepped out alone first, the spotlight catching that glimmer in his eyes as twenty thousand hearts hung on every word of What Do You Got.

“You good?” Tony asked, passing her a napkin.

“Pregnancy hormones,” she said, accepting it to wipe her tears. “If you tell anyone…”

Tony held up his hand. “I know better. Don’t ’cha you worry.”

They both laughed as Jon called Richie to join him. Richie’s bluesy solo tonight on Diamond Ring sliding through the speakers had to be one of her all-time favorites, ever.

I’ll Be There for You turned the whole arena into a choir, phones glowing like stars from the floor to the rafters. As the final notes faded, Jon paused, eyes catching on a woman on the rail wearing a ridiculous plush birthday-cake hat, candles wobbling as she held up a sign.

Ari watched his face, saw the smirk twitch before he even walked to the mic.

“I don’t know…” he drawled, shaking his head. “Naaah. I’m not the goofy hat kinda guy.” He turned to look at Richie. “That’ll be on the internet tonight!”

The crowd roared.

“I’ll play pin the tail on the donkey with you, though,” he added, grinning. “Blindfold me, spin me around the room a bit…”

Tony snorted beside her.

Jon turned over his shoulder. “Hey, let’s get Dave and Tico out here.”

While the guys made their way onto the circle, Jon stood in front of the mic, mischief written plain as day across his face.

“I’d like to spank a couple of asses in this room,” he announced.

The place lost it.

Ari dropped her forehead into her hand. “And this is before wine.”

Tony cackled. “The plane ride home sure is gonna be fun.”

The night barreled on, the crowd feeding them energy like a live wire. When they finally closed with Blood on Blood, the entire arena was swaying, shouting, arms raised. A song about loyalty, about friendships that outlived everything — but as always, he sang it like he meant it for them. The fans who had carried him for decades.

On the monitors in front of them, he stood in a wash of golden light, sweat-slicked and smiling, owning every inch of that stage.

Tony let out a low whistle. “Hell of a birthday show.”

“Definitely one for the record books,” she said, handing back his headset.

“Going somewhere?”

“Gonna grab Lily from Gloria.”

“Mm hmm.”

She rolled her eyes at him and slipped out from under the stage as the final chords faded and the arena lights began to rise. Crew members rushed past in practiced chaos, but she moved through them easily. Gunnar and Gloria were already heading her way with a wide-awake Lily chewing on her crew pass.

“Hey, my sweet girl,” Ari said, taking Lily into her arms. “Let’s go see Daddy.”

By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, Jon was coming down them — sweat-soaked, flushed, chest still rising hard with the high of the show. He spotted them instantly, that wide, exhausted, boyish grin breaking across his face.

“There’s my girls,” he said, voice rough but full of warmth.

Ari shifted Lily slightly. “Say hi, Daddy.”

One pudgy hand reached for him, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it, then leaned in to brush another soft one across Ari’s cheek.

“You were incredible tonight,” she said, brushing a sweaty curl off his forehead.

He huffed a laugh. “I was fueled by birthday sex and parental harassment. Powerful combination.”

Ari snorted. “Whaddaya say we blow this popsicle stand?”

“Ask me that again later,” he replied, winking at her, then motioned to Matt and Cliff that they were ready to head out.

Lily stretched her tiny arms toward him. Jon grinned and scooped her up from Ari, holding her close as she wriggled happily in his arms. Together, they began weaving through the bustling crew and equipment, the afterglow of the show still humming in their bones as they headed home.