Second Chapter

"Do it again."  He blurts from the sound booth.  "Let's start over from the top."  He commands with irritation in his voice.  

Bon Jovi is in the studio recording their next album, adding the finishing touches.  Jon and Richie, with the masters, booked some studio time at Mercury Records, planning to make a day of it.  

"Ok, Jon, from the top."  John Shanks responds into the mic, that goes directly into Jon's ear pieces.  John rewinds the tracked music and Jon starts to sing again.  For some reason, he can't get the words right.

"Again!" he demands, kicking the stand that holds his sheet music.  He gives John a few minutes to rewind the reel and they start again. 

After a few more tries, Jon gives up.  The music that he feels isn't translating in the words that he's saying and that aggravates him more than anything.

Reaching forward, Richie presses the intercom button, "He let's go grab a bite to eat. Maybe you just need a break."

"No, no.  I'm done." Jon tells them, removing the headphones, "I'm just not feeling it."

"Are you sure?"  John interjects.  "We have the studio for the day."

"I'm sure."  he starts, "Richie can do what he needs to do.  I just need to get out of here."  Jon leaves the recording booth and sits with the guys in the mixing room for a few minutes.  "I don't know what's up, but this record, man, it's killing me."

"What do you mean?"  John and Richie say in unison, looking at one another.  

Jon has been under alot of pressure.  Not only from the new album, but his philanthropic works has started to take it's tool too.  He's wanted in several places at the same time and it's starting to wear on him.  The kids are doing great.  All are excelling in school, Dorothea has her thing and she keeps pretty busy - Jon just tends to take on too much at once and even the strongerst crumble after time. 

  "I think I'm just going to go home, guys.  I'm sorry."  he stands from his chair.  Rubbing his thighs, either to relieve stress or push his pants down, "Rich, we can try again tomorrow, cool?"  He and Richie make eye contact.  At that moment, Richie can see that something is up.

"Yeah man, that's cool.  Are you okay?"

"'I'm good.  I think I'm just tired."  Jon admits, with his head hung low

John Shanks knows these two, very well.  He can hear that they have something between them that doesn't need to be spoken.  He can feel Richie's drive and energy and knows that it needs to be recorded when it's real, when it's raw.  But he also knows that Jon needs to get out of the studio before any inspiration that he has disappears.  To possibly never be heard again.  "Jon, go.  I can book the studio for tomorrow, if you want."

"I'll call you, okay?"

"Yeah, call me or shoot me a text."  John nods, giving Jon his approval to get the hell out of dodge and take care of him.

Jon leaves the studio under the cover of sunglasses and his Patriots hat, his head tucked into his jacket.  He leaves the building and turns right, up Broadway toward Columbis Circle, with no destination in mind.  

He needs to clear his head and figure out what's wrong, figure out what's holding him back in the studio.  The closer he gets to Central Park, the more enamoured he is with the people that are walking by.  The families that are taking photos of one another, families that are walking their dogs and living their generic lives.  He's realizing that he might be a little jealous of those that very well could be jealous of him.  

Jon finds a nice bench, tucked away between some trees and has a seat.  From within his pocket, he pulls out his Marlboro's and lights one.  One deep draw off the cigarette pushes some of his stress down.  Another pushes it even father down.

Some time passes and he realizes that he needs to get going.  Remembering that Dorothea is in Jersey, he has to do daddy car pool today.  Shit, I gotta get to Brooklyn.  He tells himself, jumping off and running to the street, to hail a cab.  "TAXI!" he yells, jumping into the path of one that had just dropped a couple off at the entrance of the park.  The taxi stops and he jumps in, "Poly Prep, Brooklyn."