Not This Time

Nina: January 17, 1986

     "Yeah, just like that," I declared, bobbing my head to the beat I'd coaxed the crowd into clapping for me. I looked over my shoulder and nodded to the drummer. He hit the kick and the snare in time with the crowd's clapping, quickly becoming the guiding force of the group. Four kicks and then I started.
     "Now everybody," I sang, "Have you heard? If you're in the game, then stroke's the word."
     I pointed at the guitarist as he played his part, then yanked my hand up when it was done, as if he could only play while I pointed at him.
     "Don't take no rhythm," I sang, wagging my finger. I pointed at the guitarist again and, once again, pulled my hand back when he was done. I wagged my finger again. "Don't take no style." I pointed one last time at the guitarist. This time, when I pulled my hand back, I made it into the shape of a gun. "Gotta thirst for killin'!" I shot my imaginary gun and threw my hand into the air, "Grab your vial!"
     I twisted my hips and danced to the guitars. "Whoo!" I called, mimicking Billy Squier. The crowd cheered at the pick up and we all jammed for a minute.
     As I sang the second verse, I couldn't help thinking of Jon and the many performances of his that I'd seen. Those silly dance moves always made me smile. And my smile made him smile. My stomach flipped at the thought of it. We'd been spending our evenings together after his writing sessions, and we were growing closer by the day. Maybe his fearless stage presence was wearing off on me. I spun in place, unable to contain my grin as we launched into the chorus.
     "Stroke me, stroke me," the band sang behind me as I danced.
     "Could be a winner boy, you move quite well," I sang, motioning vaguely to the audience.
     "Stroke me, stroke me!"
     I pointed with intent at the crowd in front of me and they shouted, "Stroke!"
     I swung my hips to each side and then dropped a bit on the low note of the bassist's groove.
     "Stroke me, stroke me!"
     "You got your number down!" I sang, pointing to the floor and offering as much swagger as I could.
     "Stroke me, stroke me!"
     I motioned to nobody in particular in the audience and sang, "Say you're a winner, but man, you're just a sinner now."
     The guitars took over once again. I rolled my shoulder to the melody they played and bobbed my head left and right to the higher-pitched accent warble when it played. The crowd seemed to love my dancing, and I'd never felt more alive.
     I'd always loved the stage, ever since Maribelle had forbidden me from performing in the school talent show. This, though, felt right. I could see why Jon loved it so much. The crowd, the lights, the music. It was such a rush.
     "Stroke me, stroke me," sang the band, starting the second chorus.
     I sang and danced, but an unwelcome thought had popped into my head. Don't draw attention to yourself. I froze for just a moment, but, thankfully, it worked with the song, so the performance wasn't ruined. I pushed the thought out of my mind and focused on the music. And the lights. And the crowd. We were heading into the bridge.
     I punched the air eight times on beat with the drums, signaling the crowd to shout 'stroke' between each beat. The audience knew the song and gladly sang along. When the music came back in, I jerked backward as if to signal it. Then I rolled my shoulders to the melody again.
     "Y'better listen now!" I sang, "Said it ain't no joke! Don't let your conscience fail ya! Just do that stroke." I danced across the stage during the brief guitar riff, and then back to center. "Don't you take no chances!" I motioned to my eyes, then the floor, then the ceiling as I sang, "Keep your eye on top!" I did my best imitation of Elvis Presley's dance moves, singing, "Do your fancy dances! You can't stop, you just."
     "Stroke me, stroke me!" the band sang, the drummer holding down the "stroke, stroke" in the background as I turned to them and made grand gestures like I was conducting and orchestra. Then I turned on the crowd and motioned for them to sing.
     They mimicked the band, "Stroke me, stroke me!"
     "Stroke, stroke," sang the drummer.
     I pointed at the bar. "Stroke me, stroke me," the people at the bar sang.
     "Stroke, stroke," sang the drummer.
     I pointed to the bachelor party in the opposite corner, and they sang, or rather shouted, "Stroke me stroke me!"
     "Stroke," started the drummer, but I cut him off.
     "Do it!" I sang, jumping up in the air.
     "Stroke me, stroke me," everyone sang, including me.
     "Stroke!" called the drummer. I did that hip-swing-and-drop move again when the bassist played that groove. Every time.
     "Stroke me, stroke me," they sang.
     "Keep on," I countered, still dancing.
     "Stroke!" called the drummer. Bass groove.
     "Stroke me, stroke me!"
     "Y'know you gotta!" I sang.
     "Stroke!" called the drummer. Bass groove.
     "Stroke me, stroke me!"
     "Say you're a winner, but man, you're just a sinner now!" I sang, closing out the song.
     The audience clapped and the bachelor party in the back whooped and hollered. I grinned at the noise they were making and nodded to the crowd.
     "You guys all sounded great!" I told them, fitting the mic back into its stand "I couldn't have done it without you." I motioned to the rest of the band, "Give it up for your house band, guys." The noise swelled once more and I then I said goodnight.
     I hopped off the platforms that the bar called a stage and pranced over to the bar. The barkeep offered me a high five as he set a glass of water on the counter. I grinned and took the glass, returning his high five with a shake of my head. As I brought the glass to my lips and took a drink, my eyes fell on Jon, who was sitting near the end of the bar smirking at me.
     Oh God, how long had he been there? Did he see that whole thing? I could feel my face burning at the idea. I'd never intended for him to see me. I didn't care what a bunch of strangers thought, but him? His opinion shouldn't have mattered to me either, but it did. I watched over the brim of my glass as he got up and started toward me.
     "You sounded great," he complimented, leaning on the bar next to me. I avoided making eye contact, but he went on anyway, "I didn't know you could sing."
     I finally lowered the glass and made a face in his general direction but not directly at him. "How long were you there?" I asked. He grinned.
     "Long enough," he replied with a knowing smirk. I looked up at him and frowned. He laughed, "I got here a minute or so before you went on." I grimaced and brought a hand up to cover my face. He only chuckled more. "I gotta say," he said, "I'm glad I got here early."
     "I never meant for you to see me up there," I sighed, dropping my hand and making a face at him.
     "Why?" he laughed.
     "I looked silly 'cause I can't dance.." I excused, trailing off with a wave of my hand. I took another drink of water.
     Jon shrugged. "I thought you could," he retorted in a low tone, leaning toward me a little, "You sure know how to work your sex appeal." I tried my hardest not to react, but I could tell my face was beet red. He snickered at me.
     "I don't have sex appeal," I scoffed once I'd finished my drink.
     Jon smirked again and glanced away from me. When he turned back, he said, "I think that bachelor party disagrees." He turned to face me. "Besides that, I disagree. And I know sex appeal."
     I snickered. "Of course you do, Rockstar."
     He grinned at me but didn't argue my sarcastic response. Instead, he asked, "Why don't you record? You've got the voice, the presence."
     I rolled my eyes and shook my head, but grinned all the same. "I do not need the attention right now, Rockstar. Maybe some other time."
     He shrugged, watching me retrieve the coat I'd asked the bar tender to keep behind the bar for me during my shift. Jon waited for me to turn my attention back to him before saying, "I think you'd make it."
     "You're sweet," I chuckled, letting the subject fall out of the air as I pulled my coat on. He threw an arm over my shoulders and started both of us toward the door. I let him guide me. I didn't even look up where I was going; I let him be responsible for that. My mind was drifting.
     Don't get involved. It kept running through my head, reminding me that, no matter how much I liked Jon, I couldn't have him. I couldn't let myself fall for him. I felt pretty confident that I could keep my little crush in check. I'd done fairly well during the first tour. I could do it again. He'd get back with Dorothea before tour and it would all be okay.
     "So about your birthday," Jon prompted, bringing my attention back to him as we stepped outside. He let go of me and the cold January air bit at the back of my neck where his arm had been. I shivered but nodded for him to continue. "I have that day off. I was thinking I'd take you somewhere."
     I couldn't tell if the chill that ran through me was surprise at the offer or simply the winter air. For a minute, I considered turning him down, but some part of me rationalized that he might not have meant a date. There was always that one part of me that didn't want to care about the rules. It was telling me to say yes.
     "Where?" I asked skeptically.
     "Where do you want to go?"
     I shrugged. I didn't know places around New Jersey in this time. Or even New York. "I don't know," I said, "Someplace pretty. Central Park, maybe?"
     Jon frowned and shook his head. "Everyone goes to Central Park," he complained.
     I blinked at the comment. Did that mean he wanted to be alone with me? I scoffed at myself and shook my head a little. I was reading too much into it. It was probably just that he didn't want to be crowded on his day off. Maybe.
     "If you like the outdoors," Jon started again, "I know a place you might like. You like nature walks?"
     I smirked. "Um, yes," I replied as if he should have known. He smirked too.
     "Cool," he chuckled, "How about you meet me in Newport and I'll drive us there?"
     I crossed my arms and glanced between him and my car. "You just want to drive my mustang!" I accused with a grin. He laughed too and looked over at my car, then back at me with a shrug. I shook my head at him, still smiling. "Where would we be going?"
     "Someplace pretty," he mocked. I frowned at him and he laughed, but I didn't insist on anymore information.
     I considered it for a moment. It would probably be just him and me. I could handle it, right? Yeah, for sure. I assured myself of this. He was just another guy. A ridiculously attractive guy, but still, just a guy. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath of cold air, and let it out.
     "Alright," I sighed reluctantly, looking up at him. He grinned and pulled his fist back toward him like he'd just won something. I smiled a little and he turned that beautiful smile of his on me. I blinked and looked down, another blush warming my cheeks. "But for now I've got to go home," I told him.
     "Why?" he protested.
     You're making me giddy. Of course, I didn't tell him that. "I'm tired, Rockstar," I told him instead. It wasn't entirely false. I really was tired, but I would have stayed up all night with him if he'd asked me to. "I have to sleep. You probably should too."
     He shrugged.
     "Promise you'll try," I commanded.
     He smiled and rolled his eyes. "I'll try."
     I smiled and held my arms out for a hug. He stepped in and pulled me to him. His heart was beating fast. All I could do was pray that he didn't notice how fast mine was going. His arms wrapped around me and I was so comfortable I never wanted the hug to end. He leaned his head against mine and took a deep breath. Right before he let go of me, he squeezed my waist tighter. Then he stepped away, letting the winter air get at me again. He shivered too.
     "Goodnight," he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It took me a minute to realize that I was still standing there, even though I'd said I was going. With an awkward nod, I stepped over to my car, pulling my keys out of my jacket pocket. He was still watching me when I looked back at him.
     I smiled. "See ya later." There it was. That smile. Butterfly frenzy. He bit his lip and turned away to head down the sidewalk. The butterflies still hadn't settled by the time I'd gotten my car started.
     I couldn't fall for him. I just couldn't. I took a deep breath and pulled out of the space. The whole drive home, I assured myself that there was nothing between us. The whole drive home, that one part of me contradicted every point I made. I pulled into the alley next to my building and shut off the car.
     Don't draw attention to yourself. Don't get involved. Don't change the future. Those were the rules. Jon's smile appeared in my mind, but I pushed it away. I shook my head as I got out of the car. There was nothing I could do. Everything about Jon Bon Jovi was against the rules.