Chapter Two

Still smiling, Kimber watched as first astonishment and then blank stares came over the two faces in front of her.

"Deaf?" Jon asked.

"Yeah," she nodded, "deaf, as in deaf as a door knob. As in, can't hear a thing. As in, living in a world..."

He interrupted her. "I think we get the idea," he commented dryly, the corners of his lovely mouth lifting in a wry grin. He had on what he called his game face. The blank stare and slight grin he gave to reporters or photographers when he wasn't sure what to say or how to react. Meanwhile, behind those blue eyes, a million thoughts flashed across his mind in a matter of milliseconds, and they all had to do with things she'd never heard. She'd never heard a bird sing, Bruce belt out Jersey Girl or Born to Run, nor had she heard the Stones perform It's Only Rock and Roll. She'd never felt Steven's voice wrap around her while he sang Sweet Emotion. Or worse, she'd never heard Elvis.

Then, another thought flashed right behind the others. She'd never heard him sing, which probably meant she had no idea who he was, or that now he had trouble hitting the high notes in Prayer and Wanted.

She started speaking again, and he snapped out of his thoughts. "You two look familiar, have you guys ever been in here before?"

Richie almost choked on the drink he was taking a sip of, but it was Jon that answered her. "Nope, a friend said this was a great place to unwind while we were in town."

"I thought you said that you were from here," she said, thoughtfully.

"We are, but we travel a lot," he answered quickly. His wingman knew what he was doing and, for once, kept his mouth shut and his smart ass comments to himself.

Kimber felt the mat under her feet vibrate. "Well, guys, I gotta get back to work. There's somebody down there," she motioned with her hand at the other end of the bar, "that needs a drink."

"How do you know that?" Richie asked.

She pointed at the mat beneath her feet. "This mat vibrates when someone pushes that red button over there." A wave of her hand indicated the sign and button that the two of them had noticed earlier. "Back to work, you guys need anything before I go?"

"No, we're fine," Jon answered.

When she'd walked away, Richie turned toward Jon. "That was your opening, man."

"Whaddya mean?"

"Oh hell, Jon, a million responses all come to mind to that question. Do you need anything? Yeah, you. Or, yeah, your legs around my waist. Or, yeah, your lips on my..."

Jon quickly interrupted him. "I get the picture," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. The truth was he got the picture all too well and blamed his friend for putting those pictures of her beneath him and her on her knees in front of him in his head. He slugged Richie's shoulder. "Thanks a lot, pal," the sarcasm still in his voice.

"You're thinking 'bout it, aren't ya?" Richie asked laughing, knowing exactly what he'd done.

"Fuck you, Rich," Jon said, without heat.

"Careful. Such language. Considering the lady in question can read lips and is looking in our direction," Richie teased.

Jon swore softly and immediately turned his back to the bar. "Damn it, Rich. Shut the fuck up. I need a few minutes to process this."

"What's there to process?" Richie asked. "Well, other than the obvious. You want her."

"Either shut up, or turn your back to her. I'd like to keep this conversation private....please," Jon told him.

Richie was enjoying himself entirely too much to comply with Jon's request. He'd never seen Jon like this. "The woman is hot and sexy as hell, Jon. I know you saw her first, and I'll respect your claim, but if the deaf thing bothers you, I'll step in. Because, it certainly doesn't bother me."

Jon turned around because he certainly wanted her to read his lips for this part of the conversation. "The 'deaf thing' doesn't bother me." He turned back to face the room.

"Then what is it?"

"You wouldn't understand, Rich," he answered, impatient now. He was unsure how to explain it all to Richie, but he knew his friend wouldn't let up until he answered him.

Richie had a good idea what was bothering Jon, but replied, "So, make me understand."

Jon had been awkward in high school. He'd taken up the guitar to impress the girls. There was one sure thing when you were young...the jocks got the girls, and Jon had been too short and enitrely too skinny for football. So, he'd taken up music. Musicians had just as good a shot at the girls as jocks, well rock musicians anyway, not a school band geek. The one thing he felt he had going for him, she wouldn't get because she was unable to hear it.

He tried to explain that to Richie. "My music wouldn't mean shit to her."

"So?" Richie could be so dense sometimes.

"So," Jon tried again, "I'd just be on my own. Jon Bon Jovi, rock star, wouldn't impress her."

"And?"

Was he gonna have to hit Rich on the head with a rock? "Dammit Rich. Music's my gimmick, always has been. I don't use the sappy romantic lines that you throw out like they're nothing. I just pick up my guitar."

Richie understood, even if Jon didn't think he did. When he looked in the mirror, Jon didn't see what every woman in the world saw. Jon couldn't understand their fascination with his looks. Even Richie could admit that Jon was a great looking guy, apparently with a nice ass. Richie had even envied that ass, for a short time. Hell, he'd told an interviewer once, "Jonny boy might have the ass, but I've got it where it counts. Up front." Now, to Jon he said, "I get it now, you're shy."

"Shy?" Jon asked in astonishment. "Kiss my ass, Rich."

"Yeah, shy," Richie answered, grinning like a loon. He was enjoying this. "Your Giants tickets for this weekend against my Clapton tickets for the show in London says you can't rake up the balls to ask her out before we leave here tonight."

"You're on," Jon said softly.

At the other end of the bar, Kimber made a pina colada for a lady, but she continually watched Jon and Richie. She caught pieces of the conversation they were having about her, in between making the drink and looking their way. She read Richie's lips for the smart ass comments about how Jon should've answered her question and understood perfectly Jon's curse of 'Fuck you, Rich'. She almost laughed out loud at Richie's words about her 'eavesdropping' and Jon immediately turning his back to the bar. She would've missed Jon's statement about her being deaf not bothering him, if his quick movement when he turned back to face the bar hadn't caught her eye. But, she missed the rest of their conversation because Gino came up to ask her about her upcoming 'performance' on the bar.

Every night at about the same time, she would get up on the bar and do a little something. Sometimes it was just doing some fancy bottle throwing while music played really loud, timing her movements to the beat of the drums or bass that she could feel but not hear. And, other times, she'd give them a poem. Although, the poem's weren't really her thing, everyone had seen Cocktail and thought that all 'flair bartenders' were like Tom Cruise in the movie. They expected her to be a 'bar room poet' too. She spent the next half hour til 'show time' composing a poem in her head. She didn't want to use the one she'd written last night; she'd been inspired by a pair of charming blue eyes.

"Bar's closed," Tommy announced to the bar, and pushed the red button several times to get Kimber's attention. "It's Show Time!"

Kimber felt the mat vibrating and turned toward Tommy. Smiling at the room, she wiped her hands on her denim clad thighs and climbed the step ladder to the bar, consious of every eye in the room on her. She scanned the crowd, saw the applause and took a flamboyant bow. When she stood back up, her eyes met grinning blue eyes and she smiled before starting her poem.

"Back here, I've seen it all
from door's open to last call.
All the guys try their best line.

From 'I like your accent',
and 'I'd pay your rent',
To 'Hey baby, what's your sign?'

Now, I've seen some real cuties
and some real tight booties,
And, I've just let 'em all go.

There's been some real losers
and some hard core boosers,
That I wouldn't touch with a 10 foot pole.

Hope you've got your 4-leaf clover,
'Cause tonight, I've been won over,
by a pair of charming blue eyes."

Then she looked straight at Jon, and he felt a bolt of electricty all the way to his toes.

"So, take that chance....
and, take off your pants,
And, prove they're not all lies.

Bar's Open!"

She held out her hand and Tommy took it quickly to help her jump down from the bar. When her feet were on the mat again, Tommy looked her dead in the eye.

"Did you mean what I think you meant?" he asked her.

"Depends," she answered, "what did you think I meant?"

"Him," he answered, jerking his head in Jon's direction.

"Yeah, him," she nodded.

"Do you know who he is?" Tommy asked, grinning.

"Nope, should I?"

"Maybe not, since you don't listen to a lot of music," he replied, sarcastically, although she coudn't hear it in his voice she could read it on his face. "But, the guy's picture has been all over every magazine on the shelf, and his name's on everyone's lips, him being a 'hometown boy' and all."

"Well?" she demanded, "Come on, enlighten me, Tommy. I know you're just dying to."

"He's Jon Bon Jovi."

Tommy was right; she didn't listen to a lot of music, but even she had 'heard' that name and knew who he was. "Well, fuck!" she cursed.

Tommy threw back his head and laughed. Sobering, he grinned at her, "Glad I could let ya know what you were in for."

"Smart ass," she said, slugging his shoulder. "Ya coulda told me before I got up on the bar and made an ass of myself."

"Aww, but it's such a cute ass," Tommy teased, pinching her cheek.

"Back to work," she muttered.

"Wanna trade ends?" he asked her.

"And put me down there with him? Not on your life!"

"There's no way then that I could talk you into it?" Tommy asked with a smirk.

"Nope," she answered quickly. "No way will I trade."

"Okay, then," he told her shrugging. "Just don't ask me to trade later."

"Don't worry about it," she told him. She started to turn and walk away but stopped to add, "And if I ask, by all means tell me no."

"You got it," he told her, even though she was no longer facing him, and he knew she wouldn't be able to read his lips.

Kimber's mood immediately darkened even more when she turned to find that Jon and Richie had moved to sit at her end of the bar. Turning back to Tommy, she muttered, "Fuck you, Tommy."

Tommy laughed but made sure she could read his lips before replying, "Is that an invitation?"

"No, a suggestion," she sassed, then deicded to suck it up and go to work.

Jon and Richie had blatantly eavesdropped on the conversation between Kimber and Tommy, but only caught bits and pieces. Jon wasn't too happy that Tommy had felt the need to enlighten Kimber on the topic of his identity, but he let it go. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't care.

She approached the end of the bar where the two gorgeous men were sitting, one light, one dark. They reminded her of two fallen angels. Richie had the dark look of Lucifer himself, and Jon had the golden good looks that made him look almost redeemable, if not for the lure of the epitome of the dark side sitting beside him. Briefly, she wondered about the trouble these two had caused in their lifetimes and how many of those escapades Richie had dragged Jon into with just a mention of the temptations to be had. And how many Jon and initiated, with a twinkle in those beautiful blue eyes.

"So, Rock Stars," she said softly, "need anything?"

Jon flinched when Richie's elbow connected with his ribcage, accompanied by a soft snort of laughter. A quick motion of Jon's hand silenced Richie. The singer's eyes bored into Kimber's and made her weak in the knees long before the one word answer took her breath. "You."

Kimber blinked owlishly at him, before laughing shakily. "I'm not sure I know how to make that one. Wanna help a girl out?"

A devilish glint flashed in Jon's eyes and had Kimber rethinking who got who into more trouble. "I'd be happy to help ya out," he commented dryly, "but those kind of lessons require a bit more privacy. Not that I can promise that we could make another you, but I bet we could make one that looked a lot like you."

Her bare toes curled into the mat. She quickly realized that this man could drive an angel to sin and her completely insane. Hoping she wasn't about to make a huge mistake, she tossed back, "What's this? You've only known me a couple of hours and already you're offering to make a baby with me? Jeez, man, you move too fast for me."

"I was offering to teach you how to make one," he corrected. "We'll have lots of fun with your lessons, although, there will be tons of homework."

"You must not be a very good teacher then, if one lesson's not enough," she answered saucily, as she wiped down the bar.

"Oh, baby," Jon told her, he voice dropping to a sexy rasp, "I'm a great teacher."

Richie rolled his eyes, and had Kimber wondering how many times Jon had used that particular line. That's what kept her from just jumping over the bar to sexually assault him. Instead, she heard herself laugh. "I just bet you are, Rock Star," she shook her head, grinning. "I just bet you are." She paused briefly. "Do you two need anything to drink, or not?"

With his hand around a beer bottle, Richie shook his head. "Not me."

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night," Jon said.

"You gonna use all your lines then?" she asked.

He flashed her a boyish grin. "Only the best ones."

Kimber pushed rational thoughts aside. "Meet me here at six sharp tomorrow evening. Don't be late, Rock Star, 'cause I'll be outta here by 6:01."

"I'll be here," he promised softly. "Now, can I get another Jack and Coke?"

She nodded, all business now. Jon watched with admiration while she expertly tossed the whiskey bottle in the air, catching it behind her back, then twirling the long bottle around her hand and pouring some into a glass adding a splash of Coke. She slid the glass toward him, and murmured, "Enjoy," before she turned to take another customer's order.