BlueSilkenSky
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
Okay, I know that a certain event mentioned in this chapter did not happen until the second leg of Elevation was well underway, but I had to make it happen early. For plot reasons. Just bear with it.
Anyway, that error alone should make you believe that this is all fiction!
On the plane headed for Stockholm, Edge found it necessary to lean across the aisle, prod Bono out of his musings, and ask “How are things going in Dublin?” Edge knew. Edge would always know.
Bono sighed, a sound that shook his soul, and explained. Things were not going well in Dublin. His father had fallen ill the night before, and it grew bad enough for him to be hospitalized. Bono had flown from Copenhagen to Ireland, secretly in the night, to see what was going on. He had told no one the business concerning his father, and was ready to unload it all on Edge.
Edge listened sympathetically as Bono told him about the trip to the hospital. His father had no outward symptoms, none that Bono could see, but it was heartbreaking to have to talk to him from above a bed. His father, Bono added with the hint of a chuckle in his voice, was not acting any worse the wear- well, if you took into account his temper these days, which was perpetually displeased. To Bono’s insistence, the illness only made up a fourth of explanation to Bob’s grumpy demeanor.
“I hope he gets well soon,” Bono said quietly, and peered down at the newspaper that still remained in his hands. “Edge, would you listen to this?” he followed up his remark with, and Edge was relieved but a smidgen reluctant to abandon the subject.
Bono read from the newspaper. “I’d like to say, you look quite enchanting. Ravishing even, if I may be so frank. Hell, what’s the need for frankness? You’re beautiful, woman. I’ll give you that.” He winced, not remembering those words but not liking them either.
“Go on?” Edge murmured. He was intrigued. Bono hadn’t read him certain parts of the interview, and Edge wanted to know what Bono hated the most about it.
“Oh, but I’ve got a wife at home. Ali, yes, that’s the bird. My Ali… We don’t get times off tours often, you know. We’re not going to be in Dublin for very long. Tonight’s my last chance to make some love with Ali.” Bono stared at Edge over the newspaper. “You don’t really need to hear what I said after that.”
Edge grimaced. “They’d publish that in a newspaper?”
Bono threw up his hands. “Anything to get readers, I suppose. God! If Ali finds out about this interview she’ll be angry as shit.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Edge murmured, thinking personally that Bono was doomed.
Bono snorted. “If you say so. Let’s just try and forget this for the moment, all right?”
“First you have to get rid of that newspaper,” Edge said. “Here, I’ll do it for you.” Ignoring Bono’s interesting protests, Edge snatched the paper from his hands and ripped it in two, crumpling up the halves and stuffing it in his pockets for later disposal.
Being besotted was not something that suited Adam. He hadn’t fallen in love with a woman in years. Probably since Naomi, he thought dryly. He hadn’t been able to get over his almost-fiancée in the early 90’s.
Now this woman had walked onto the scene and Adam was finding himself falling, hard. He didn’t think he’d be able to hit the ground until he snagged Kelly alone. Fantasies of her attacked Adam at once. Her eyes haunted him during breakfast- eyes that spelled out blackness and danger and mystery. Her body would twist and bend under any man’s will, but never break. She was a creature past the breaking point.
All through the airplane ride, Adam thought about Kels. Who was she and where did she come from? Why did she choose that one moment in the pub to attack Bono, and why did she want that in the first place? Bono had spilled all secrets about his family life, his sex life, and his touring life in one interview. It was one embarrassing thing for a well-to-do rock star.
If Adam could just get himself to the offices of the Irish newspaper and ask for a staffer named Kelly Laughter, he would find her again real soon. But how was Adam supposed to do that? He only got time in Dublin when the tour had a break, and he couldn’t wait that long. Adam needed Kelly now.
Interviewer- “Are you faithful to your wife- Ali?”
Bono- “Well, of course. But I’m not kidding here, I would take you home in a heartbeat.”
Remembering his words at once, Bono wanted to bury his head in the sand and hide away. What had he been thinking? He wouldn’t have taken that woman home with him. He would never think of cheating on Ali.
In a few days it was all over the news. Everywhere Bono went he was plagued by reminders- something as simple as turning on the TV or walking by a newsstand became a sinister task. It wasn’t as if Bono never saw his face in the news- he’d had plenty of years to get used to that sight- but now, with this interview published, it was murder. Every other interview he had those days was bound to mention the former, and he would get questions such as “Were you really going to cheat on Ali that night?” Bono made it clear to the press that he was horribly drunk that night- it can happen in Irish pubs- and hadn’t known the woman was a journalist. After a few weeks the media had moved on to covering more important events, which suited Bono just fine. Though the interview was never a topic too far from anyone’s minds, especially those involving U2. But there was no problem with explaining the truth to those who would listen.
No, the real problem was explaining the night out to Bono’s wife.
Ali stood with one hand wrapped tight around the top of the chair. “Don’t try to leave. We need to have a serious discussion.” The two escaped to another room. Bono uneasily shifted his weight, wondering if he should sit down or not. He decided to let Ali have her way and only take a seat if she did.
The couple talked it out. Bono’s explaining didn’t take long. He stressed on what he had told every interviewer and apologized for getting out of hand. Ali just looked at him. He was sure she would be clucking her tongue and scolding him if he were a child.
Finally her hands moved to brush aside her black tresses. “I’m not angry. I couldn’t give a damn about what you told that journalist. I know you didn’t mean most of it. It’s just the fact that she was a journalist in the first place. Being drunk is not an excuse, Bono, you should have known better.”
Bono stared at his wife. How could he have known Kels was a journalist? “You’d have understood it if you were there,” he said. “Not only would you have stopped me-“
“That I would,” Ali said smoothly.
“-but you would have seen the woman yourself. I’m telling you, she looked nothing like a journalist. She looked like a prostitute, for God’s sake. She said nothing, didn’t introduce herself to me, just started talking, and she ordered enough drinks for both of us to drown in.”
“Ah, here we go, blame it on the interviewer,” Ali sighed. “I’m almost afraid to let you out of the house now! Who knows what other ‘prostitutes’ you might meet?”
Bono stayed still, not sure what the next move he should make would be. His mistake would be hardly forgiven tonight. This wasn’t what he had come to Dublin for anyway. He just wanted to get back to the tour.
“I’m not here to have a fight with you, Ali,” Bono said. “Again, I’m so sorry I screwed everything up. You’re right, I should have been more cautious.”
Ali watched her husband as he played with his fingers. They’d been together for too long to be ripped apart by a stupid falling-out. Though Bono had never been interviewed like this before, it was insignificant compared to what could have been. Besides, Ali had spent 18 years in love with the man. It was hard to drop out of love now.
“How is Bob?” Ali asked, changing the subject. She hoped Bono knew he was somewhat forgiven.
Bono’s response was more enthusiastic than his discussion with Edge on the tour plane had been. He updated Ali on the facts- his father was feeling better, and hopefully the hospital admission would last a short while. Ali listened attentively, reacting in a pleased way to Bono’s words. It was hard to tell if she was still angry at him.
The topic of conversation having moved off Bono’s reason for coming to Dublin tonight, the man asked, “Are you sure you forgive me, Ali?”
Ali herself was tickled with these words, if a little exasperated. “Of course I forgive you,” she said. “There’s no way we’d still be married if I couldn’t forgive a stupid mistake like this. Really,” she began, for Bono had opened his mouth to speak, “that’s all it was. A foolish mistake made by my foolish husband.” Her arms opened to hold his familiar warmth close to her.
“But if I’m a fool for you, that makes something,” Bono murmured into Ali’s skin. He gave a funny smile- the lyrics of the song were fuzzy in his mind, but the memories that had inspired it weren’t. He wanted Ali to hold him tighter. Their two hearts beat as one as her arms twined across Bono’s back, responding to the internal workings of his mind. The couple were definitely two pieces of a puzzle, Bono mused as Ali silenced him from any words with her lips.
He stayed over that night. How could he not? He was a man who had been parted from his wife, no matter the length of time. Ali wouldn’t allow a proper rejoining, which didn’t put Bono out too much- he was reluctant to admit it, but his body might not stand a chance against the games played in their shared bed.
The pilot of the Elevation Tour plane was informed that Bono would remain in Dublin for tonight, and take the world tomorrow. He didn’t mind staying. It was his only apprehension that the other band members might start taking advantage of their joint ownership of the plane. If four men gave very convincing reasons for taking a journey, how could the pilot deny them?
Anyway, that error alone should make you believe that this is all fiction!
On the plane headed for Stockholm, Edge found it necessary to lean across the aisle, prod Bono out of his musings, and ask “How are things going in Dublin?” Edge knew. Edge would always know.
Bono sighed, a sound that shook his soul, and explained. Things were not going well in Dublin. His father had fallen ill the night before, and it grew bad enough for him to be hospitalized. Bono had flown from Copenhagen to Ireland, secretly in the night, to see what was going on. He had told no one the business concerning his father, and was ready to unload it all on Edge.
Edge listened sympathetically as Bono told him about the trip to the hospital. His father had no outward symptoms, none that Bono could see, but it was heartbreaking to have to talk to him from above a bed. His father, Bono added with the hint of a chuckle in his voice, was not acting any worse the wear- well, if you took into account his temper these days, which was perpetually displeased. To Bono’s insistence, the illness only made up a fourth of explanation to Bob’s grumpy demeanor.
“I hope he gets well soon,” Bono said quietly, and peered down at the newspaper that still remained in his hands. “Edge, would you listen to this?” he followed up his remark with, and Edge was relieved but a smidgen reluctant to abandon the subject.
Bono read from the newspaper. “I’d like to say, you look quite enchanting. Ravishing even, if I may be so frank. Hell, what’s the need for frankness? You’re beautiful, woman. I’ll give you that.” He winced, not remembering those words but not liking them either.
“Go on?” Edge murmured. He was intrigued. Bono hadn’t read him certain parts of the interview, and Edge wanted to know what Bono hated the most about it.
“Oh, but I’ve got a wife at home. Ali, yes, that’s the bird. My Ali… We don’t get times off tours often, you know. We’re not going to be in Dublin for very long. Tonight’s my last chance to make some love with Ali.” Bono stared at Edge over the newspaper. “You don’t really need to hear what I said after that.”
Edge grimaced. “They’d publish that in a newspaper?”
Bono threw up his hands. “Anything to get readers, I suppose. God! If Ali finds out about this interview she’ll be angry as shit.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Edge murmured, thinking personally that Bono was doomed.
Bono snorted. “If you say so. Let’s just try and forget this for the moment, all right?”
“First you have to get rid of that newspaper,” Edge said. “Here, I’ll do it for you.” Ignoring Bono’s interesting protests, Edge snatched the paper from his hands and ripped it in two, crumpling up the halves and stuffing it in his pockets for later disposal.
Being besotted was not something that suited Adam. He hadn’t fallen in love with a woman in years. Probably since Naomi, he thought dryly. He hadn’t been able to get over his almost-fiancée in the early 90’s.
Now this woman had walked onto the scene and Adam was finding himself falling, hard. He didn’t think he’d be able to hit the ground until he snagged Kelly alone. Fantasies of her attacked Adam at once. Her eyes haunted him during breakfast- eyes that spelled out blackness and danger and mystery. Her body would twist and bend under any man’s will, but never break. She was a creature past the breaking point.
All through the airplane ride, Adam thought about Kels. Who was she and where did she come from? Why did she choose that one moment in the pub to attack Bono, and why did she want that in the first place? Bono had spilled all secrets about his family life, his sex life, and his touring life in one interview. It was one embarrassing thing for a well-to-do rock star.
If Adam could just get himself to the offices of the Irish newspaper and ask for a staffer named Kelly Laughter, he would find her again real soon. But how was Adam supposed to do that? He only got time in Dublin when the tour had a break, and he couldn’t wait that long. Adam needed Kelly now.
Interviewer- “Are you faithful to your wife- Ali?”
Bono- “Well, of course. But I’m not kidding here, I would take you home in a heartbeat.”
Remembering his words at once, Bono wanted to bury his head in the sand and hide away. What had he been thinking? He wouldn’t have taken that woman home with him. He would never think of cheating on Ali.
In a few days it was all over the news. Everywhere Bono went he was plagued by reminders- something as simple as turning on the TV or walking by a newsstand became a sinister task. It wasn’t as if Bono never saw his face in the news- he’d had plenty of years to get used to that sight- but now, with this interview published, it was murder. Every other interview he had those days was bound to mention the former, and he would get questions such as “Were you really going to cheat on Ali that night?” Bono made it clear to the press that he was horribly drunk that night- it can happen in Irish pubs- and hadn’t known the woman was a journalist. After a few weeks the media had moved on to covering more important events, which suited Bono just fine. Though the interview was never a topic too far from anyone’s minds, especially those involving U2. But there was no problem with explaining the truth to those who would listen.
No, the real problem was explaining the night out to Bono’s wife.
Ali stood with one hand wrapped tight around the top of the chair. “Don’t try to leave. We need to have a serious discussion.” The two escaped to another room. Bono uneasily shifted his weight, wondering if he should sit down or not. He decided to let Ali have her way and only take a seat if she did.
The couple talked it out. Bono’s explaining didn’t take long. He stressed on what he had told every interviewer and apologized for getting out of hand. Ali just looked at him. He was sure she would be clucking her tongue and scolding him if he were a child.
Finally her hands moved to brush aside her black tresses. “I’m not angry. I couldn’t give a damn about what you told that journalist. I know you didn’t mean most of it. It’s just the fact that she was a journalist in the first place. Being drunk is not an excuse, Bono, you should have known better.”
Bono stared at his wife. How could he have known Kels was a journalist? “You’d have understood it if you were there,” he said. “Not only would you have stopped me-“
“That I would,” Ali said smoothly.
“-but you would have seen the woman yourself. I’m telling you, she looked nothing like a journalist. She looked like a prostitute, for God’s sake. She said nothing, didn’t introduce herself to me, just started talking, and she ordered enough drinks for both of us to drown in.”
“Ah, here we go, blame it on the interviewer,” Ali sighed. “I’m almost afraid to let you out of the house now! Who knows what other ‘prostitutes’ you might meet?”
Bono stayed still, not sure what the next move he should make would be. His mistake would be hardly forgiven tonight. This wasn’t what he had come to Dublin for anyway. He just wanted to get back to the tour.
“I’m not here to have a fight with you, Ali,” Bono said. “Again, I’m so sorry I screwed everything up. You’re right, I should have been more cautious.”
Ali watched her husband as he played with his fingers. They’d been together for too long to be ripped apart by a stupid falling-out. Though Bono had never been interviewed like this before, it was insignificant compared to what could have been. Besides, Ali had spent 18 years in love with the man. It was hard to drop out of love now.
“How is Bob?” Ali asked, changing the subject. She hoped Bono knew he was somewhat forgiven.
Bono’s response was more enthusiastic than his discussion with Edge on the tour plane had been. He updated Ali on the facts- his father was feeling better, and hopefully the hospital admission would last a short while. Ali listened attentively, reacting in a pleased way to Bono’s words. It was hard to tell if she was still angry at him.
The topic of conversation having moved off Bono’s reason for coming to Dublin tonight, the man asked, “Are you sure you forgive me, Ali?”
Ali herself was tickled with these words, if a little exasperated. “Of course I forgive you,” she said. “There’s no way we’d still be married if I couldn’t forgive a stupid mistake like this. Really,” she began, for Bono had opened his mouth to speak, “that’s all it was. A foolish mistake made by my foolish husband.” Her arms opened to hold his familiar warmth close to her.
“But if I’m a fool for you, that makes something,” Bono murmured into Ali’s skin. He gave a funny smile- the lyrics of the song were fuzzy in his mind, but the memories that had inspired it weren’t. He wanted Ali to hold him tighter. Their two hearts beat as one as her arms twined across Bono’s back, responding to the internal workings of his mind. The couple were definitely two pieces of a puzzle, Bono mused as Ali silenced him from any words with her lips.
He stayed over that night. How could he not? He was a man who had been parted from his wife, no matter the length of time. Ali wouldn’t allow a proper rejoining, which didn’t put Bono out too much- he was reluctant to admit it, but his body might not stand a chance against the games played in their shared bed.
The pilot of the Elevation Tour plane was informed that Bono would remain in Dublin for tonight, and take the world tomorrow. He didn’t mind staying. It was his only apprehension that the other band members might start taking advantage of their joint ownership of the plane. If four men gave very convincing reasons for taking a journey, how could the pilot deny them?
