GraceRyan
Rock n' Roll Doggie FOB
Hi all. This is fairly weak. I'm trying to move along and provide some background - so bear with it please. Fiction based on stuff that sort of happened.
The following morning was cruel to the U2 camp. Bono slowly pulled on his exercise clothes. His head thundered as he trudged to the gym to meet with Dr. Doom. There wasn’t enough water to take away his carpet tongue. The first sight that greeted his heavy eyes, Gloria pounding away on the treadmill. She waved in their direction, and sped up the belt. Bono was convinced that she was part machine.
The rain was on and off all day. The crew erected the clear rain flowers behind Larry’s drum kit. Paul watched the radar on his phone and broke it to the boys that it looked like a wet show. It was miserable. Rain pounded off the stage. Adam was sure that he would never dry out from the show. Once the crowd realized that U2 would not be held down by rain, they reveled in the rain like it was wide scale baptism. Bono had blessed then and they would all be better for the night.
The cold rain left Bono’s back hurting the next day. After the band left Finland, they went straight to the studio in Edge’s house in France. No one got to bed until the following morning. His session with Dr. Doom was more painful than usual. Even the massage therapist could not untangle the tight knot. Not there was much time for rest. His feet barely touched the soil in France before he was back on a plane with Brian and Gloria to pick up Ali and the boys in Dublin, before heading to Moscow. He slept on his wife’s shoulder on the way. Having Ali there seemed to put his head back on right. Gloria retreated to the background allowing Ali to become Bono’s handler. That was always routine when the family joined the tour - whether it be Bono’s, Larry’s or Edge’s.
While Gloria went over the particulars of the Medvedev meeting, Bono and family toured Moscow. He wished he had put on his sneakers as his back was tight from singing in the rain at Helsinki. It was nice to spend time with the boys and Ali. He felt normal again. He laughed off his recent silliness as tour fatigue - to tour mirage. The people you spend a ridiculous amount of time with always seem much more attractive in the absence of your life partner. He was fine. Nothing to worry about. His back on the other hand sang a much more sober tune. By the time he slid into the backseat of the Lincoln Town car beside Gloria, he was in pain. She saw him wince as he straightened his back.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, just stiff,” his voice couldn’t mask his discomfort.
“Did you see your trainers today?” Gloria knew that he most likely did not.
“I’m supposed to see them tomorrow,” he straightened his black suit jacket.
“Mmmhmmm”, Gloria nodded.
“I am,” he said. He held up his hand. “I promise.”
This was the closest he’d been to Gloria since her birthday party. As she crossed her legs in the backseat, he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a glance when her skirt exposed some thigh. Her was a man after all. Nothing strange about that.
The world press had gathered to capture the rock star with a heart of gold and new President of Russia. While Bono and Medvedev strolled around his summer vacation home, Brian and Russian security followed close behind. Behind them, an army of international journalists. Gloria stayed behind. She made certain that the officially televised meeting would go smoothly. That the topics Bono wanted to impress were covered. She noticed him wince as they climbed out of the small golf cart Medvedev drove around his compound.
Gloria whipped out her phone. “Bono is in pain.” She sent the text to Paul. There was a show tomorrow and now was the time to be proactive.
Bono and Medvedev sat down for the televised chat over tea. Since the Russian media was there, they spoke through translators. Tea was offered to Brian and Gloria who opted for water.
“Is it bad?” Paul texted back.
“It’s really bothering him.” She sent back. She watched him shift in his seat attempting to get comfortable.
“Do you have his muscle relaxers?” Paul asked.
“I do. Should I give him one after we’re done here?”
“Yes, I’ll contact the doctors,” Paul texted.
Gloria mused at how different communication was now. During Zoo TV, she would have to wait until she saw Paul to have this conversation. During Elevation and later, she would have to excuse herself to call him on her rather large cell phone. Now with the small computer in her hand, she could do anything. The rest of the band had arrived in Moscow and if Bono was up for it, they would have a small soundcheck.
After tea, Bono and Medvedev thanked the media. Bono gave him the band’s new CD and (RED) iPod Nano. They excused themselves to a more private chat behind closed doors where Medvedev could brush Bono off without performance politeness. Gloria could not gauge how the closed door chat went by Bono’s face. He smiled and waved to the crowd that formed. He kissed hands and made women blush. Gingerly, he climbed into the back of black car waving as he was driven away.
Gloria handed him a bottle of water and a small pill. He raised his eyebrows. “Gloria, this is not the 80’s..or the 90’s.”
“It’s a muscle relaxant - a mild relaxant,” she said.
He made a face. “I hate taking these.”
“If you don’t you could do more damage. This will help loosen those tight muscles so they can repair,” she said. “Paul strongly suggested it.”
“Okay, Dr. Gloria,” he smiled at her. “Are you sure this isnt some kind of roofie so you can advantage of me?”
She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”
He blushed for a moment at the thought. With a large sip of the water, the little pill was down. He handed the water back to her. Secretly, he was glad the decision was made for him. His back was tight and causing him strain. He didn’t want to seem weak, but with someone else making the call, he was happy to get relief.
“How did the meeting go?” she asked.
“The one you didn’t see? Eh, I got the party line. While he is very impressed with the work we do, his country is his first priority. Everyone is in recession and he’ll see what he can do. He tried to play down any power he feels Russia has in the EU or with the big 8. I know better,” Bono leaned his head back. “It’s hard to get blood from a stone. But I think I have a few drops or at least seeds for the future.”
Gloria smiled. Bono could walk out of the gravest meeting with a silver lining. It was the charisma. And the tenacity.
“It was good. I took mental notes for the meeting Sarkozy. What worked, what didn’t work.” he closed his eyes.
“Well, Sarkozy is a different man. He’s more of a rock star wanna be,” Gloria tapped some notes into her phone.
“Yes, but he is very shrewd too,” Bono’s eyes felt heavy. The muscle relaxant was doing its job. The special reserve vodka Medevdev gave him didn’t hurt either. Bono neglected to tell Gloria about that before he took the little pill.
“You have about an hour. Take a quick nap. I think Paul is getting the doctor to make sure you are okay, then you have dinner with Ali and the kids,” she said.
“Okay,” he said without opening his eyes, As the car zipped along the streets, it lulled him further from consciousness. Voices grew fainter. His thoughts went from strategies with politicians to trying to remember what he had for breakfast.
The suite was quiet when Gloria came out from the guest room. She had been on the phone with Dennis while the party raged on in Bono’s suite. The damage had been done. Empty bottles of beer, wine and champagne littered counter tops. The televangelist waved his arms wildly while his lips moved mutely on the television. The new REM album played low from another room. Did they all leave for breakfast, she wondered.
Bono emerged from the master bedroom. “Sorry, I thought everyone left.”
“I was in the back room. But I’ll go and let you sleep,” she moved towards the door.
He moved with the agility of cat to her. “You don’t have to go. Did you have some champagne?”
She grinned. “Oh yes, I’ve had my share.”
“One more for the road?” he held up a newly uncorked bottle. “For me?”
Gloria could never turn down those blue eyes. “Okay....one.”
One glass led to two. Two led to a little dancing. Dancing led to closer dancing. Gloria could not help but glance down Bono’s opened shirt. He pressed himself against her. This had been slowly building for months. The flirting. The teasing. The unnecessary touches. She drove him crazy. Those lips parted as he moved closer. She had a sensual innocence about her. His hands moved slowly from her hips, across her back, to her neck. She craned her neck to look at him.
“You are beautiful, Glory,” his voice was thick with passion.
“No, you are the beautiful one,” she whispered. She was young, but felt like a woman in his hands. And she knew he was very married, but in this moment, it was easy to forget.
His fingers brushed her soft cheeks. He had been good for so long. He fought this urge since she first landed in Zooropa. Those full lips wanted him to kiss her. How could he resist?
“Glory, Glory,” he whispered against those soft lips. Her fingers found there way under his shirt and he shuddered. He hadn’t kissed another woman in a very long time. The champagne clouded his reality. Hungrily, he took her mouth. There was only going forward from now on. She melted against him. For years, she dreamed of this moment. He was everything that she wanted - passion, smart, soulful, compulsive, mischievous, sensual. He was not like anyone her age or anyone she ever met. “Stay with me,” he breathed in her ear. “Stay with me tonight.” He took her hand and led her in the direction of his master bedroom.
Bono opened his eyes. The car was still moving. His head was on Gloria’s shoulder. He glanced up at her. Her eyes were fixed on the passing landscapes. It’d been years since he thought of the first night they made love. It was a never-ending night. He was insatiable. Wrapped in bed sheets, they had watched the dark of the night turn to indigo then pink. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up.
“You were out cold,” she mused.
“Are you sure you didn’t give me roofies?” he glanced down his pants. “Am I still wearing my underwear?”
She laughed and nudged him. “No, those are mine,” she teased.
He chuckled a little uneasily. Those thoughts still swirled dangerously in his head.
“How do you feel?” she asked. “How’s the back?”
“Tender, but not as tight,” he said.
“I think Dr. Pouliot is at the hotel waiting for you,” she glanced down at her phone. “Paul wants you checked out before anything.”
He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. His head still was fuzzy. Maybe vodka and valium was not a wise idea. Within moments, the car pulled past throngs of fans to the underground entrance. Bono was glad. He felt a bit out of sorts. Ali and Paul stood in the doorway with concerned faces. He looked back at Gloria - taking in the differences between Gloria and Ali.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
“Yeah, just fuzzy. Maybe that vodka did me in,” he smiled weakly.
“What?” she widened her eyes. “When did you have vodka?” She gave him a playful shove. “I swear, if you end up at the hospital - I’ll kill you.”
He winked. “It’ll be our secret.”
Rolling her eyes, she opened the car door and crawled out. Right now, she was happy to release Bono to the care of Ali.
The following morning was cruel to the U2 camp. Bono slowly pulled on his exercise clothes. His head thundered as he trudged to the gym to meet with Dr. Doom. There wasn’t enough water to take away his carpet tongue. The first sight that greeted his heavy eyes, Gloria pounding away on the treadmill. She waved in their direction, and sped up the belt. Bono was convinced that she was part machine.
The rain was on and off all day. The crew erected the clear rain flowers behind Larry’s drum kit. Paul watched the radar on his phone and broke it to the boys that it looked like a wet show. It was miserable. Rain pounded off the stage. Adam was sure that he would never dry out from the show. Once the crowd realized that U2 would not be held down by rain, they reveled in the rain like it was wide scale baptism. Bono had blessed then and they would all be better for the night.
The cold rain left Bono’s back hurting the next day. After the band left Finland, they went straight to the studio in Edge’s house in France. No one got to bed until the following morning. His session with Dr. Doom was more painful than usual. Even the massage therapist could not untangle the tight knot. Not there was much time for rest. His feet barely touched the soil in France before he was back on a plane with Brian and Gloria to pick up Ali and the boys in Dublin, before heading to Moscow. He slept on his wife’s shoulder on the way. Having Ali there seemed to put his head back on right. Gloria retreated to the background allowing Ali to become Bono’s handler. That was always routine when the family joined the tour - whether it be Bono’s, Larry’s or Edge’s.
While Gloria went over the particulars of the Medvedev meeting, Bono and family toured Moscow. He wished he had put on his sneakers as his back was tight from singing in the rain at Helsinki. It was nice to spend time with the boys and Ali. He felt normal again. He laughed off his recent silliness as tour fatigue - to tour mirage. The people you spend a ridiculous amount of time with always seem much more attractive in the absence of your life partner. He was fine. Nothing to worry about. His back on the other hand sang a much more sober tune. By the time he slid into the backseat of the Lincoln Town car beside Gloria, he was in pain. She saw him wince as he straightened his back.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, just stiff,” his voice couldn’t mask his discomfort.
“Did you see your trainers today?” Gloria knew that he most likely did not.
“I’m supposed to see them tomorrow,” he straightened his black suit jacket.
“Mmmhmmm”, Gloria nodded.
“I am,” he said. He held up his hand. “I promise.”
This was the closest he’d been to Gloria since her birthday party. As she crossed her legs in the backseat, he couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a glance when her skirt exposed some thigh. Her was a man after all. Nothing strange about that.
The world press had gathered to capture the rock star with a heart of gold and new President of Russia. While Bono and Medvedev strolled around his summer vacation home, Brian and Russian security followed close behind. Behind them, an army of international journalists. Gloria stayed behind. She made certain that the officially televised meeting would go smoothly. That the topics Bono wanted to impress were covered. She noticed him wince as they climbed out of the small golf cart Medvedev drove around his compound.
Gloria whipped out her phone. “Bono is in pain.” She sent the text to Paul. There was a show tomorrow and now was the time to be proactive.
Bono and Medvedev sat down for the televised chat over tea. Since the Russian media was there, they spoke through translators. Tea was offered to Brian and Gloria who opted for water.
“Is it bad?” Paul texted back.
“It’s really bothering him.” She sent back. She watched him shift in his seat attempting to get comfortable.
“Do you have his muscle relaxers?” Paul asked.
“I do. Should I give him one after we’re done here?”
“Yes, I’ll contact the doctors,” Paul texted.
Gloria mused at how different communication was now. During Zoo TV, she would have to wait until she saw Paul to have this conversation. During Elevation and later, she would have to excuse herself to call him on her rather large cell phone. Now with the small computer in her hand, she could do anything. The rest of the band had arrived in Moscow and if Bono was up for it, they would have a small soundcheck.
After tea, Bono and Medvedev thanked the media. Bono gave him the band’s new CD and (RED) iPod Nano. They excused themselves to a more private chat behind closed doors where Medvedev could brush Bono off without performance politeness. Gloria could not gauge how the closed door chat went by Bono’s face. He smiled and waved to the crowd that formed. He kissed hands and made women blush. Gingerly, he climbed into the back of black car waving as he was driven away.
Gloria handed him a bottle of water and a small pill. He raised his eyebrows. “Gloria, this is not the 80’s..or the 90’s.”
“It’s a muscle relaxant - a mild relaxant,” she said.
He made a face. “I hate taking these.”
“If you don’t you could do more damage. This will help loosen those tight muscles so they can repair,” she said. “Paul strongly suggested it.”
“Okay, Dr. Gloria,” he smiled at her. “Are you sure this isnt some kind of roofie so you can advantage of me?”
She rolled her eyes. “You wish.”
He blushed for a moment at the thought. With a large sip of the water, the little pill was down. He handed the water back to her. Secretly, he was glad the decision was made for him. His back was tight and causing him strain. He didn’t want to seem weak, but with someone else making the call, he was happy to get relief.
“How did the meeting go?” she asked.
“The one you didn’t see? Eh, I got the party line. While he is very impressed with the work we do, his country is his first priority. Everyone is in recession and he’ll see what he can do. He tried to play down any power he feels Russia has in the EU or with the big 8. I know better,” Bono leaned his head back. “It’s hard to get blood from a stone. But I think I have a few drops or at least seeds for the future.”
Gloria smiled. Bono could walk out of the gravest meeting with a silver lining. It was the charisma. And the tenacity.
“It was good. I took mental notes for the meeting Sarkozy. What worked, what didn’t work.” he closed his eyes.
“Well, Sarkozy is a different man. He’s more of a rock star wanna be,” Gloria tapped some notes into her phone.
“Yes, but he is very shrewd too,” Bono’s eyes felt heavy. The muscle relaxant was doing its job. The special reserve vodka Medevdev gave him didn’t hurt either. Bono neglected to tell Gloria about that before he took the little pill.
“You have about an hour. Take a quick nap. I think Paul is getting the doctor to make sure you are okay, then you have dinner with Ali and the kids,” she said.
“Okay,” he said without opening his eyes, As the car zipped along the streets, it lulled him further from consciousness. Voices grew fainter. His thoughts went from strategies with politicians to trying to remember what he had for breakfast.
The suite was quiet when Gloria came out from the guest room. She had been on the phone with Dennis while the party raged on in Bono’s suite. The damage had been done. Empty bottles of beer, wine and champagne littered counter tops. The televangelist waved his arms wildly while his lips moved mutely on the television. The new REM album played low from another room. Did they all leave for breakfast, she wondered.
Bono emerged from the master bedroom. “Sorry, I thought everyone left.”
“I was in the back room. But I’ll go and let you sleep,” she moved towards the door.
He moved with the agility of cat to her. “You don’t have to go. Did you have some champagne?”
She grinned. “Oh yes, I’ve had my share.”
“One more for the road?” he held up a newly uncorked bottle. “For me?”
Gloria could never turn down those blue eyes. “Okay....one.”
One glass led to two. Two led to a little dancing. Dancing led to closer dancing. Gloria could not help but glance down Bono’s opened shirt. He pressed himself against her. This had been slowly building for months. The flirting. The teasing. The unnecessary touches. She drove him crazy. Those lips parted as he moved closer. She had a sensual innocence about her. His hands moved slowly from her hips, across her back, to her neck. She craned her neck to look at him.
“You are beautiful, Glory,” his voice was thick with passion.
“No, you are the beautiful one,” she whispered. She was young, but felt like a woman in his hands. And she knew he was very married, but in this moment, it was easy to forget.
His fingers brushed her soft cheeks. He had been good for so long. He fought this urge since she first landed in Zooropa. Those full lips wanted him to kiss her. How could he resist?
“Glory, Glory,” he whispered against those soft lips. Her fingers found there way under his shirt and he shuddered. He hadn’t kissed another woman in a very long time. The champagne clouded his reality. Hungrily, he took her mouth. There was only going forward from now on. She melted against him. For years, she dreamed of this moment. He was everything that she wanted - passion, smart, soulful, compulsive, mischievous, sensual. He was not like anyone her age or anyone she ever met. “Stay with me,” he breathed in her ear. “Stay with me tonight.” He took her hand and led her in the direction of his master bedroom.
Bono opened his eyes. The car was still moving. His head was on Gloria’s shoulder. He glanced up at her. Her eyes were fixed on the passing landscapes. It’d been years since he thought of the first night they made love. It was a never-ending night. He was insatiable. Wrapped in bed sheets, they had watched the dark of the night turn to indigo then pink. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up.
“You were out cold,” she mused.
“Are you sure you didn’t give me roofies?” he glanced down his pants. “Am I still wearing my underwear?”
She laughed and nudged him. “No, those are mine,” she teased.
He chuckled a little uneasily. Those thoughts still swirled dangerously in his head.
“How do you feel?” she asked. “How’s the back?”
“Tender, but not as tight,” he said.
“I think Dr. Pouliot is at the hotel waiting for you,” she glanced down at her phone. “Paul wants you checked out before anything.”
He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. His head still was fuzzy. Maybe vodka and valium was not a wise idea. Within moments, the car pulled past throngs of fans to the underground entrance. Bono was glad. He felt a bit out of sorts. Ali and Paul stood in the doorway with concerned faces. He looked back at Gloria - taking in the differences between Gloria and Ali.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
“Yeah, just fuzzy. Maybe that vodka did me in,” he smiled weakly.
“What?” she widened her eyes. “When did you have vodka?” She gave him a playful shove. “I swear, if you end up at the hospital - I’ll kill you.”
He winked. “It’ll be our secret.”
Rolling her eyes, she opened the car door and crawled out. Right now, she was happy to release Bono to the care of Ali.
