Chapter 1 - slippery When Wet

Dirty Little Secret

By Mikki Hames

Chapter one

 

 

It is commonly assumed that if you have found and achieved stardom, you have acquired nirvana.

Yet at the end of the red carpet, I found no wizard in Kansas to grant me wishes of all things necessary. Those of pride, certainty, love and purpose.

 

No not for me, the abundance of fame and fortune had me void of anything else. Celebrity status brought with its glamour, loneliness, emptiness and dejection.

 

My family would beg to differ, especially my father, in his eyes I had been given the world. I am a spoilt prodigy, born with a silver microphone in his hand, born to stardom and to die of it too.

 

My stardom may have alluded to a path illuminated with heavenly pleasures, but in reality it bought me straight to hell.

My name is Jon Bon Jovi, and I am a fallen rock star.

 

“Forget it Richie, I’m not doing the concert and you sure as hell aren’t taking over as goddamn lead singer of my band” I threw my cell phone across the room, straight into my flat screen TV.

Shattering both.

He should understand the reasons why I do not wanna hold a reunion concert. Bon Jovi was now a memory of my distant past. Hell we hadn’t played together for 7 years; I hadn’t seen any of the band in that time.  I had rarely seen anyone in fact except my family.

 

The incident happened in 2003 and had left me pretty much in hiding, life really sucked for me these days. I failed at loyalty, and sucked at life in principle. I needed to re build my own self-respect before I could start dealing with normal life again.

 

My days were spent wallowing in my own thoughts, drinking and eating and watching TV, it was a cycle I endured day after day, each day a blur and ending with me passing out. Those were my days; this is who I was now. I did not even recognise myself in the mirror anymore. I had gained weight, my eyes once a sparkling blue were now a dull grey, my hair once pimped to perfection was long and straggly unkempt, and I had grown a beard to hide my once boyish features. I bore no resemblance to the Jon Bon Jovi, the American rock idol that used to parade on stage with leaned toned body and a zest for life, looking at the reflection in the mirror I did not see any similarities between the two Jon’s.

 

There was no way, even if I had wanted to I was in good enough physical shape or mentally that I could perform again, Richie would just have to get over it.

 

I did miss singing though, right now, I had no idea what my voice would sound like? What the hell was I thinking even considering it, reminiscing only made my situation worse? Did I miss my past, or was I better off without it? Could I be led back to hell? I was living that just now anyway, or could I reappear in the spotlight, somehow rising above the debauchery.

 

In contemplating my uncertainty, I found myself drifting back to 1992…….

 

“Jon, can you believe it? We are headlining our own show, man?” “Yeah Richie we have climbed that first mountain, we are heading for the big time, tonight we are headlining the convention stadium, smiling at Richie we high fived each other. Richie was my main man, my lead guitarist, Richie Sambora.

 

Here we stood, waiting to run up those stairs to the stage and perform to 20,000 fans, most of um females of all ages, young, old, tough, good girls and the put out girls. Even the good girls would put happily put out if we asked though, that’s how great life was in Bon Jovi. The Good girls wanted to lose their virginity to one of us, mainly Richie and I, but the rest of the guys had their share too.

 

We were high on life and enjoying the rollercoaster that was being driven at breakneck speeds,

“it’s time man, are you ready?” “I’m ready Richie, let’s do this” my heart was pounding like a five year old on Christmas morning, but the adrenaline pumping through my body was an experience I wasn’t about to give up. It felt so good, we ran up those stairs and we rocked.