Chapter Eight

“Rich, man, what are you doing?” Jon leaned back in his chair and rubbed
his face wearily.

After the walk in the park, Samantha was the one who made the first move and invited Richie over for a movie and dinner at her place later that night. Slightly surprised, but pleased all the same, Richie accepted, promising her to be back at 7 o’clock. Afterward, he headed straight back to Jon’s place to finish the business they started earlier.

Unfortunately, business had yet to be taken care of, for Jon wasn’t happy about Richie’s new object of affection, nor that he had further plans with “the girl from Christmas Eve.” And Richie wasn’t happy with Jon for not being happy.

“You know this could only spell disaster. Why do you always do this?” Jon gave Richie a look that clearly expressed his exasperation.

“Do what?” Richie asked in a tone mirroring Jon’s expression.

“Fool around with the ladies. Find someone you think is worth it, spend every waking moment with her, dote on her, fall in love, and then just when you think everything is perfect, it’s over and she’s in someone else’s bed.”

Richie chuffed. “What are you talking about? First of all, I don’t fall in love that easily. And secondly, the whole ‘she’s-fucking-someone-else’ thing was in the ‘80s.”

“Maybe so – but you and I both know that the girls you’ve had in the last few years haven’t exactly been the cream of the crop. I’ve watched you and your relationships – if you can call them that – and I predicted every one of their turnouts. And I was right. Every one of those chicks was just taking advantage of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Richie - you’ve been flitting from girl to girl, trying to fill that void, and finding nothing except shallow women eager to get into your pants. They’ve just been comforters, Rich, something warm next to you at night, but cold and distant in the morning. And you’ve been too set on filling that void to notice that.”

Richie threw up his hands. “What void are you talking about Jon? I have no void.”

“Oh, really? I have one word for you, pal.”

“What?”

“Heather.”

Richie flushed pink and stared at Jon before looking away.

“Why’d you have to bring her up?” he asked quietly, his eyes darkening.

Jon saw the pain and sadness in his friend’s eyes, and instantly regretted his words. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.

“I’m sorry, Rich, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that, well, we both know what you two had, and what she turned out to be…and frankly, I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again. You don’t deserve that.”

“It’s been six years.” Richie said in a hard voice.

“True, but I’ve seen the effects it’s had on you. You’ve been blinded in the dating game, and no offense, but you seem to have a really bad habit of picking out all the wrong girls.”

Richie looked up. “So you’re saying Samantha is just another fling? That I’m just being shallow and impulsive and she’s not worth my time and energy?”

“No, not necessarily…”

“Well that sure as hell is how it sounds, Jon. How am I supposed to find the right girl if I don’t get to know her?”

“Do you think Samantha is the right girl?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any way of knowing that yet. All I know is that she’s different from the other girls I’ve dated the last few years, and even I recognize that. I feel good when I’m around her, Jon – and I don’t mean good as in a hard-on. There’s something about her that radiates to others, and makes you want to smile in spite of yourself. I haven’t felt that in a long, long time. And I’ll be damned if I let that feeling go and give up on her just because you see her as another fling.”

Jon gave him a long, hard look.

“If that’s the case – then you’re right, you should give her a chance. If she makes you feel genuinely good, then I’m glad. But Richie – I’m warning you – begging you – be careful. I can’t stand by and watch you get ripped to emotional shreds again.” He gave Richie a meaningful look. “Besides, we’ve got a nine-month world tour coming up, and I need you to be at your best.”

Richie laughed quietly. “Thanks,” he said. Rising, he ran his fingers through his thick brown hair and sighed. “I better get going though, or I’ll be late for dinner….and then I’ll be the one who’s out of chances.”

“Get outta here, then! We’ll finish up tomorrow.” Jon jokingly ushered Richie out of the room, and walked with him to the front door. Jake, Jon’s two-year-old son, stood in the foyer, happily occupied with Richie’s keys.

“What are you doing with those, kiddo?” Richie bent and gently pried his keys from the toddler’s death grip.

“Say ‘bye-bye’, Jakey,” Jon encouraged.

“Bye bye Jakey!” the toddler squealed, spreading his arms into the air.

“Bye squirt,” Richie tickled him. “See ya man,” he nodded at Jon as he opened the door and headed out to his car.

Jon watched his friend as he drove away, hoping that for once, this woman would be worth what he knew Richie would give her.

******

As Richie drove down the busy streets of New York, one word penetrated his every thought.

Heather.

The name had cut into Richie like a knife, wrenching his gut and twisting his heart in painful memory. He knew Jon hadn’t intended to be cruel, but using his ex-wife as an example of how Richie was acting hurt more than he’d imagined it would.

Richie sighed and fiddled with the volume knobs on his stereo system, surrounding himself with his favorite smooth, bluesy music to distract himself from the past memories that were forcing their way to his mind.

He and Heather had been married ten years. They married young – two happy-go-lucky twenty-somethings with the whole world at their fingertips. She was fresh out of college, full of ideas and knowledge; he was a rock star, the lead guitarist of a global headliner band with notions of invincibility.

She was everything he wanted in a woman: beautiful, smart, sexy, confident, independent. She stood by his side through thick and thin – through the band’s trials and troubles, when Richie’s mother passed away, and then his depression afterward, through almost everything thrown their way. She was content to stay at home and let him roam around the world with the band on tour, and she tagged along with him to awards shows and public appearances, photo shoots and album signings. She accepted his career and lifestyle, and seemed perfectly happy…until the miscarriage.

After six years of marriage, both Richie and Heather decided they wanted to start a family. They began trying to conceive, but complications – and Richie’s busy schedule – prevented any success. Finally, three years later, when they had very nearly given up, Heather became pregnant. The news came as a shock, and needless to say, both parents-to-be were thrilled. The euphoria was short-lived, however, when Heather miscarried the baby in her second trimester.

From then on, nothing was the same. Heather seemed to retreat into herself – becoming antisocial, distant, and cold. She was often silent and stone-faced, bitter and angry. While Richie thought she was struggling with guilt, feeling responsible for the loss, she soon proved him otherwise: she was convinced it was his fault. She took to openly blaming him, not only for the miscarriage, but for the complications and delayed conception as well. She claimed that he had always been “too busy” for her, and that he was “selfish and arrogant”, caring more about his music than starting a family. Richie insisted that wasn’t true, that his family came first before his career – and that that was a shared sentiment amongst his band mates as well. But Heather had made up her mind, and their marriage deteriorated steadily.

Six months later, shortly after their 10th anniversary, Heather filed for divorce. While Richie had strongly suspected it would come, he had hoped that their attempts at marriage counseling and couples’ therapy would have mended the bitter feelings that now permeated the relationship on both sides. He realized, however, in the months following the split, that things had permanently and irreversibly changed between them the very moment the news of the miscarriage had come, and that virtually nothing could have saved the marriage.

While saddened and heartbroken, Richie did his best to maintain what he could of his old lifestyle. He kept himself busy with his music, devoting his time and energy to the band and all of its endeavors. He didn’t become bitter, he didn’t fall into a clinical depression, nor did he turn to drugs and alcohol. But he did remain subdued and slightly withdrawn for several months, trying to cope with the love and feelings he still had for Heather. And eventually, with time, he was able to douse the flame in his heart reserved for her, and allow himself to move on.

It had been six years now, and Heather had become hardly more than a memory – Richie hadn’t seen or spoken to her in five solid years. About four years ago, Richie had realized he was finally no longer in love with her, and he had decided to venture into the dating world once again.

Here, he hated to admit, was where Jon was right…for the most part. For the first two years or so, the girls Richie dated were shallow and insecure, latching onto him mostly for his money, but also for the frequent rolls in the sack. Dishearteningly remembering his wild ‘80’s days before Heather, Richie slowed his roll, taking dating more seriously and looking for more meaningful relationships than mere one-night stands. He had a handful of semi-serious relationships, each lasting a few months, and he seemed to be content at first, but they all ended for one reason or another – usually because Richie was dissatisfied. He realized he was looking for something, although he wasn’t sure what exactly, and it took him a little while in each relationship to figure out that that something wasn’t there.

At times he wondered if he’d ever find that special someone else; it wasn’t that he was flighty, it was that his relationship with Heather had taught him to be more careful, and thus, he settled for nothing less than perfection. While that meant a lot of searching, and a lot of time, he was passionate about finding that certain someone he knew was out there. Richie had his faults, like everyone else, but shallow love was not one of them. He had a good, pure heart, and he loved deeply – he cared for his friends and family immensely, and deliberately went out of his way to do anything for them.

And that was where Jon was wrong – Samantha was not just another fling, and Richie never saw her as such. He still didn’t understand what he had felt, or why, when they locked eyes in the arena on Christmas Eve, but he knew it meant something more significant than a random gaze between a fan and musician. He had felt something stir in his heart, and nowadays, any genuine feeling in his heart was something not to be ignored.

Richie pulled up to Samantha’s apartment building and searched for a parking space before swinging the car into a slot near the rear of the building. Head still full of thoughts of Heather, he entered the building and rode the elevator to her floor. Just outside her door, he knocked and took a deep breath, pushing Heather from his mind and willing himself to focus entirely on Samantha.

He didn’t find it that hard to, however, when she opened the door.

*****

Samantha greeted him with a smile, welcoming him inside and taking his coat. As he stepped in, Tommy and Gina attacked him with licks and happy whines, ecstatic to have company over other than Alex or James.

Samantha noticed Richie’s eyes on her right away, and frankly, she was pleased. She had dressed appropriately for the occasion, but did so with an edge that she knew would keep him visually occupied. Her deep red V-neck brought out her golden eyes dramatically, and her brown hair was swept back in a ponytail, giving her an innocent look. And to juxtapose that impression, she had donned snug-fitting, low-rise faded jeans that hugged her hips teasingly low.

She had spent the last few hours preparing what she was best at – roasted lemon herb chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and sautéed spinach, topped off with a burgundy Merlot. The chicken sat on the kitchen counter, smelling richly of herbs and spice, and once Tommy and Gina finished assaulting Richie with their noses and tongues, they bounded straight back to the kitchen to keep their big brown eyes on it.

“Are you hungry?” Samantha asked, a smile playing on her lips as she watched Richie’s expression.

“Starved.” Richie inhaled deeply. “Something smells amazing.”

“Thanks – I hope you like chicken and mashed potatoes. They should be done soon, and then we can sit down to eat.”

“That sounds delicious – you made it all?”

Samantha nodded. “It’s no big deal – I like to cook. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable – I just need to check the potatoes.” As she retreated to the kitchen, she felt Richie’s eyes on her backside, and she smiled to herself.

Richie wandered into the living room, noticing the warm, comfortable way she had decorated it. A large plush beige sofa sat facing away from him, and a smaller matching loveseat sat against the right wall. The modest coffee table stood between the furniture, magazines scattered all over the top. A wide screen television sat in the middle of a finished cedar entertainment center, which took up the better part of the far wall in the room. On its shelves were numerous framed photographs, mostly of Samantha with another man who looked uncannily like her, as well as other people he assumed were family. Richie also spotted a large photograph with Samantha and Alex, and a couple of fun photos with the dogs. Trinkets and various objects of sentimental value adorned the rest of the space; as well as scented candles and the occasional DVD cover.

To the left of the entertainment center, the wall turned down a hallway, which Richie assumed ended in her bedroom and bathroom. Against the left wall stood a large CD rack, and on closer look, Richie noticed the top two shelves were devoted entirely to Bon Jovi. He chuckled, remembering that she was a fan after all, and as he scanned the titles, he saw she was certainly a dedicated one. She had every studio album – at least one of each! – and every one of their singles, as well as each members’ solo albums. In addition, she had countless B-sides, demos, and rare tracks – some of which he himself had forgotten about. Richie felt flattered, but slightly odd, looking at all of the albums of which he was a major part, and felt even more so when his eyes fell on a stray cover, picturing the band – including himself – looking back up at him.

Richie whistled under his breath just as Samantha entered the room.

“The potatoes are done – you ready to eat?” she asked good-naturedly.

Richie turned around and smiled. “Absolutely.”

He joined her in the dining room and noticed the vase of red roses in the middle of the table. Samantha gestured toward them and smiled coyly. “Remember these?”

Richie laughed. “I might.”

Samantha disappeared into the kitchen, and a moment later emerged with two plates and two sets of silverware. As she leaned over to set the table, she felt Richie’s eyes on the V of her top, which she knew without looking was revealing. She liked having his attention; only a month ago she would have died if he looked at her this way. Although slightly nervous at having him in her home, she was surprised at how calm she was overall, and with a wave of warmth, realized how comfortable she was with him already. It was becoming less and less surreal to her that she was seeing him – he was so down-to-earth and friendly, and went about this dating scene so sweetly – no arrogance, no tight schedule, no constant reminders to her that he was an international rock star, and thus had a thousand women fawning over him. No, he was sweet and kind and normal. And she loved that.

“Do you need any help?” Richie broke into her thoughts. “I feel bad just standing here.”

“Sure,” Samantha brushed a wisp of stray hair from her eyes. “The wine is in the kitchen if you want to pour it. The glasses are in the cupboard above the sink.”

As Richie went to get the glasses, Samantha watched him out of the corner of her eye. Damn he looks good, she thought shamelessly. Very good indeed.

Five minutes later, they sat down to eat. Richie tried the chicken, and with mouth full, closed his eyes and nodded his approval.

“This is absolutely amazing, Samantha,” he said, swallowing. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a home-cooked meal?”

“Ten years?”

Richie laughed. “Almost!”

Samantha giggled. “I’m glad you like it.”

Richie looked at her. “Thank you for going to the trouble to do this. It’s excellent.”

“You are very welcome – it’s the least I could do in response to the last date,” she said, eyes twinkling.

They eased into a comfortable conversation, laughing easily with each other, as the food slowly disappeared from their plates. When the last of the wine had drained from their glasses, Samantha rose to clear the table, and Richie helped her wash the dishes in the kitchen.

“So,” Samantha said, drying her hands on a towel after the last utensil had been placed in the dishwasher. “Which movie are you up for?”

Richie shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t care. I’m usually a fan of comedies, but you pick. I don’t know what you have.”

“I have comedies, I can tell you that much. Let’s have a look – follow me,” she led him into the living room and pulled open a drawer in the entertainment center. Flipping through the DVDs, she read various titles aloud.

They settled on Bruce Almighty – per Richie’s choice for a fun, light-hearted flick, and as Samantha popped the DVD into the player, Richie settled back on the plush sofa, already comfortable.

As Samantha sat down next to him, she caught the smell of his cologne – a clean, warm scent – and she breathed in deeply. Tommy and Gina wandered into the living room and plopped down at their feet, curling up on the warm rug, as the movie started.

For the next two hours, the pair laughed and joked, enjoying each other’s casual company. Richie found Samantha’s laugh irresistibly contagious, and often pointed out the funnier parts of the movie simply to hear her giggle. Samantha, once again, realized how comfortable she was becoming with him, and, carefully watching his body language, was assured that he indeed felt the same way.

Halfway through the movie, Richie slipped an arm around her nonchalantly, and Samantha leaned into him as naturally as if they had been dating for years. It was perfect until Tommy, used to being the man of the house, shot Richie a look of jealousy, and promptly jumped on the couch, wiggling his way onto their laps and causing a slight commotion.

When the movie was over, it was late, and both Richie and Samantha were sleepy. They sat around and talked a bit before Richie finally stood up.

“This was wonderful,” he said sincerely. “And I had a wonderful time. But I should get going…”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand,” Samantha replied, stifling a yawn. “But I had a great time too.”

“Thank you for dinner – you cook a mean chicken,” Richie winked at her.

Samantha smiled and blushed. “Thank you – and you’re welcome.”

They made their way over to the door, and Samantha picked up Richie’s coat.

“Drive safely now, mister.”

Richie nodded solemnly.

“Absolutely. And I’ll pray to my plastic dashboard Jesus before I leave.”

“Are you going home tonight? Or back to Jon’s place?”

“Probably Jon’s. It’s closer than my place, and I’m tired. He’s used to me crashing there anyway.” He slipped his coat on. “Don’t worry, I’ll call you tomorrow so you know I made it.” He winked.

I’ll call you tomorrow. It wasn’t a question, nor was it a ‘maybe.’ It didn’t carry uncertainties, and it didn’t suggest. It was an I’ll call you tomorrow. A statement. A fact. A promise.

“Good. I’d like that.”

“By the way, you have a great place here. I really like it.”

“Well thank you – I rather like it myself.”

Richie nodded. “It’s very you.”

“Very me.” Samantha repeated the statement, smiling. “And how do you know who ‘you’ is, Mister Sambora?”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he suppressed a smile.

“Well,” he said solemnly. “ ‘You’ is a beautiful – kind – hospitable woman. A woman who isn’t afraid to show men her true colors…a woman who has already proven to me that she’s confident, strong, and independent. A woman who obviously has passion for the people and things she loves – and is very clearly surrounded by people who love her too,” he gestured toward the pictures on the entertainment center.

Samantha didn’t know what to say.

“And furthermore,” Richie continued. “ ‘You’ is a someone I most definitely like spending time with…and most definitely want to continue spending time with. That is – if ‘you’ wants to continue spending time with me.”

Samantha’s lips were slightly parted and she was speechless. “Yes,” she finally said in a low voice. “ ‘You’ definitely wants to continue spending time with you.”

Richie smiled gently. Samantha looked directly into his eyes, and with a jolt of her heart, saw them burn with the same desire and longing as they did on Christmas Eve. Only this time, up close, they had more depth, more meaning, more urgency – and she saw now that it was something that stemmed possibly from his past: a longing for honesty and truth, for stability in others in his life…the desperate desire to love and be truly loved in return.

Richie leaned forward slightly, and Sam realized what was happening a split second before it happened. Her heart began to race and blood rushed in her ears, and as his lips met hers softly, she felt butterflies in her stomach and she slowly closed her eyes. The kiss was gentle – slow, sweet, and polite – but filled with sincerity, and it sent shivers down Samantha’s spine.

“Good night, you.” Richie said softly, and as he turned to leave, Samantha forced herself to speak.

“Good night,” she whispered, watching him walk down the hallway. As the elevator dinged to the floor and Richie stepped in, Sam continued to watch until the doors closed and he was out of sight. Closing her own door, she leaned against it, willing her heart to slow down.

And later, when she crawled into bed and fell asleep, Samantha felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the extra blankets on her bed.