Jun 24, 2008

Chapter Eleven

“You slept over at his HOUSE?” Carol West practically shrieked into the phone.

Samantha held the receiver away from her ear. “Jesus, Mom, I didn’t sleep with him, don’t worry.”

“Are you pregnant?” Carol couldn’t believe her ears.

It was three days later, and Samantha was at work. It was early evening and most of the employees had already gone home; Samantha was working late yet again. This time, however, she was catching up on missed work. Exhausted, she had decided to take a break and call her mother, when she had made the mistake of mentioning the fact that she had stayed the night at Jon’s place. Sometimes, she knew, it was best not to share certain things with your mother, and this was apparently one of them.

“Did you not just hear a word I said? We didn’t sleep together. I had the guest room; he stayed on the couch.”

“Those tests can be faulty, you know. You better check again just to make sure.”

“I didn’t sleep with him!”

Carol persisted. “I hope you don’t expect the kid to call me ‘Grandma’. I’m too young to have grandchildren.”

“Don’t worry. No one’s calling you ‘Grandma’ for awhile.”

“Like, nine months?”

“Mom!”

“I can’t believe you stayed the night.”

Samantha sighed, exasperated. She loved her mother, but GOD she drove her crazy.

“Mother, I did not sleep with him! We did not have sex. We didn’t even sleep in the same room, let alone the same bed. He was downstairs. Now can we move on?”

Carol surrendered. “Well why didn’t you just say so?”

A loud slap resounded through the office, suggesting that Samantha had just encountered what James called a “hand-meet-forehead-moment.”

“Yes, Mom, the house is gorgeous. It’s this huge place on the beach in Westhampton – it’s amazing! Can you believe they refer to it as a ‘penthouse’…? It’s anything but a penthouse.”

“Sounds beautiful – I am so jealous. You have no idea how lucky you are to have been there. I’d give anything to do that!”

“Yeah, it was pretty cool…” Samantha grinned, remembering the evening.

“I mean, really, you’re one lucky little brat. I could personally name off about a dozen women who’d sell their right lungs to sleep over in Jon Bon Jovi’s house. He’s a celebrity!”

“Really? I had no idea.”

“You know what I mean.”

Samantha laughed. “I thought the same thing too, though. I sound like a broken record, but it’s just so surreal. I mean, I keep trying to see it from a ‘normal’ perspective – I’m dating a guy I’m interested in, and who’s interested in me back – but Lord…it’s Richie Sambora! I never saw this coming!”

“No one does, Sam. And you know I’m so happy for you – I haven’t seen you this happy since Shane.”

At the sound of that name, Samantha automatically tensed and pursed her lips together.

“I’m happier now than I was with him.”

“I meant in the beginning – not the end, of course.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just hope this doesn’t end the same way.”

Carol sensed her daughter’s discomfort, and felt badly for bringing up the subject. An awkward silence settled, and Samantha’s jaw twitched.

“It won’t, sweetheart. I won’t let it. If Mister Sambora so much as looks at another woman, I’ll make sure he never has children,” Carol spoke in her ‘mean’ voice.

Samantha let out a giggle. “Mom!”

“I’m serious – I’ll personally castrate him.”

“Oh my God…” Samantha laughed and felt herself relax.

Carol giggled. “All right, sweetie, I have to go make dinner. Don’t stay there too late, now.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

They hung up and Samantha sighed, looking around at her cluttered desk. There were papers to edit, numbers to call, appointments to arrange…she hated playing catch-up, but skipping out on work Monday had been worth it.

She had risen early that morning to call in at the office, and she could tell that Michael, her editor, was genuinely surprised that she was taking a “day off.”

“I didn’t know you knew the meaning of that word!” he had joked. “All right, well…enjoy it, I guess.”

Samantha felt guilty, but the second she walked downstairs and found Richie and Jon at the breakfast bar drinking coffee, dressed in jogging pants and sweatshirts, their hair tousled and, in Richie’s case, sticking up on one side, she forgot all about work. They were just so damn adorable, those two.

She joined them for coffee and breakfast, and then the three of them took a walk around the neighborhood – Richie and Samantha hand-in-hand – so Sam could see the other houses. Later, Jon and Richie had attended to some work while Samantha called Alex to tell her where she was; Alex had screamed so loudly Samantha was temporarily deaf in one ear the rest of the day. Late that afternoon, Richie drove Samantha back to the city, and kissed her again in front of her apartment.

“Well, darlin’, I’m driving back to my place tonight,” he had said. “Since I was at Jon’s all weekend, I need to go home this week.

“I know this is probably a bit late to be asking, but where exactly do you live?” Samantha had suddenly realized she didn’t know how far away he was normally.

“Red Bank, New Jehsey, baby. Just a hop, skip, and a jump from Jonny,” Richie winked. “And only an hour or so from here.”

Samantha was happy they weren’t as far apart as she feared, but it had only been three days and she already missed him. She missed his laugh and his voice, and she got butterflies every time she imagined the feel of his hand in hers. Now, however, she was stuck in the office, trying to get over that midweek “hump”, and she really didn’t have the motivation to do so.

An hour later, she locked up the office and went out into the biting cold. The weather had changed drastically since the beautiful weekend, and Samantha remembered the snow forecast she had seen early Sunday morning. The night sky was filled with heavy clouds, and Samantha prayed it wouldn’t start until she got home. Hurrying along, her thoughts traveled back to the person her mother had brought up – Shane.

Nearly ten years ago, Shane had come into her life in the form of a gorgeous, blonde, blue-eyed Frat boy whom she met at a college party. Samantha was barely twenty-one, halfway through her NYU studies, and Shane swept her off her feet. Charming her with his clever wit and sweet words, he knew all the right things to say and do to get her to agree to a date with him.

It wasn’t long before they fell in love, and they courted for over a year. They were positively crazy about each other – he was everything she wanted in a man; she was his princess. Samantha floated around as if on a cloud 24/7, and she knew instinctively that Shane was the one for her. So, when he proposed over a candlelit dinner a few months before they would both graduate, she didn’t hesitate to say yes.

They were married in the Catholic Church five months later, and honeymooned in Las Vegas for a week. Upon returning home, they both returned to their jobs and started married life, which proved nothing short of exhilarating and wonderful.

For about six months.

After a particularly difficult day at work, Samantha left early, looking forward to spending a relaxing evening with Shane. As she arrived at their apartment, she noticed his car was parked out front. Confused, since he shouldn’t have been home for another two hours, she entered the apartment and went straight to their bedroom to change her clothes…and walked right in on Shane in bed with another woman.

Samantha stared, Shane and the woman scrambled, and an evening of shouting, arguing, and crying ensued, ending in Samantha throwing her wedding ring in Shane’s face and walking out. She stayed with Alex that night, crying her eyes out, and by the end of the week, had moved out of the apartment with Shane and moved in with her mother, where she stayed for a month before finding another place. It turned out Shane had been seeing the other woman since before he and Samantha were married. The divorce was finalized a year later.

Twenty-three, divorced, angry and bitter, Samantha threw herself into her schooling. She was accepted to Columbia University on a Journalism scholarship, where she put her nose to the grindstone for thirty long months to obtain her master’s degree. Attending classes two days a week, interning for a small fashion magazine in Manhattan three days a week, and working in a coffee house on the weekends, Samantha was burned out by the time she graduated. She moved right on into the position at Dream, and ever since then, she had been a certifiable workaholic, so used to keeping herself busy that it became natural to her.

For the first year after their separation, Samantha would only see Shane on the streets or in the grocery store. After the divorce was finalized, however, he moved to Chicago for his job, and she hadn’t seen him since. And she was glad. She was a strong woman with firm beliefs, and infidelity had always been an issue of zero tolerance with her. She knew she shouldn’t hate Shane – hate breeds nothing but internal turmoil – but there were times she had trouble feeling anything more favorable toward him. That feeling had dimmed over the years, and she had ultimately come to inner peace with the situation, but it was still a part of her past she didn’t like to think about – an ugly, painful bruise in her life.

That was why Samantha had a problem with her mother referencing her “happiness” with Shane. In Samantha’s eyes, the type of happiness that ends in heartbreak and anger shouldn’t be compared to something purely and genuinely joyous. She may have been happy with Shane at first, but when she looked back on it, she shouldn’t have been. Not that truly happy anyway. Now that she was older and wiser, she saw it as more of an infatuation – a giddiness based on puppy love rather than true, deep l-o-v-e. The old saying, “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” was something Samantha found very difficult to believe. Sure, she knew the basic principle of it was authentic enough, but what if the “lost” part was bitter, painful, emotional, unfair, and cruel? She gained the love part in the beginning, and therefore had sown her heart seeds, or however that old poem went, but all she had gained in the end was a hostile relationship and hefty lawyer bills.

Samantha reached her apartment and was immediately greeted by two slobbering furballs. She performed her customary return greeting – hugs and treats – then changed into her pajamas, made a cup of hot tea, and settled onto the couch. Tommy and Gina jumped up and settled next to her, resting their heads on either side of her lap.

Samantha stroked their soft heads and watched them fall asleep, thinking. They looked so peaceful – dozing contentedly in the trusting reassurance that they were loved. She loved the way they looked whenever they saw her - their faces were always so happy, their tongues hanging out, their tails wagging, their ears perked up with excitement. If only people were that genuine in their feelings for one another, she thought, if only people just showed their true colors and stayed faithful to them, there would never be any problems with cheating and lies and secrets. Everything would be out there in the open – people would wear their emotions out on their sleeves. I love you, you love me. People would be content and confident in the fact that they were loved and respected, because there would be no reason to question it. And they’d never get hurt, because there wouldn’t be anything to hide. There would just be love. Pure, genuine love.

There were so many things that could be learned from dogs. People just had to look.

__________________

Three happy weeks passed for Samantha and Richie. They grew inseparable, spending every possible moment together, out in “secluded public”, and both at her place and his - Richie brought her over one Saturday and they spent the entire day in guitar lessons. He attempted to teach, she attempted to learn, but all that was achieved was hours of belly-laughter and jokes.

Richie, Samantha had decided, was just a big kid, and he made her laugh more than anyone she’d ever met. The serious, thoughtful demeanor he had displayed when they met had dissolved, and in its place was a natural, comfortable, easygoing and at times completely silly character that Samantha simply adored. He was always laughing, always joking, there was always a playful twinkle in his deep brown eyes. Any room he entered, Sam noticed, instantly brightened and its occupants seemed to shift out of whatever muck they had previously been in. Even Jon, whom she had spent considerable time with over the weeks and had come to realize she identified with as a “workaholic”, couldn’t help but lighten up and smile whenever Richie came bursting through the door carrying laughter on his lips and sunshine on his shoulders.

Samantha knew she was happier than she had been in years. It was a pure, impenetrable sort of happiness – the kind that resides deep in your heart and underlies everything you do. She was content in everyday life, and while she wasn’t giddy and didn’t feel like a schoolgirl, she was fine with that. She knew enough about giddiness to know that it might very well predict something shallow. She liked Richie. Really, really, really liked him. He had a way of bringing out the best in her, and she realized with a thrill that he could easily shed the shy outer layers she seemed to wear with the public. She found herself more open with him than she ever would have thought; James and Alex were really the only other people in her life with whom she was more open nowadays.

Richie simply adored her. He had never met anyone so likeable and genuine, so fun-loving and willing to have a good time. She didn’t just laugh at his jokes, she didn’t just call sit there and call him a doofus, she joked with him. She created a humorous banter with him – a playing field of “joke-offs” as Jon called them – feeding off of him just as much as he fed off of her. They laughed for hours at a time, always the center of attention in groups, and even Jon was impressed.

“Sammybora’s finally met his match!” he joked one day as they sat around with Tico and Dave. “This filly is fiery.”

Samantha loved having their approval – not only because it made her feel amazing to be on good terms with her favorite band – but because she knew how well they knew Richie, especially Jon. Jon knew him inside and out, and if he felt Samantha was his “match”…that spoke volumes.

One afternoon, Samantha and the guys were at Richie’s place, dining on sandwiches and Cokes, discussing “business.” In the coming weeks, the band would be preparing for their world tour to promote their latest album, Lost Highway. They’d kick off the US leg in Denver, and travel through thirty major cities after that. Samantha was excited to hear of “live surprises”, and Jon promised her it would keep everyone on their toes.

“We’ve got plenty of material to be flexible with,” he said, taking a pull from his Coke. “And I’m sick of reading all the complaints about ‘boring set lists’, so we’re going to spice things up a bit. Mind you, I’m not going to do everything new. We’re still doing the classics. We can’t just play a night of stuff off of the box set, or of B-sides and demos released under the table. We’d be booed off the stage if we did that. But there are some surprises.”

Samantha smiled. So Jon did read the fan club boards.

“I’m glad to hear you say that. I like the classics. I see nothing wrong with them.”

David slapped the table. “Thank you! I don’t either. If people don’t like the classics, don’t come to the shows, it’s as simple as that.”

Richie sat back in his chair. “Seriously. Maybe we should put a twist on the old stuff, you know, freak ‘em out. Tommy used to work on the docks…but not anymore cuz his life sucks.”

Everyone laughed. “Yeah,” Samantha said. “You’ll definitely keep people on their toes like that! I played my part and you played your game…but you make love a cryin’ shame.”

She laughed at her own joke, but she was the only one.

She trailed off, noticing the room was silent. She looked around the table – David and Tico looked up at her wide-eyed, and she saw Jon and Richie exchange raised eyebrows.

Embarrassed, Samantha quickly apologized. “Yeah, sorry, that was lame…”

“No it wasn’t,” Jon replied. Samantha looked up.

“Damn, girl, I didn’t know you could sing!” Richie was smiling at her, almost in awe. Samantha blinked.

“I…I can’t really…” she stammered. Richie interrupted her.

“Baby, that was good! Sing it again. Let’s hear that voice again.”

Samantha stared at them. All four were watching her eagerly. They were crazy. She loved to sing on her own, sure, but the dogs were her only audience. She didn’t warm up correctly, she didn’t perform for anyone, she didn’t even sing in a church choir.

She laughed.

“No, I can’t, I’ll just embarrass myself again. I was just kidding with that line…”

Tico spoke up in his deep growl of a voice. “Samantha, you won’t embarrass yourself. Sing something else for us, darlin’, you sounded great.”

Samantha saw she couldn’t get out of it, and figured she might as well get it over with. “Well…all right…your love is like bad medicine, bad medicine is all I need, whoa-oh-oh, shake it up, just like bad medicine…?”

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “How’s that?”

Jon swirled his Coke around in his glass, thinking. “Sing the national anthem. O Say Can You See. Just the first few lines.”

Samantha raised her eyebrows. “What? Are you serious?”

“I’ll start with you. Please?”

Samantha stared at him, and he started to sing softly. She swallowed and took a deep breath, then joined in on the low chords.

O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hailed, at the twilight’s last gleaming


Jon stopped, and Samantha watched him to see if she should continue. Jon looked down at the table, as if in thought. “Sing the rest, if you can.”

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight
O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night, that our flag was still there


She hesitated, but Richie nodded her on.

O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave


She drew the last line out perfectly, and the last chord hung in the air like a bell, beautiful and ringing, as an awed silence ensued. Samantha hated that silence, and instantly she figured she had ruined it and embarrassed herself. Why the hell did she let them talk her into that? They were professional musicians, she hadn’t sung for an audience in years. They performed on a stage in front of thousands of screaming fans, she sang in the shower. What was she thinking?

The sound of clapping broke into her thoughts. She looked up and saw all four members of Bon Jovi, applauding and smiling at her. She stared, dumbfounded.

“That was excellent!”

“Very well done!”

“Bravo!”

Samantha continued to stare, wondering what they had heard when she opened her mouth. Because they certainly didn’t hear what she did. Or perhaps they had simply gone deaf and hadn’t heard a thing, and were only being nice.

“Are you guys serious? I’m not that good.”

Richie whistled. “Damn, girl, you’re amazing!”

Jon leaned across the table. “Baby, you have yourself a pair of lungs. You sung the hell out of that.”

Samantha couldn’t help but smile. “Really?”

“Really!” was the unanimous reply.

“I’m serious,” Jon continued. “Have you ever sung in a choir or performed?”

“Well, I was in a choir for three years in middle school. But no one ever hears me sing now except my dogs.”

“Well, you passed a test many people who have been singing for years wouldn’t even have passed. The national anthem is one of the hardest songs to sing, because you have to start on the right key and octave in the beginning. It’s one of those songs that can be ruined entirely if you start off wrong. If you start it right, you’re good, and if you can hold the notes at the end, you’re gold. You did both.”

Samantha blushed. “Really? Wow, thanks…”

Richie beamed. “Man, the girl can sing, she can write…”

“She can challenge you to a pranking duel…” Dave piped in.

“…you’re a triple threat!” Richie grinned at her

Everyone laughed, and Samantha smiled shyly, both flattered and amused at the same time.

______________________

The following week, Samantha was working busily in her office when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver and answered automatically, hardly paying attention, trying to maintain focus on the paper she had been editing.

“Hey beautiful,” Richie’s voice made her lose focus.

“Hi!” she piped. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Really? I was thinking about you too. That’s why I called.”

Samantha could hear the wink in his voice.

“What are you up to?” she asked.

“Eh, nada mucho, just working at Jon’s casa.”

Samantha laughed. “You are so white.”

“Hey, my parents are Polish, not Spanish.”

“So what’re you working on?”

“Set lists, actually.”

“Ahh. Got anything to keep us on our toes, like Jon promised?”

“Definitely. We’ve got surprises everywhere.”

“Good.”

“Yep. In fact, that’s why I called you...”

Samantha raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What for?”

“Well, we were talking about the other day at my place when you sang the national anthem...”

“Yeah?”

“…and how you sung the hell out of it…”

“Uh-huh…?”

“And you know we both think you have a great voice. We all do. I mean, of course you could use a bit of training and fine-tuning, but you’ve got a really solid base, and that’s important.”

Samantha was entirely distracted from her paper now.

“Okay…so you called to tell me that?”

“Well, no…”

“What, then?”

“I actually have a question for you.”

Samantha waited. “Go on…?”

Richie hesitated, and then plunged right on.

“How would you like to sing on tour with us?”

2 comments:

Alina said...

Oh, that is such a great chance for her! I hope she'll say yes. Not only for her but also for Richie...

I loved this chapter, and I also love your way to write - your style is fabulous!!!

Sambora_Wanted said...

Oh my gosh, this chapter is crazy! You wouldn't even believe me if I told you! We think soooo much alike.... that's another story. Great chapter!