Jun 24, 2008

Chapter Ten

“Wow, Richie, I didn’t realize the Hamptons were so far from Manhattan.” Samantha stared out the window at the passing scenery. It was late afternoon, the sky clear and the winter sun shining brightly. Richie had arrived at Sam’s apartment about thirty minutes after she returned from driving James home; and after a brief reunion with the dogs, they were on their way. They had been on the road now for over an hour, and while the time had passed easily, Samantha had started feeling guilty about the distance.

Richie shrugged. “It’s Westhampton – no big thing. I’m used to the drive, honestly. Easthampton, though, that’s another story. That’s another two hours or so east. I wouldn’t be driving back and forth there, that’s for sure!” he laughed.

Samantha smiled, feeling a bit better. “So where is Jon’s place, exactly?”

“It’s called the Village of Westhampton Beach. It’s small, but very prestigious - lots of colonial homes and waterfront mansions.”

“Sounds amazing – I can’t wait to see it.”

“You will soon,” Richie smiled.

Twenty minutes later, they turned up a gravel driveway that wound its way through cool, shady trees. As they neared, the trees cleared and allowed a perfect view of a huge, stately white house, just small enough not to be considered a mansion.

Samantha stared. “I thought you said it was a penthouse?”

Richie chuckled. “We call it the penthouse,” he grinned as he pulled the car to a stop. “Compared to his other cribs, it is a penthouse.”

He helped her out of the car, and they made their way to the tall double French doors at the front of the house. Samantha craned her neck upward as they neared, taking in the full view. The front of the house was flat and uninterrupted, with large, square windows strategically placed every few feet, making the structure look larger than it really was. The paint looked fresh; it contrasted sharply with the dark gray roof and offset the greenery all around them. Behind the house, Samantha heard the dull sound of waves crashing on the beach. She inhaled deeply and smelled sea salt, mingled with the light, airy scent of cedar trees.

They reached the doors and Richie pushed one open, ushering her inside. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Samantha’s jaw dropped.

The whole place was decorated and furnished with a classic modern twist, providing a perfect contrast to the simple and subtle exterior. The foyer in which they were standing was cool and bright, lit overhead by a large sun light. The square windows Samantha saw on the outside were uniform inside as well: they stretched from ceiling to floor all along the perimeter of a circular-shaped room that ran from the foyer toward the back of the house.

The floor was covered in plush white carpet; the pristine walls gleamed. Potted palm trees stood in the pocket corners, adding to the general open air. Deep red armchairs sat in various spots around the room, while matching white half-moon sofas sat in front of an elaborate black paneled fireplace at the opposite end. A massive sleek home stereo system took precedence on the space left unoccupied by windows on the left wall. A magnificent spiraling black iron staircase stood off to the right, beckoning upstairs.

Samantha whistled under breath. “Ho…lee…shit…”

Jon emerged on her right and chuckled. “You approve?”

Samantha turned to him, her eyes wide. “It’s incredible, Jon. Really.”

Jon bowed his head. “Thank you. Can I take your coat, since your boyfriend seems to have neglected to do so?”

Richie instantly blushed. “She was looking around,” he mumbled sheepishly.

Jon hung her coat on a polished black metal rack, and then led them through the living room.

“I hope you’re hungry,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ve got enough food to feed an army.”

“He always does,” Richie whispered to Sam. “He always adds about six imaginary guests to the real total.”

“I heard that!”

Samantha giggled.

They followed the long living room around to the back and entered the dining room, a gorgeous oak-paneled room with a small crystal chandelier hanging above a glass-topped table. A blossoming bouquet of flowers sat in the center of the table, bedecked by tiny votive candles. There were twelve chairs, but only three places already set, each with a plate, gleaming silverware, and wineglass; a new bottle of Chardonnay sat in a bucket of ice at one end.

“Damn, Jon,” Richie whistled under his breath. “You planning to propose?”

“Hey, I just want the lady to have a proper meal and feel comfortable when she’s in my home. I’m very accommodating like that – it’s the Italiano in me,” Jon winked at Samantha.

Richie snorted. “Ah, but my company doesn’t merit elaborate settings?”

“Nah, you’re eating at the kids’ table,” Jon nodded toward the small table by the panoramic kitchen windows.

The guys laughed, and Samantha felt right at home.

“So, do you want to show Samantha around while I finish putting everything in the oven? I’ll find you when I’m done.”

Richie turned to Sam. “What do you say, baby? Do you want to see the place?”

“Absolutely,” she replied. As the two retreated from the dining room, she leaned over and whispered in Richie’s ear, “Is Jon making everything tonight? I didn’t know he cooked.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah, Jon’s a damn good cook. He’s dangerous to my cholesterol,” he patted his stomach and chuckled. “It’s the Italiano in him, after all.”

They crossed the dining room to the other side, and found themselves at the top of a short, wide set of steps leading into a sprawling room overlooking the ocean. Samantha inhaled sharply: the windows in this room were frameless, and moreover, didn’t have any separation. In fact, it wasn’t even right to say windows: the entire wall was a solid sheet of glass that separated her from the ocean outside. The deep blue water glistened in the late setting sun, and it was all Samantha could do not to run through the room and think she could jump right in.

Tearing her eyes from the breathtaking view, Sam looked around the room itself. It wasn’t heavily furnished, and only a handful of white pouffes dotted the open space. Aside from them, a long white reclining sofa sat at an angle in front of the endless window; a wire-framed glass coffee table that matched the dining table stood in front of it. The masterpiece of the room was a glorious gleaming black grand piano, which stood off to the left.

“Oh my God, this is absolutely gorgeous,” Samantha breathed.

“You should see it at night,” Richie replied. “If the sky is clear and the moon is out, it’s the best view in all of New York.”

A hallway led down to another part of the house on their left, and they followed it, passing a bathroom and laundry room, to a large, cozy study. The windows in here were tall and narrow, and curtained by dark red velvet; the carpeting a warm beige. A small leather couch sat in the corner, next to a magnificent bookcase that spread along an entire wall. An open briefcase lay on the desk, and papers were scattered all over the desktop. It was clearly Jon’s office, but aside from the desk, the room showed no signs of personality or life. Samantha vaguely wondered why there weren’t any photos of his family, at the very least. But then again, she remembered, this was just his “penthouse” office.

They returned to the front room and ascended the spiraling staircase, which, compliments of the sprawling skylight overhead, seemed to lead right into the heavens. It made for a grand entrance going both up and down, and Samantha couldn’t help but wonder what fun it would be to descend the steps, dressed up for a wedding or ball.

The top floor closely resembled the style of an Embassy Suites hotel; the rooms were positioned around the perimeter of the floor, while a black iron balustrade bordered the open center. There were six bedrooms, all large and open, although enclosed with a bit more privacy than the panoramic oceanfront room downstairs. The master bedroom suite had a massive four-poster bed draped with a white silk canopy, which made Samantha green with envy. She also marveled at the four large bathrooms: the master bathroom, she was sure, had a shower stall big enough to hold an NFL team after practice.

They returned downstairs just as Jon emerged from the marble kitchen.

He rubbed his hands together. “So, who’s hungry?”

Despite the romantic setting, dinner was a casual event. Jon had prepared a tantalizing chicken fettuccine alfredo for the main course, with a homemade tossed salad and vegetable soup as sides.

“This is delicious,” Samantha said earnestly. “Where did you learn to cook?”

Jon sprinkled Parmesan cheese on his salad. “My mom is the best cook in the world. This was her signature dish when I was little, and when I had kids she passed it on to me. I don’t make it nearly as good as she did, but I try.”

“Well, it’s amazing.”

“Thank you, darlin’.”

He turned to Richie. “So…” he began.

Richie looked up from his soup. “I love it too, man, it’s delicious.”

Jon laughed. “Thanks, Rich, but…when do you want to take a look at those papers?”

Richie drank deeply from his wine. “Ah, Sam’s here, Jon. Let’s do it some other time.”

“We gotta get it done sometime, Rich. The sooner the better.”

“I know, I know. But not while we have company.”

Samantha saw Jon’s jaw tighten. She knew that Jon was notorious for being a shrewd businessman, and for working too hard. Richie was more spontaneous and the less serious of the two, and while she knew from years of watching them as a fan that it sometimes got on Jon’s nerves, this was the first time she had witnessed it firsthand. It was almost funny – Richie was so easy-going, so carefree, eating and drinking as he pleased, oblivious to (or perhaps fully aware and choosing to ignore) the fact that Jon now ate with a slightly stiffer hand.

The rest of the meal was accompanied by easier conversation, and soon turned to tour talk.

“The fan club’s going to announce it next week,” Jon said. “I think the first tickets go on sale next month.”

“It’s gonna be a hell of a tour,” Richie leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “We’re kicking it off here, you know.”

Samantha’s first reaction was excitement, but she suddenly found herself wondering if she’d even want to go to a concert, given the new relationship she had with the two front men. It would feel awkward to be in the audience, amongst people whom, like her until recently, were simply fans. But then again, Dorothea and Tico and Dave’s wives sometimes came to shows, didn’t they? Maybe she could stand with them…part of the wife/girlfriend entourage. She found herself fantasizing briefly, then shook her head.

“That’s cool! I’ll have to make sure I’m first in line for the fan club,” Samantha winked.

Both guys laughed.

“Trust me, darlin’, you won’t have to stand in any lines.” Richie smiled at her.

After dinner, the three of them made their way back to the living room, which, true to Richie’s word, had a view to rival even that of the Empire State Building, though with a far different scenery. “Oh, wow,” Samantha breathed. “You were right, Richie. This beats a cityscape by a long shot.”

Jon nodded, pulling a pouffe over to face the windows. “It’s my favorite room of the house.”

Richie settled onto the couch, and Samantha sat next to him. A comfortable silence soon fell upon the three, each of them content with their own thoughts.

The moon hung low in the velvety sky, casting a pale blue light through the otherwise dark room. The ocean was dark and calm and silent, creating such a romantic scene that Samantha found herself holding her breath. She glanced over at Jon, who was absentmindedly purveying the scene as well, swirling his wineglass slowly with one hand, resting his chin in the other.

She chanced a glance in the opposite direction, at Richie. He caught her eye and smiled, a tender smile that she returned automatically. He switched his wineglass to the other hand, and slipped his fingers between hers. His warm touch made her heart surge, and she wrapped her fingers around his in response. They sat that way for a long time, gazing in silence at the ocean.

Finally Richie yawned and checked his watch. “All right, Sam, I think it’s time to take you home now.”

Jon looked up. “You’re going to drive all the way to the city and back again? At this hour?”

Samantha had been wondering the same thing. She glanced over at Richie, starting to feel guilty again.

“Richie, I feel terrible making you drive me all the way home,” Samantha started.

Richie waved her away. “It’s fine, baby, don’t worry about it.”

“No, really, I can get a hotel here and take the train home in the morning, it’s –”

“Absolutely not,” Jon and Richie both interjected at the same time. Jon shook his head. “Darlin’, as long as you’re with us, you’re not staying in a hotel. Richie could drive you home, but I’d feel a lot better if you both just stayed here for the night.”

Samantha wasn’t sure she heard him right. “Stay here?”

“Yeah, you can have the guest room upstairs. Do you have plans tomorrow?”

Samantha blinked. “Uh, well I have work, but I can probably just call in late.”

Jon was already standing. “Alright, done deal. I’ll take you to your room in a minute.”

Samantha tried not to show her surprise. She knew it would be a late evening, but she hadn’t expected to stay the night. With Richie. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that yet – but then again, it had been so long since she had a date that perhaps things had changed by now. Maybe it was normal for couples to sleep together after a few dates. But she wasn’t like that…and she and Richie certainly weren’t a “normal couple.” But what if Richie tried something? What if he had planned this all along? What if –

“Rich, you want the couch or Jesse’s room?”

Richie yawned. “The couch is fine, man. I’ll come with you to take Samantha to her room though.”

Samantha breathed a sigh of relief, and then laughed to herself. Never mind.

Jon led them up the stairs to one of the large rooms, which was decorated almost entirely in shades of purple. A small brick fireplace stood in the corner, and the curtains were open, offering a moonlit view of the shoreline. Jon switched on the light and crossed the room to the bathroom.

“You have soap and shampoo,” he emerged after a minute. “But I’ll get you some more towels. I’ll be right back.”

As he disappeared from the room, Richie gave Samantha a searching look. “Are you sure you’re okay with staying here for the night? Honestly, I can take you home if you aren’t, it’s no problem.”

Samantha fought the urge to laugh. Sweet irony. “No, it’s really okay. We’re both tired, and Jon’s right – it would be a lot smarter to just stay here,” she looked around the room. “Besides, this room is beautiful.”

Richie smiled. “Yeah, it is. I’m jealous.”

“What, you want the purple room?” Samantha teased.

Richie scrunched up his mouth. “Oh, you know I do.”

“You want this lacy lavender comforter?” Samantha sauntered over to the bed and examined the bedspread. “These fluffy pillows? They’re very manly.”

Richie burst out laughing. “You are a treat, you know that?”

Jon walked into the room with a fresh pair of towels and set them on the bed. “I also brought you some pajamas,” he chuckled, holding up a large sweatshirt and a pair of plaid flannel pants. “They’re not much, but I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your clothes.”

Samantha smiled. “Oh, that’s great, thank you!”

“Alright, you now have towels, soap, shampoo…” he looked around the room. “Can you think of anything else?”

“I don’t think so – you covered it all. Thanks Jon.”

Jon smiled. “No problem, baby. If you need anything, I’m right down the hall. And if you get the late-night munchies, you know where to find the fridge.”

Samantha laughed. “Good to know.”

“Rich, I put some blankets on the couch. You know where everything is.”

Richie nodded. “Thanks man.”

“Good night you two,” Jon left the room.

Richie turned to Samantha. “Alright baby, like Jon said, he’s right down the hall, and I’m right downstairs if you need me. You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Samantha smiled.

“Alright, then sweet dreams. Sleep well,” Richie kissed her on the cheek and left.

Samantha closed the door behind him and walked over to the window. After one last glance at the ocean view, she closed the curtains and changed into the pajamas Jon brought her. In the bathroom, she washed her face quickly and rinsed with some mouthwash she found under the sink.

She checked her cell phone for messages and set the alarm for seven o’clock so she’d have time to call the office. Then she folded up her clothes, switched off the light, and climbed into the bed.

She lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

Jon’s house. She was in Jon Bon Jovi’s house. She found herself examining the surreal parallel universe events of her life yet again. It was all so weird…and yet “weird” was beginning to be normal for her. Jon and Richie were both personal to her now – she didn’t stumble over her words or blubber like an idiot when she was around them. They weren’t just those famous rock stars she had lusted after for years, they were her friends.

Well, Jon was anyway. Richie was more than a friend. Much more. Samantha hadn’t felt this way about somebody in a long time; the feeling was new and almost strange.

And it felt damn good.

1 comment:

Alina said...

OH what a great chapter! I really love and enjoy reading your story, it is awesome =)