Chapter Twenty-Six

Richie snapped the clasps on his guitar case shut and set it down with the rest of the equipment. He caught a glance of a black case labeled “SAMANTHA” and sighed, knowing the microphone inside wouldn’t be used tonight.

It felt like ages since he had lost his temper and walked out on her, but it had only been a week. It was now the afternoon before the first of their three nights at Madison Square Garden, and everyone was backstage getting things ready, just as they had done thousands of times at thousands of venues before. But this time was different. Jon’s news that Samantha quit the duet had startled and even angered Richie, but now, he found he couldn’t really blame her. The duet would have been disastrous with their tensions mounting, and Richie knew she wouldn’t perform well. Still, his heart panged to know she wouldn’t be up there next to him, harmonizing with Jon in the beautiful, sweet way that only she could.

He had been furious with Jon for bursting in uninvited and accusing him of screwing things up – the man sometimes tried so hard to fix things that he didn’t see what was really broken in the first place – but after Jon left and Richie sobered up, he did some thinking.

He missed her. Her behavior had pissed him off, her lack of emotion had hurt him, and her constant excuses had made him crazy, but God, he missed her so much. He missed just being with her – seeing her gorgeous smile or hearing her melodic laugh, looking into her hazel eyes or joking around with her in that easy, comfortable way they had. She had stolen his heart with her natural, easygoing personality and simple beauty, and despite the troubles she was obviously dealing with, he still placed her on a pedestal among all the women he’d ever met. Part of him was dying to swallow his pride and crawl back to her, just to have her in his arms again, but his heart knew that he could never be happy unless she truly loved him back…and showed it. He couldn’t take the heartbreak of another Heather, and he refused to settle for what might be fine on the surface, but horribly wrong beneath. He needed to have the patience and willpower to see everything through and make sure it was sincere before he allowed it to go any further.

They both deserved that much.

Richie stood among the black equipment cases, rubbing his face wearily. The sound of a metal door slamming shut made him jump, and he turned around to find Jon. The singer had his serious face on and was in full pre-concert character; he had a clipboard in hand and pen in mouth.

“Rich, sound check in five. Are you coming or do we need to hire a last-minute replacement?”

Richie forced a laugh. “Just getting my guitar, man. Where are Tic and Dave?”

“Tic’s out onstage with Obie and Dave’s somewhere nearby; I heard him singing showtunes through the walls.” Jon looked cross-eyed. “He’s giddy like a fucking schoolgirl, and if he tells me it’s raining men one more time, I’m gonna shoot him. Four minutes,” he pointed at Richie meaningfully and left. Richie had to stifle a laugh that time. Jon was so uptight and focused before a show.

Richie knew he should take a leaf out of his book, though: he had to focus on the night without Samantha. He had duties and responsibilities to himself and his band to make the show go on without a hitch, and he couldn’t let her mess him up. He picked up his beloved Stratocaster and headed out to sound check onstage.

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Samantha stared blankly at the TV screen, completely unaware of what she was watching. Her mind was far away, filled with thoughts about what was going on within the walls of Madison Square Garden concert arena. It was seven-thirty, and she knew that very soon, Bon Jovi would take the stage in response to screams and whistles: the lights would dim, the audience would roar, and the long-awaited opening night at MSG would commence. Jon would sing into the mic sitting atop his favorite white stand, and Richie would work that talkbox so seductively that even women who were self-proclaimed “Jon girls” would sweat. The band would work through a dozen songs, then the opening chords to 'Whole Lotta Leaving' would echo through the arena, followed by Jon’s voice…and Jon’s voice only.

Samantha could hardly bear it. She was filled with a thousand emotions and mixed feelings about the night, but at the same time, she was almost graciously numb. She was tired of feeling guilty and remorseful and angry and upset and heartbroken…those emotions had all been worn out by now. All that seemed left was a brain tired of the beating the heart had given it.

Samantha sluggishly focused on the TV, which featured the evening news, then disgustedly turned it off. The last thing she needed was to hear even more depressing stories.

She sat there on the couch and moped, too absent-minded to even think of doing something, and too lethargic to get up and do it. She finally contemplated crawling into bed for the rest of the evening, and was just about to work on getting up to do that when there was a knock at her door.

She froze. Tommy and Gina sprang to action and barked wildly, jarring Samantha more to her senses. Who was that? She didn’t remember planning for company tonight. After a brief hesitation she stood up and strode over to the door, turned the handle quickly and opened it up to reveal who was standing on the threshold. It took half a second to register the blue eyes and blonde hair, and under any other circumstances, Samantha would have slammed the door in his face.

Instead, she began to laugh.

“Of course you’re here,” she said, in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “At this point, nothing surprises me anymore.”

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Richie looked out over the thousands of screaming fans who had come to see Bon Jovi tonight. They were a good crowd – they had cheered in all the right places and given exactly the right responses that put Jon in a fantastic mood. He was strutting all over the stage, working his charm and magic, and Richie did his best to smile, strum, and seduce as well. There was a pair of beautiful women in front row on his side who kept watching him during the show, and he amused himself with giving them attention back: tipping his Fedora hat, smiling, and even blowing them a kiss at one point. They were fun, and they, combined with the natural stress-reliever of playing to a sold-out crowd kept his mind off of his troubles for a few hours, but it was short-lived. He had to clench his jaw and force himself to focus entirely on the mechanics of the instrumentals during 'Whole Lotta Leaving', and during Samantha’s part, he kept his face so painfully passive that he caught Jon giving him meaningful looks whenever he passed him onstage.

After the show, he kept to himself and changed out of his sweaty clothes silently, wanting again to climb into bed with a six-pack. It seemed the harder he tried to think of something other than Samantha, the more she permeated his every thought.

It was ridiculous how much of a hold she had on him.

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“So,” Samantha said, holding the door open. “What can I do for you?”

Shane fixed his bright blue eyes on her and gestured inside. “May I come in?”

“Why?”

“Please, Samantha,” Shane said quietly. “We really need to talk.”

Samantha looked at him for a minute before sighing. “Whatever. Make it quick.” She backed away and gave him room to step inside, then turned and crossed her arms.

Shane closed the door behind him and looked at her nervously. A pregnant pause ensued, in which neither person looked at the other, and the dogs sniffed happily at the newcomer to their home. “I know I’m the last person you want to see,” Shane began.

Samantha snorted. “You’re psychic.”

Shane pretended not to hear. “But seriously, Sam, it’s been driving me crazy lately. Our recent encounters haven’t exactly been…pleasant….and I wanted to clear things up personally before this gets any worse.”

“What kinds of things do you want to ‘clear up’, Shane?” Samantha furrowed her brow, confused.

“Well, you know, things….” Shane trailed off. Samantha raised an eyebrow. “Okay, just hear me out. Please. I debated coming here tonight because I know you have been less than thrilled to see me lately, and I thought there was a good chance I could walk away with a bruised jaw. In fact, I still might, judging by the look of death you’re giving me.”

Samantha uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. “Get to the point, Shane.”

He took a deep breath. “Sam, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. Ever since I saw you at that club, I can’t stop thinking about you. You looked – you look – so…amazing. You’ve always been beautiful, but age has really been kind to you.”

Samantha actually chuckled. “Age isn’t really a factor right now, Shane. I prefer to think of thirty as still fairly young.”

Shane laughed. “I just mean that you look more grown up now. And I don’t mean that in a patronizing way at all – I just mean that you’re so much more…a woman….now. You look fantastic.”

Samantha didn’t quite know what to make of that statement. “Uh, thanks...I guess.”

“And you’ve made a successful career, too, I see. Head editor of one of New York’s biggest interest magazines? I knew you’d make it big someday,” Shane smiled. “You always had so much potential. I can’t believe what you’ve made of yourself – I’m so proud of you.”

Samantha rolled her eyes, trying to keep her emotions in check. “Are you still not trying to be patronizing? Because it’s not working.”

“No, no, I’m just saying – you’re a double threat, Sam. And that’s why I haven’t been able to get you off my mind lately.” Shane looked at her.

Samantha made a face, unsure how to respond. What was that supposed to mean? “Oh, so now I’m worth thinking about? Now that I’m a double threat?”

Shane sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying this right…”

“No, you’re really not.”

“I just meant that you really struck a chord with me the other day. And I started to do some thinking. A lot of thinking.”

Samantha sighed. “You still haven’t answered my question, Shane. What kinds of things do you want to clear up? And why do you feel the need to do so now?”

“Because,” Shane lowered his voice. “It hurts me more than you know to think back on how I wronged you all those years ago, and I don’t want to live the rest of my life knowing I did nothing to make it better.”

Samantha blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m a different person now than I was then, Sam. I was young and stupid and let my hormones get away with me. You were – and still are – a wonderful person, and made a perfect wife. I was the moron who couldn’t see that. And I can’t describe how sorry I am.”

Samantha didn’t say anything. She was shocked, surprised at how sincere he sounded. He looked pained, like it hurt him to admit that he had done wrong.

Shane went on. “And lately, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if I hadn’t made the mistake I did. If I hadn’t been such an idiot…” He stepped forward, closing the gap between them.

Samantha closed her eyes. Oh no. “Shane, don’t…”

“No, I have to know, Samantha. Please. Do you still feel anything for me?”

“I – what?” Samantha stared at him. “No, Shane – I – I don’t feel anything for you.”

“Are you sure?” Shane moved closer. Samantha could feel the heat from his body radiating onto hers.

She faltered. “I’m sure.”

“Well, there’s one way to find out.”

Before Samantha knew what was happening, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her gently. Samantha didn’t resist, but she didn’t oblige. Although taken by surprise, she let herself be kissed. It was as if she needed to be sure of the same thing Shane did.

“Well?” he pulled away and looked at her, a tenderness in his eyes.

Samantha was quiet for a moment, still shocked. The last man she had really loved – and thought she’d spend forever with – was standing right in front of her and had just kissed her. And in that one small timeframe, a thousand thoughts had raced across her mind, all jumbled and disconnected, yet somehow conveying one subtle message.

“That was a very nostalgic kiss,” she answered truthfully. “And it reminded me of our life together all those years ago. But that’s all it made me think of…the past.”

“So…you didn’t feel anything for me? Nothing?”

Samantha shook her head. “Nothing.”

“So it’s really over.” Shane spoke quietly, his voice a mix of sadness and closure.

“Shane…it was over a long time ago. The moment you decided not to be faithful to me. The moment I found you in bed with that woman. We went our separate ways. There isn’t – and never was – anything left to hold on to…”

Shane nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” They both stood there awkwardly. “Well…I just had to be sure.” He looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

Samantha nodded.

“I guess this is it, then. I should probably get out of here and leave you to your own life now. I can’t promise we won’t see each other in passing, but at least I won’t have to wonder what might have been anymore.” He opened the door.

“You’re a wonderful person, Sam, don’t you dare let anyone ever tell you differently. And don’t ever let anyone treat you as such. Because whoever does is an asshole.” A sad smile flickered upon his lips, and he paused, his back to her. “Goodbye, Sam.” Then, without looking back, he walked down the hallway toward the elevator.

Samantha watched him and whispered, “Goodbye, Shane.”

She closed the door and inhaled deeply. Her mind was clicking in rapid realization as she found herself believing the very words she herself had just told him. It was as though something had taken over her mind and spoken for her – to her.

He was gone – Shane was gone. Somehow – in some strange instinctual way – Samantha knew he wouldn’t ruffle her feathers again. In that bizarre and completely unexpected ten minutes, he had swooped back into her life one more time, but this time it was for closure. Just like James said she needed.

She could move on now – she could dare to let go. She couldn’t explain why she suddenly knew that, but it was as if something had flipped a switch inside of her and shed light on the fact. The realization had dawned on her so naturally that she was astounded it had taken this long to do so. James was right – Shane was in the past, and had been for a long time. There is – and never was – anything left to hold onto…

Finally, finally, Samantha’s heart and mind were on the same page, and both were telling her what she had to do.

She just hoped she’d be given the chance to do it.