Slamming the trunk, Richie set his suitcase
and guitar on the curb before turning back to look at her. For the millionth time since they got into her
car, he wished she had let him call a service to bring him to the airport. He hated this. Airport goodbyes were the worst and the damn
photogs weren’t making things any easier. He didn’t want to put on a show for them, but
fuck if he was going to leave for the next six weeks and not kiss his
girl goodbye. Looking at her and back at
the trunk he had an idea.
“Sweetheart, can you pop the trunk again? I
think I forgot something.”
“Are you sure?” She looked past him to the
curb, noting the suitcase and the guitar case and the well-worn, battered
leather carry on he favored. What could
he have forgotten?
“Just pop the trunk, please?”
She shrugged, “okay.” She pressed the
button on her key fob. There was nothing in the trunk but her organizer with
her blanket, umbrella, small emergency tool kit and flashlight. “See, you
didn’t-”
He cut her off and pulled her behind the
car. “I know, but I thought the lid might shield us a little from the cameras.”
He gazed down at her and caressed the crest of her cheek with his thumb, combed
his fingers into the silky strands of her hair. “I’m going to miss you Sweetheart and the
world doesn’t need to see this.” With that
he lowered his mouth to hers.
She could hear the cameras, see the shadow
of the flashes even as her eyes slid shut. They were going to be splashed all
over every rag and mag in the country and she couldn’t seem to care. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was him right now. She
leaned into him and angled her head, wanting more of him. This was going to have to last her for the
next 42 days.
They had begun their goodbye last night on
her deck. Continued it in her bed that
morning. They had made love and lingered in the rumpled sheets until the need
for the bathroom and food had pushed them from their cocoon. Between teasing kisses and intimate touches
they had managed to get a little food in their bellies before chasing each
other back up the stairs where they christened her shower until the hot water
ran cold.
And now, here they were at the airport. One
final kiss and he’d be off to play rock star on the other side of the world
from her for the next six weeks. He
promised to call, email and text. If
they could figure out the time difference in whatever country he landed in over
the next few weeks, they could even Skype or Facetime each other. They’d manage.
He nipped her bottom lip and she eased back
from him, gripping his hands for a precious few seconds. He had to go, she knew
he had to go, but she wanted to hold on to him for just a minute more. “Safe
travels, Rich.”
He squeezed her fingers. She never used an
endearment for him, but the way his name practically whispered off her lips was
enough for him. “I’ll leave that to the Captain, Sweetheart, but I can promise
to keep my seatbelt buckled and my hands and arms inside the ride at all
times.” That got him the laugh he was
looking for. He wanted the memory of a smile not a frown. He reached up to slam
the trunk once again. “I gotta get in there and check my bag and shit.” He
cupped her chin in his palm, “you’re okay?” Her eyes were sad, but there were no tears.
She nodded. “I’m fine.” She gripped his
wrist and turned, pressing her lips to his palm. “I love you. Go. You don’t want to miss your flight.” The
sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be home.
Letting her go he turned and reached for
his bags. “I’ll call you.”
She nodded and watched him walk through the
automatic sliding doors. With a last wink and wave, he was gone.
“Stephanie!”
“Stephanie!”
“Stephanie!”
She blinked and turned toward the crowd
that was calling her name. She hastily
dropped her sunglasses from the top of her head down over her eyes. Questions
were hurled at her and she put up her hand, walked around to the driver’s side
of the car and got in. She didn’t want to deal with them right now. Slamming the door she put the car in drive
and pulled away from the curb without answering a single one.
QQQQQQQ
To: The Girls
From: Q
Re: He’s Gone
Hey girls, hope
this finds you all happy and healthy. I
know it’s been a while, but things have been a little crazy out here on the
left coast.
Richie and I
traveled back to the right side of the country to visit my family (he met them all
and lived to talk about it the next day…LOL).
After spending a few days in New York, we hopped in our rental car and
drove to NJ (we survived 6 hours in the car together…it must be true love,
right? LOL). Joan is the sweetest,
nicest woman ever. She reminded me of my
mother and grandmother wrapped up in one neat package. I could see hints of Richie in her. Or her in Richie…whichever. He is definitely momma’s boy. It was sweet to see him dote on her. If I hadn’t already been in love with the
man, that would have pushed me right over the edge.
No sooner did we
return then Richie was packing again to head out to the Middle East. I dropped him off at the airport just a
little while ago. *pout*
I’m feeling a
little lost and lonely right now. Kind
of like I did right after I lost Mark and Ben.
I know it’s not the same, and that I’m going to see him in six short
weeks, but I got so used to him being here that I’m not sure what to do with
myself right now. I start a new habitat
project in a couple days, but between now and then, I have no idea what I’m
going to do to fill the void. There’s
only so much shopping a girl can do. J
Pausing, Stephanie rose from the desk
chair, stepped away from her laptop and paced to the window. She was entirely too maudlin right now. It wasn’t as if he died for Christ’s
sake. She needed to get a grip and
lighten her mood and the tone of this email.
Her friends were going to think she was losing it.
With a sigh she sat back down.
Sorry, to be so
whiny. I’ll be fine.
Oh, not that you
probably don’t already know this, but I’m no longer a mystery. I saw myself and Richie on the cover of one
of those check out rack mags. “’She’s A
Mystery’ No More” was the headline.
Apparently while we were away someone did a whole lot of digging and
figured out who I am and what my story was.
L
I/we got harangued
outside the airport today but I just flipped my sunglasses down over my eyes,
got in my car and drove off. I honestly
don’t know how the rich and famous and/or wanna be famous deal with that all
the time. It’s enough to drive a sane
person crazy.
So, that’s all the
news that’s fit to print from out here on the left side of the country.
Wait, I forgot one
thing. I’m going to be traveling with
Richie for the last leg of the tour. He
asked me to come with him in July. I
can’t freakin’ wait!!
Now, THAT’S all the
news that’s fit to print. J
Love to you all~
Q
QQQQQQQ
Richie walked off the plane in Frankfurt and
headed for the Airport Club. He had long
ago learned the value of belonging to certain airport clubs. It made traveling only slightly easier and
more comfortable, but considering who he was, it was nearly a must to not have
fans fawning all over him at every turn.
Setting his carry-on bag and his guitar
case down by the window he paced the length of the room, stretching his long,
cramped legs. He may travel first class,
but a long flight is a long flight, no matter what seat you’re in. He was just glad that the bulk of his travel
for the day was over. He had a short
layover, just shy of two hours here then an hour and a half on another plane and
he’d be in Zagreb. Dave, Tico and Hugh
should be there already or, if not, land there around the same time as he
did. Jon would show up some time late
that night. He had a foundation meeting
or some other such shit that Richie didn’t even want to think about.
Finishing his tour of the club he stood by
his bags staring out the tall windows, watching the planes move on the tarmac,
glad there wasn’t anyone else here at the moment. Absently he dug in his pocket for his phone and
turned it on. Once it powered up it
would automatically set the time for him so he would know what the difference between
here and Los Angeles was. He figured it
was about nine hours, but he wasn’t one hundred percent on that.
He smiled down at the wallpaper on his
phone. It was of him and Ava at the last
fashion show, when he had finally let her walk the runway. She was so beautiful. Some days he found it hard to believe that he
had actually had a hand in creating her.
He slid his finger across the screen and a second picture appeared. His other favorite girl was staring at him
from the small screen. He glanced down
at the bottom and found the time. He had
been right. He was nine hours ahead of
her. It would be early in LA, but he
could at least leave her a message.
He found her number in his contacts,
cringing when he heard the band’s music in his ear. He really
needed to convince her to change that ringback tone. He settled in a chair, waiting for the call
to kick over to her voice mail.
Stephanie rolled over, holding his pillow
to her chest and reached for the phone that was vibrating madly on her night table. She had slept fitfully, and was glad for the distraction. She didn’t even bother to check to see who it
was. “Hello.”
“Sweetheart?” Surprise colored his voice. He hadn’t expected to actually talk to her.
“Hmm mmm” she pulled the phone from her ear
and looked at the screen, “Rich?”
He smiled at the sleepy way she said his
name. “It’s me babe, I’m in
Frankfurt. I’ve got a little time before
I board my next flight. I didn’t mean to
wake you.”
She curled on her side with the phone to her
ear, “it’s okay. I wasn’t really sleeping
anyway.”
“You too?
I managed a little bit on the plane, but sleeping in an airplane seat is
nowhere near as comfortable as being wrapped around you in your bed.”
“Mmmmm” she purred. “I like the sound of you wrapped around
me. I’m holding your pillow hostage
right now. It still smells like you.”
He groaned quietly and dropped his head to
his hand. “I wish I was there with you
right now.”
“Me too” she whispered.
He could almost picture her in his mind’s
eye. “Send me a picture?” He wanted to know how close his imagination
was to the reality that was her.
“Okay, gimme a sec.”
He heard the rustle of the sheets and her
groan as she stretched. The clicks in
his ear told him she was taking a picture.
A few more clicks and then his phone beeped.
“You have mail my friend” she murmured.
He waited impatiently for the picture to
download. He sucked in a breath and his entire
body tensed. She had pushed the blankets
off and was laying on her side, wearing only one of those camisole things and
lacy panties that left half her cheeks bare.
Her head was resting on the only pillow that was on the bed with her, she
had her hand tucked up under her chin and her hair was fanned out around her in
a mess of curls.
Reality was far better than his
imagination.
“Sweetheart, I’m going be walking with a limp
for this entire leg of the tour if you keep sending me pictures like that.”
She chuckled huskily. “You asked for it.”
He shook his head, she could be such a
smart ass. “I know Darlin’, I know.” And I’ll
be jerking one out in the shower later to show my appreciation.
An announcement came over the speaker
system. His flight was going to start
boarding.
“Sweetheart, I have to go. My flight is boarding.”
She nodded, “okay, have a great show in
Zagreb. Call me when you can. Oh, maybe you can send me a picture next
time?”
He stood and shook his head. “It won’t be nearly as sexy as the one you
sent me, but I’ll see what I can do.”
She rearranged herself in her bed, pulling
the blankets back up and hugging the pillow again. “Miss you, darlin’.” She was feeling sleepy. Maybe she could get a few hours of sleep now.
He smiled at the endearment. It felt good to hear it from her. “Miss you too. I’ll call you again.”
He stuck the phone in
his pocket, pulled down his shirt self-consciously, picked up his carry-on and
guitar and headed to his gate.
