Chapter Seventy-Nine

Richie swiped his room key through the reader on the door. “Come on, come on” he muttered. The light stayed red. “Fuck” he whispered and swiped the card again. The light remained stubbornly red. “What the fuck?”  He looked down at the card, growled, flipped it around and swiped it again. The light blinked green and he heard the welcoming click. Pushing open the door he dropped his key card and wallet on the desk. He was beyond tired. Things had been going so well until the rain started and Jon slipped on the wet ramp, twisting his knee.

He sank down onto the couch, toed off his shoes and propped his feet up on the table. He had no idea what was going to happen now. He had gone to the hospital with Jon, waited while his friend had had an MRI and stayed with him while they waited for the results. Now Jon was back in his room with Advil, an ice pack and a brace for his knee. It was up to him if the tour was going on or if they were going to cancel the remaining shows on this leg. Richie huffed out a breath. Who was he kidding? Jon was going to soldier on and finish out this leg of the tour. He tore his calf muscle and didn’t let that stop him. Yeah, he sighed, Jon would go on that damn stage with a brace on his knee, grinning and singing through the pain so as not to disappoint the fans.  

Richie dropped his feet to the floor, turned and stretched out on the couch.  He’d end up doing everything he could to make things off stage as easy as possible for his nearly impossible front man.  He gaze shifted across the room to the small refrigerator with its tempting contents.  It was nearly enough to make him want to drink just to be able to handle Jon’s temperament which was bound to be bear-like for the next however long it took until he could get the tear fixed.

Sighing, he dug his phone from his pocket.  Nope, he wasn’t going to fall into that pit again.  He was going to lay here, check his messages and sleep until someone came knocking on his door. Hopefully everything at home was okay. He didn’t think he could handle anything else today. Dragging his finger across the screen he was surprised he hadn’t missed any calls. Usually Ava calls at least once during the day. He wasn’t surprised to see several missed text messages though.

He smiled at the update from Ava.  God he loved that little girl.  He smirked.  She wasn’t so little anymore.  Hell she was heading toward 16 faster than he cared to admit.  He shot a response back to her and frowned.  He had two from Nikki. Those were gonna have to wait until he was able to form an intelligent, coherent thought.  She was way too much work.

His eyes drooped shut and he was nearly asleep when the phone vibrated in his hand. Blinking away the drowsy, he tried to focus on the brightly lit screen. The phone vibrated a second time. He smiled at the screen.  Two texts in rapid succession from his other favorite girl.  He opened the first one and nearly laughed out loud.

<Look what I got!>

His smile broadened at the picture. She looked damn cute in her navy ball cap with the pink sparkly NY on it.  She was holding up her glove with a baseball tucked securely inside.  She must have caught a foul ball.

He pecked out a reply.

<Nice catch Sweetheart!>

He moved on to the second one.

<Having a great time. Wish you were here.>

It was obvious that she had turned the camera on herself and her friend.  It looked like they were having a lot of fun. He was glad for that.  She needed more days that put a smile on her face.

<Wish I was too, Sweetheart. And hey, who’s Snow White?>

Her friend bore a striking resemblance to the Disney Princess who had an evil witch for a step-mother and who had escaped to live with seven little people.

Finished with the messages he set the phone on the table and closed his eyes again. He really should drag himself off to bed but he was too tired to move.

~

Stephanie and Darcy had hit a sports bar not far from the stadium for a post-game snack and drink.  Jim had met them out and they were nearly ready to head for home when she started at the vibration of her phone in her pocket.  Pulling it out, she was surprised to see two messages from Richie.  She checked her watch and frowned as she calculated the time difference in her head.  Why isn’t he asleep?   

Digging into her purse she pulled out enough bills to cover the check, tucked them into the black folder with the receipt and set it on the edge of the table.  “Darcy, Jim,” she looked across the table at them.  ”The bill’s all set.  I’m gonna go outside and make a call.  Take your time with your drinks.”

Stepping outside she moved to the corner of the building and found the number she was looking for.  She tapped her foot along with Muddy Waters while she waited for him to answer.

Groggily he lifted the phone.  “’Lo?”

“Rich?” 

When he didn’t say anything she tried again.  “Rich, darlin’, it’s me.”

He yawned and with a finger and thumb he rubbed the grit from his eyes.  “Sweetheart?”

She grimaced.  She had woken him up.  Dammit.  “I’m sorry I woke you.  I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Richie forced himself to be coherent.  “I’m all right, just tired.  It’s been a hell of a day.”

Stephanie leaned against the building, the rough edges of the brick catching the material of her jersey.  She didn’t notice.  “Wanna tell me about it?”

“It’s just band shit” he replied wearily.  “Jon twisted his knee on stage and I only got back from the hospital with him a little bit ago.  I’m ready to drop, baby.”

She pursed her lips, “considering I woke you up, I’d say you had dropped already.  Go on back to sleep.  We can talk another time.”

Groaning, he stood and ambled toward the bed.  “I’m glad you called, I was on the couch.  My back would have been a mess later if I slept on that thing for too long.”

“Well, then I take back the apology.”  She smiled and paused, “love you.”

He smiled into the phone, “love you too, Sweetheart” then he was gone.

Stephanie ended the call and turned back toward the door and found her way blocked by two large men dressed in Anaheim Angels red.

“Damn Yankees” one of the men slurred.

“Fucking go back to New York where you belong” the second one added, even as he made a fist.

Stephanie swallowed hard, trying to find a way to placate these agitated and inebriated men. 

 
They advanced on her and she had nowhere to go.