Chapter Seventy-Seven

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.