15.

The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind. Natalie and Richie spent as much time as they could afford together, meaning it was mostly in the wee hours of the morning. He and Jon spent so much time in the studio that they’d even slept there on more than one occasion. Natalie knew she was getting in over her head, but she’d held onto what Richie had told her that night. She didn’t know the exact date he was leaving – he wouldn’t tell her – but whenever his impending departure came to mind, she pushed it as far away as she could.

Word had gotten out that Richie and Jon were around Nashville, attracting a couple of paparazzi and a few of the more…devoted…fans. It made it hard for both of them to visit Benny’s, though they’d come on a few occasions early in the evening to check out some local bands. From time spent together, Natalie could tell Richie and Jon had had a heart to heart. Jon spoke to her with ease, even teased and joked around with like he’d known her all her life.

It was a hot afternoon in July when Richie showed up on her doorstep, dread evident in every crease and line of his face. He rang the doorbell twice and knocked a few times, but the door never opened. He looked to make sure her car was in the driveway, and seeing it there unnerved him. There was no reason for her to not answer her door. He turned the knob and stepped inside quietly.

“Natalie?” he called, to no answer. “It’s me. Are you in here?” he asked, wandering through the house. There was no sign of her until he crossed through the kitchen and saw her out of the corner of an eye through the window. She was climbing out of the pool, water draining off of her body as she pushed herself onto the concrete. She ran two hands along the side of her head to smooth her hair out and tugged at the bottom of her bikini.

“Jesus,” he mused to himself, drinking the sight of her in. She was heading for the diving board now, and Richie watched as she made a clean dive back into the pool before he headed out himself. By the time she resurfaced, he was settling down into a lounge chair next to the pool.

“When’d you get here?” she asked with a wide smile as she treaded the water.
“Just now.”
“Jon doesn’t have you holed up in the studio this afternoon?” she teased.
“Actually, no,” Richie answered, stretching and running a hand along his neck. Natalie eyed him scrupulously and realized he wasn’t telling her something.
“What?” she asked, swimming to the side of the pool and resting her arms against the concrete.
“What?” he repeated.
“What are you not saying?”

Richie studied her face, determined to remember every detail about her. He took note of the size and shape of her eyes, of the way her cheeks dimpled and her nose crinkled when she smiled, of the freckles that splayed across her cheeks and nose. He didn’t want to forget one thing about her.

“That I’m leaving in two hours,” he sighed, sitting up straight again. That face he was trying to etch into his memory – as if he ever stood a chance of forgetting it – fell immediately. Without a word, she turned away from him and dove back under the water. He watched as her hair danced underneath the surface and as her little legs worked to carry her away from him. He thought very seriously that he was going to have to dive in after her, but she finally came back up for air. She wasn’t crying, a fact that made him exhale in relief. He didn’t know what he’d have done if he ever made her eyes glaze over like they were the night after the bar fight.

He didn’t push her to say anything, and she stood there in the water and watching him for a moment. He stared straight back, wondering how he was ever supposed to leave something so magnificent. She wasn’t perfect – by any means. She was little and stubborn. She couldn’t dance to save her life and she was an awful driver. But, somehow, he was certain she was everything he could ever want. When she finally got out of the water and walked toward him, Richie momentarily forgot why he was there. His eyes were focused on the way she bounced in all the right places as she walked in that little bikini, and he broke out into a very inappropriate smile given the situation. It wasn’t until his eyes traveled upward again and he saw the look on his face that he remembered his purpose for being there – to say goodbye.

She stopped in front of him and looked down, beckoning him with a hand to stand up with her. He obliged and rose to his feet, and she placed one hand on his chest and kissed him softly. She kept a fair amount of distance between them, but Richie pulled her against him; a little water never killed anybody.

“What happened to never say goodbye?” she asked wearing as much of a smile as she could. Richie smiled back at her and hugged her tighter.
”Not gonna say goodbye. I’ll kiss you and I’ll say see you later, and I will.”

Natalie buried her face in his chest and inhaled his scent as she bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from crying. She knew in her heart that what he was saying was just for pacification, but she willed herself to believe it for the time being.

“Let’s go inside,” she said quietly, leading him back in through the sliding glass door he’d walked out. “Go on into the living room. I’m gonna go get some clothes on.”

Richie did as he was told (only a little disappointed in her decision to change out of the bikini she was currently sporting) and sidled over to the mantelpiece again. It was a spot in her house that he always found his way to, other than the refrigerator. He loved the pictures of her – of her past. She hadn’t seemed to change much over the years; the teenage Natalie smiling at him from high school pictures looked pretty much like the one he so often woke up next to these days. He glanced over his shoulder and picked up his favorite picture of her, one where she’d obviously been surprised by the camera. Turning the frame over in his hands, he popped out the back and pocketed the picture. Just as quickly, he replaced it with a picture Jon had snapped of the two of them at the bar at Benny’s one night and put it back among the other frames. He admired it in the frame, smiling at how her hair had fallen loose from the braids she’d worn it in that night and wisped around her face. He looked at it nestled between a picture of Natalie and who he could only assume was her sister, because the girl looked a lot like her, and a picture of a big group of people in front of the bar at Benny’s. “Those pictures are exactly the way you left them last time, you know,” Natalie called out as she came back into the room. Richie turned to greet her again wearing a smile, because little did she know…

“Do me a favor?” she asked before he could say anything else.
“Anything, baby.”
“Just sit with me for a while.”

She sank down onto her couch, tossing aside some pillows; she scooted in close when Richie joined her and let her hair rest on his chest. They sat like that for what seemed like days, and neither would have changed it for anything in the world. A thousand thoughts must have passed between them, but neither spoke a word or even moved. They seemed to understand and hear the other without saying a word, yet it was Richie who spoke first.

“You can come with me.”

It was spoken so quickly and so simply that Natalie sat up and looked at him, hurt in her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood to joke anymore, and that hit a definite sore spot. Richie seemed to read her mind, and continued on.

“I’m serious. I’ve got plenty of room. Come with me.”
“To Los Angeles?”
“Why not?”
“Richie, I can’t,” she stammered, shocked by his proposition.
“Why? What have you got here that you can’t leave?”
“I don’t belong in Los Angeles…”
“You belong with me.”
“What am I going to do in LA?”
“Whatever you want. Anything you want.”
“We’ve known each other for a couple of months…”

Natalie could see her arguments were going nowhere as her eyes raced between his. Her breathing had quickened, but Richie seemed cool as a cucumber. The prospect of leaving with Richie was overwhelming. Her initial reaction was to run to her bedroom and pack a suitcase, but her head wouldn’t let her. She had the bar to take care of. She had friends here. She had a house, a job, a life. Granted, a life with one very important ingredient missing, but a life nonetheless. She imagined what a life would be like in LA with Richie…endless days of sun and music, no doubt. She’d travel and see places she’d never seen, probably never even heard of. But then she thought of the nights spent alone while Richie was away, all the cameras, all the things people would say about her; she’d seen the nasty headlines journalists had written about Denise Richards. Could she handle that? Richie sensed her hesitation and groaned out of frustration.

“I’m not ready to let you go. I don’t think I can. It’s not like I asked for it to happen, but it did. Now what I am asking is for you to come with me. Come be with me, Natalie. Everything will be right here waiting for you if you want to come back.”

He was offering her solid gold. At first glance, anyone would be foolish to turn it down.

“Rich, you aren’t thinking straight. You haven’t thought this through.”
“What’s there to think about? You come live with me until we see where this goes. If it turns out well, hell, that’s great. Excellent. If not, then fine. I’ll fly you back here the first day you ask me.”

Natalie’s eyes swam with tears as she brought a soft hand to his face. “I love you, Richie Sambora,” she whispered sadly, dropping her hand from his face. Richie stared at her in wonder, not believing what she was doing. “But we both know this isn’t a good idea.”

Richie jumped from his place on the couch and paced the room, running frantic fingers through his hair. She kept her spot on the couch, her eyes fixed on her feet as though she’d only just seen them that day.

“Fuck,” he growled out, “You don’t get it. I love you. I love you, Natalie Dawn Kendrick. I do.” His tone of voice and his confession brought Natalie to her feet.
“Listen,” she said loudly to get his attention. She brought both palms to his cheeks this time and spoke with determination. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know you sooner. Before everyone else knew your name. Before cameras followed you around. Before you had your heart broken. I’m sorry I can’t go with you to Los Angeles. I’m sorry you don’t like it. I’m sorry. I love you. I mean it. I don’t love Richie Sambora, the guitarist and songwriter. I love Richie Sambora, the man who taught me how to love again. And I’ll never forget him, not as long as I live. And I’m sorry you’re angry with me; I’m sorry you don’t understand. All you have to understand is that that you’ll always have a piece of my heart.”
“I don’t want a piece of your heart,” Richie’s voice was rough and desperate, “I want it all. Every bit of it.”
“We’re damaged goods, Richie, you and me. It isn’t all there anymore. But if it were, you’d be taking it with you on that plane.”

The calm expression she wore pained Richie – both because it seemed so easy for her and because he knew she was only putting on an act for him. He was finally calming down and swore under his breath a few times before he pulled her into another hug. It had been on a whim that he decided she should go back to California with him. It’d been stupid to think he could just uproot her and whisk her away to the other side of the nation. But that didn't stop him from still wishing he could.

“I’m gonna see you again,” he said firmly as he let her go.
She smiled and placed one finger on his chin. “One day,” she whispered.

Fin.


Note: Stay tuned for my Jon fic. It's nearly done, and (in my opinion) written better than this one.

14.

Last update for a week. Vacation time, kiddos.



Natalie sat in a chair by a window as they waited, her face toward turns it and her eyes unmoving. She felt Jon watching her, and she knew what he was thinking. She slowly turned to face him, and he made no show of looking away from her.

“You don’t like me, do you?” she asked matter-of-factly. Jon seemed to have been expecting the question and smirked a little to himself.
“It’s not that I don’t like you…” he began, pushing himself up from the wall he’d been leaning against.
“Then you don’t trust me. You think I’m after something."
“You could be after his dirty socks for all I care. It’s not you I’m worried about. Richie’s been through a lot, and I’m just looking out for him.”
“I don’t intend to cause him any trouble, you know.”
“Well in the end, it doesn’t really matter, does it? What you do and what you intended, it’s all the same.”

Natalie looked down at her hands quietly. She knew Jon was just looking out for his brother and the band, but it hurt her to know that she was seen as a problem to be gotten rid of. She never had high expectations for whatever she was doing with Richie, but that didn’t mean she didn’t toy with the notion of what could have been were he not who he was. Jon seemed to realize he’d hit a nerve and sighed to himself. He felt like a little bit of a jackass, but he stood behind what he’d said.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you feelings,” he started, sinking into a chair next to her, “But you gotta realize where I’m coming from.”
“I do. And now you’ve got to realize where I’m coming from.”
“You realize you live in Nashville, right?”
“So?”
“So what are you doing? Setting yourself up for something that you know has to end? Richie has to get on that plane and go back home sooner or later. You’re gonna have to say goodbye.”
“You’re right. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the present.”
“You’re just prolonging the inevitable.”
“That’s not true. He knows the way back here if he wants to come. Correct me if I’m wrong, but do you not repeatedly leave your wife to tour the world?”
“That’s different.”
“But you still do it. Because you love each other and that’s really all that matters.”

She said it before she meant to, and it caught her by as much surprise as it did Jon. He blinked those blue eyes at her, and she blinked her own right back. She stuttered for a moment before she managed to regain her composure.

“That came out wrong,” she said quickly. “Nevermind.”

The sound of a door being opened down below put an abrupt end to the otherwise heated conversation, and Richie’s loud footsteps could be heard climbing the stairs. Jon rose from his chair as Richie entered and took long strides toward him.

“I’m headin’ out. See you later tonight,” he said quietly to his friend before popping a hand over his shoulder. Richie nodded, but Natalie had commanded his attention. She looked like a broken toy sitting in the chair, her right cheek already a sickening shade of purple. She looked up at him – her eyes glassy looking from the tears she’d held back all night – like she was embarrassed, ashamed of something. She smiled sadly at the sight of him, but didn’t move from the chair.

“I’m so sorry, Richie,” she said quietly, her eyes back on her hands now. “That was awful, back there. Thank you for what you did, but you really shouldn’t have. Suppose someone saw you…” Her voice drifted off and nearly broke Richie’s heart.
“Stop apologizing.” His voice sounded so loud in the silence of the room that Natalie couldn’t help but look at him again.
“But—“ she started, only to be interrupted.
“But nothing. Stop it now. That wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

He sat down in the chair Jon had previous occupied and motioned for her to join him; she nestled down into his lap and let her legs dangle over the side of the chair. While wrapping two strong arms around her, he kissed the bruise on her cheek lightly.

“Listen, baby. I don’t know what we’re doing here. I don’t know what we’re gonna do about it, either. But I’m not sorry that I clocked that son of a bitch tonight, and I’m not sorry we’ve made a mess of things. You confuse the hell out of me, but I like it. You make me remember what it was like to…” his mind wandered in search of a word, “Relax. I can be happy sittin in a car eating the greasiest, sloppiest food with you. I can sit in a room and watch you sing and, honest to God, it makes me forget my name. You make me forget everything. All that bad shit I’ve carried around disappears when I’m around you.”

Richie stopped and looked down at her, finally realizing what exactly it was she made him feel. She made him feel young again, like he didn’t have a care in the word. He was energized. Playful. Carefree. He laughed. He could tell from the look on her face that she didn’t know what to say, and that was okay with him.

“You don’t have to say anything back to me, I’m used to rendering women speechless,” he chuckled. The joke didn’t fly over her head, but Natalie didn’t laugh. The doleful look on her face worried Richie enough that he stopped stroking her cheek and turned her to look at him. “Okay now you gotta say something,” he insisted.
“You don’t think I’m after your money or a minute in the spotlight, do you?” she said quickly. Richie's eyes danced in mirth for a minute before he realized that she was being serious.
“Of course not. I’m not stupid. What gave you that idea?”
“No one. I just…I mean how often do people like you meet random women on the street?”
“We’re normal people too, you know. And for the record, I met you in a bar.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I like to think you pay attention to me because you enjoy my company.”
“I do. More than I’ve enjoyed anybody else’s in a long time. We’re in the same boat, Rich. But you’re about to leave, and it’s awfully hard to row a boat alone.”
“Well we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. There’s no use in spoiling what we’re doing now with worrying about what we’ll do later."

His mirrored sentiment of what she'd tried to explain to Jon earlier brought a small smile to her face, and that seemed to be enough for Richie. She let her head rest against his chest and found comfort in the dependable rhythm of his heartbeat, and it wasn't long until she fell asleep.

13.

Note: Sorry I take forever in updating these days, guys! The story is already finished, so it has nothing to do with that. It's just that I'm in the middle of writing another one (with Jon!) and I get so caught up with it that I forget to go back and post here!


Even with the note, Natalie found herself angry at Richie for leaving like he had, and she still hadn’t been able to push that anger at herself away either. She arrived at the bar that night in more than a bad mood, and it didn’t help when she saw who was waiting for her there.

“How many times are you going to do this, Luke?” she asked tiredly, looking at him through lidded eyes. Luke raised a beer to his lips and turned in his stool until he was facing Natalie and shrugged, “Until you finally listen to me, Nat.”
“You’re done here.” She grabbed the bottle of beer from his hand and tossed it in the trashcan behind the bar.
“I paid for that—“ he protested loudly, prompting Natalie to pull cash out of her own pocket and toss it at him.
“There. Now get out of my bar. And stay out. I’m serious, Luke. I don’t wanna see you here again. I’ll call the police.”
“I got just as much of a right to be here as anyone else in this sorry place,” he argued, gesturing around the bar. “I’ll come here as often as I damn well please.”
“Out,” she repeated loudly, throwing an arm at the door. She glared at him, every muscle in her body rigid and her chin jutting forward. Luke merely laughed and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her in close.
“I always did like it when you got all angry.”

Natalie pushed at his chest and shoved herself free. Her face was murderous, but Luke didn’t seem afraid. He was still smirking at her, his eyes roaming freely over her body.

“I’m pretty sure I heard her say out,” came a deep voice over Natalie’s shoulder. She turned to see Richie towering behind her, his face almost as angry as her own. She looked quickly back at Luke, who was straightening up in his seat and moving to stand.
“What are you gonna do about it?” he asked, sizing Richie up. Luke wasn’t a small man by any means, but he looked like an ant ready to be squashed standing there next to Richie.
“Man, don’t be a dick. Just get out.” Richie wasn’t looking for a fight; he could see the headlines now, recovering alcoholic in a bar fight in Nashville. Jesus. Jon would kill him.
“How about you mind your own fucking business, pal?”
“Stop, Ri—“ Natalie thought better of using his name, “Just don’t. I got it. It’s fine.”
“You know this piece of shit?” Luke asked, sidling up closer to Natalie.
“I know this one,” she answered, staring at him, “Amy’s calling the police, Luke.”

Behind the bar, Richie saw the bespectacled girl holding a phone to her ear and eyeing the scene before her carefully. Luke, too, glanced back at her but he didn’t seem deterred.

“Let her call. I came to talk to you, baby,” Luke said with a shrug, reaching out for Natalie again. He was met with four arms this time, both Natalie and Richie shoving him roughly away from her. The combined force of it and his drunken state sent him stumbling back into the bar. A few people around had noticed the squabble, and had turned in their seats to watch. Luke scrambled to his feet and stared at the pair of them, his eyes darting between them. Without warning, he raised a fist and collided it with Natalie’s cheek. The force of it knocked her sideways into a table, and sent Richie’s own fist crashing into Luke. Several people gasped and moved out of the way, a pair of men helping Natalie to her feet as she clutched at her face.

“Out!” she yelled, gaining her bearings again. “Both of you, get out!” she shouted, tears stinging at her face from the pain of the punch. Richie had both of Luke’s arms pinned, with Luke tearing wildly beneath his grasp. He pushed the man roughly away from him, and looked back at Natalie. Luke pulled himself up with a stool and stared after Richie as he pushed through the crowd for the back door. Natalie watched him go too, praying to God nobody had recognized him and that the police wouldn’t see him.

“What are you looking at?” Luke yelled to the crowd, “Drink your fucking drinks, you nosey pieces of shit.”

He mopped up the blood coming from his nose with the sleeve of his shirt and looked back at his ex-wife. “This ain’t over with,” he warned, pointing at her.
“The hell it isn’t,” she spat, throwing a towel at him. He caught it in the air and held it to his nose, but didn’t budge from his spot. Blue lights swarmed through the room with the arrival of the police, and Natalie went to meet them at the door. Andy, the regular who had gotten Natalie started with her singing, came forward and grabbed Luke by the arm and pulled him along outside too. By the time they reached the sidewalk, Natalie was already well into the story.

“He was drunk. I shoved him and he fell. That’s how his nose started bleeding. That was all,” she said quickly, leaving Richie out of the story altogether.
“She’s lyin, officer,” Luke slurred, pulling away from Andy’s grip. The cop looked back at Natalie with a raised eyebrow.
“I swear it. I told him to get out of my bar – more than once. He’d already had enough to drink by the time I got here—“
“He harassed her, sir,” Andy cut in amidst protests of Luke, “He kept grabbin at her. She pushed him off and he fell. He came back up swingin, caught her square in the face.” The officer’s eyes flashed back to Natalie’s face, the side of which was already beginning to bruise and swell.
“This your bar, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she answered shakily.
“And you asked him to leave?”
“Every time he comes in here.”
“That so?” he asked Luke, who didn’t argue.
“Well then. If that’s the way of it, then you’re comin with us.”
“What the hell for?”
“Owner has asked you to leave on several occasions…battery…disturbing the peace…how were you planning on getting home?”
“My car.”
”That’s what I thought. You two can go. I think we’ve got it here,” he said to Natalie and Andy.

She watched as they spoke to Luke before allowing Andy to pull her back into the bar. She turned to hug him and squeezed him tightly, “Thank you, Andy.”
“No problem, Nat. I’ve watched him hassle you long enough. I’m glad someone finally gave him what he deserves. Why don’t you go on home? It ain’t that crowded tonight. I’m sure Amy can handle it just fine.”

Natalie nodded and batted tears away from her eyes. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed Andy’s cheek lightly. “You tell her to give you whatever you want. On the house. You hear?” she asked, as she turned to leave.

Natalie drove to every hotel in town she could think of and scanned the parking lots for Richie’s rental car; she couldn’t very well walk in and ask for a Richie Sambora, after all. She was growing steadily more frustrated as she made her rounds, but she’d found no sight of him at all. She doubled back in her path and headed for the studio they’d spent hours in the night of that thunderstorm, and was relieved to see that a light was on. She knew there was no guarantee that he’d be there, but at least someone was. And someone had to know where he was.

She parked her car quickly and raced toward the door, pounding quickly and loudly on it several times, but nobody was opening it. She waited on the doorstep a few minutes before she tried again, and she could hear footsteps on the other side this time.

“Hello?” she called, as the person still wasn’t opening the door, “Is anybody in there?”

Jon vaguely recognized the voice from his nights in the bar with Richie, and he pulled the door open quickly. He was a bit annoyed at having been interrupted, but the look of her face pushed that far away from his mind.

“Baby,” he started, pulling her into the entryway and shutting the door behind her, “What happened?”
“Is Richie here?” she asked quickly, looking around Jon.
“No,” he answered, “I thought he was with you. He left about an hour ago to head over to Benny’s. What happened to you?” he repeated.
“Long story,” she said with a shake of her head. Jon could see how worked up she was and brought a hand to her face to settle her down, one thumb gently stroking over the bruise on her face.
“Hey, calm down,” he soothed, “I’ll call him. C’mon.”

Jon dropped his hand from her face down to loop with her's and beckoned her upstairs with him. She allowed him to pull her along behind him, which could have otherwise been a pleasant experience...watching him climb stairs from behind under any other circumstances. He dropped her hand as he reached for the cell phone sitting on the piano she’d previously seen, and she watched in silence as he raised it to his ear.

“Rich?” he asked, glancing back at Natalie. “Hey, man, where are you?”
“Natalie’s at the studio looking for you…” he glanced at her again and turned his back to her, “She’s pretty shaken up, man. Looks like she’s been roughed up, too,” he added, his voice lowered. “Don’t worry. I’ve got her. I’ll keep her here ‘til you come.” And with that, he closed the phone and turned back to the woman. “He’s on his way.”

12.

Three hours later, at around three in the morning, Richie was rocking back and forth in a chair on her front porch when Natalie pulled into her driveway. The figure on her porch scared her at first, but the lazy grin and wave that came from it made her realize who it was. She was surprised to see him there at all for obvious reasons, especially since he and Jon had both left abruptly after her performance.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, grabbing her purse and shutting the door behind her.
“Thought you needed me tonight,” Richie answered, not moving from his seat.
“Now what gave you a crazy idea like that?” she asked innocently as she climbed the steps to her porch one at a time.
“Well, darling, I’m pretty sure you told me…about couple dozen other people…a few hours ago.”
“Is that so?” she asked, still feigning and playing innocence. Richie grabbed her wrist and pulled her down so that she landed in his lap with a light giggle.
“You’re damn right,” he answered before he kissed her lips lightly.
“You know last time this happened…” Natalie began, pulling away from his mouth and moving to get up.
“This isn’t last time, baby,” Richie cut her off, keeping her in place and kissing her again. Natalie didn’t need further persuasion; she abandoned her argument promptly and returned his kiss eagerly. She pulled away a couple of minutes later only to suggest a little breathlessly that they go inside.

Richie loosened his hold on her long enough for her to climb out of his lap and dig around in her purse for her keys; her hands shook so badly that she could hardly get the door open. The second she managed it though, his hands were back on her hips and turning her around so she faced him. He kicked the door shut behind him and ravaged her mouth hungrily. They stumbled in the darkness, but Richie kept a firm hand on her lower back to steady her. Somehow they’d made it to the couch, where Richie eased her down and covered her body with his own. Natalie wrapped her arms around him, running her hands down the length of his back. He felt strong beneath her touch, and she buried her nails into him as his lips moved down to her neck. His breath was hot and lit her senses on fire, and she traded his back for his head when she brought her hands up to play through the hair atop it.

Much to her dismay, Richie left her neck and her body altogether. She turned her head and looked up at him expectantly, only to find him hovering above and blinking at her.
“What?” she asked, exasperated. Fool me once, she thought to herself.
“Just wanted to get a clear picture of what you looked like under me,” Richie quipped, flashing that smile again. Natalie rolled her eyes and smiled herself, looping her fingers around the chain that dangled from his neck and pulled him back down to her. Her little fingers worked quickly at the buttons on his shirt as they kissed, and she pushed it apart to let her hands explore his chest and stomach. She felt his muscles tense as her fingers trailed above his waistline, and she ran her fingers through the happy trail she’d found. Richie emitted a low, guttural groan and tore his mouth away from his.
“Jesus, Richie, what now?” she asked, her chest heaving and her cheeks flushed.
“Are you on—“ he breathed out, “Do you have?” He wasn’t making any sense, and Natalie’s eyes raced between his as she tried to string together what he was saying. It clicked, and she nodded quickly. “Pill. On it for years. Now shut the fuck up,” she ordered, and Richie obeyed. He pushed her shirt up over her chest and covered one breast with a hand. Natalie’s little hand came to cover his, holding it there as she kissed him. It wasn’t long until she was naked from the waist up, and Richie’s mouth had left her’s to go play down south. Her back arched and her fingers entwined in his hair again as his tongue repeatedly made her mind go numb. As his mouth covered her chest, he let one hand play up and down her stomach, sending shivers through her body at the tickling sensation.

He was surprised when she pushed him roughly off of her, sending him on his back on the other end of the couch. He raised up to question what she’d done, but Natalie was already crawling toward him. It was a magnificent, almost feral vision to see. Her hair was wild and hanging in her face, framing it in the shadows. Her eyes were holding his, and Richie saw something in them he hadn’t seen in a long time. She planted a trail of soft kisses on his stomach to his mouth, and Richie was so absorbed in her mouth that he didn’t even feel her little hands working on the buckle to his jeans. She left his mouth and tugged at the trousers, and Richie resituated himself to help her get them out of the way. In a horribly teasing manner, she ignored his lower body now and returned to his mouth with a coy smile. Richie’s hope – among other things – had gone up, but two can play that game. He wasted no time in getting her out of her jeans, and he ran his hands along her backside with pleasure. In one fluid movement, he had rolled over and dragged her beneath him again. He positioned himself between her legs and kissed at the inside of her thighs, causing Natalie to shudder at the feel of his stubble on her legs. She squirmed beneath his touch, and Richie knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He hooked two fingers under the waistband of her panties and pulled them down, and he felt Natalie’s entire body shaking as he did so.

It was then that it became real for her, what she was doing. She was suddenly shy, even scared. She’d not been with a man in years – as awful as it sounded to admit. Richie looked up her face long enough to realize that her tremblings were not in anticipation; he saw fear written on her face.

”Hey,” he whispered quietly, coming back up to her face. He let a hand play over her collarbone before he turned her to face him, as she’d dropped her head to the side and tried her best not to meet his eyes. “Hey,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry—“ she blurted out. Richie put one finger to her lips, hushing her.
“It’s okay,” he coaxed. “We don’t have to,” he forced out, however much he wanted to. Natalie’s breathing was heavy and rapid, and she thought she might explode from the thoughts racing through her mind. It felt like she was a virgin again, terrified and excited all at once. She shook her head quickly and kissed Richie roughly, letting him know that she’d given him her answer. It was an answer Richie greatly appreciated, as he hadn’t been keen on turning back now. Beneath his expert hands, her body relaxed and the trembling subsided. He repeatedly drove her to the edge, only to back away when he sensed she was too close. He wanted her to writhe; he wanted to drive her wild. He smiled to himself as she whimpered, thoroughly enjoying his little game. He allowed it to go on several more minutes before he finally gave her release, which sent her gasping and clutching at the sides of the couch. When the tension in her body had gone, Natalie repaid the favor to Richie tenfold. With him sitting properly on the couch, she positioned herself on her knees below him. She kept her eyes on his face as she took him in, and Richie held her gaze as long as he could before he closed his eyes and let his head fall back to rest on the sofa. Her hand and mouth worked together. It didn’t take Richie long, and he raised his head again long enough to nudge her shoulders away from him; Natalie ignored his warning, and took him in her mouth again.

She joined him on the couch again, nestled between his chest and arm, and let a hand play over his lower stomach and legs. Richie felt himself building up again already as he watched her little hands splay and span over his body. She moved to straddle him, keeping enough distance between their respective lower halves, and kissed him with wanton passion. It was enough for Richie that he scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the hallway while she wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed at his neck. His skin tasted of peppery sweat, and she thought she could make a meal out of that for the rest of her life.

“Which one?” he asked lowly, his voice husky.
“Left,” she answered quickly, still nipping and biting at his shoulder. Richie dropped her on the bed and joined her, and jerked as one little hand came to wrap around him again. She could tell he was ready, and she knew for a fact she was more than ready.
“C’mon, Richie,” she invited, looking up at him. Her voice was so soft and so pleading that Richie couldn’t deny it. He eased himself into her, feeling the warmth and tightness of her body as he did so. Natalie closed her eyes and her breathing stopped while she got used to the feel of him inside her. After a matter of seconds, they were moving together in unison.

An hour later, Richie collapsed against her, his body hot and slick to the touch. Natalie panted beneath him, draping one arm over his back and holding him to her. She couldn’t remember a night in her life like that before, which brought a laugh out of her mouth. Richie raised his head to look at her, “What’re you laughing about, down there?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.
“This,” she answered, pecking lightly at his lips.


The following morning, both Natalie and Richie were dead to the world. Richie lay asleep on his stomach, his face turned toward her’s as she lay curled next to him on her side. The sun was streaming in through the windows on either side of them, and Natalie’s cat had hopped onto the bed to paw around at their feet. A shrill ringing startled both Natalie and the cat, causing her eyes to flutter open and her body to stretch out on instinct. The body next to her shocked her, and for a moment Natalie couldn’t place who he was or how he’d come to be in her bed. But as last night’s (well, this morning’s) events settled back into her mind, she smiled secretively to herself. She looked at his face – so peaceful and so beautiful – and laughed at the way his lips were slightly parted. The ringing interrupted her thoughts again, and she got out of bed as lightly and quietly as she could.

She grabbed a shirt hanging on her bathroom doorknob and pulled it over her body as she tiptoed down the hallway. The ringing was insistent, incessant, but she couldn’t place it, and she didn’t want it waking the sleeping man in her room. Wandering into her living room, she could tell she was getting closer. She finally located the sound in Richie’s back pocket of the jeans they’d deposited on the floor earlier. She didn’t contemplate answering it, but carried it back to her bedroom with her.

She crawled back into bed next to him and put her face on the pillow next to his. “Richie,” she whispered, tapping his nose lightly. “Riiiichie,” she repeated. He groaned lowly, but he didn’t stir. She kissed his closed eyelids and took his face in her hands, “Rise and shine, boy. Someone’s trying to get a hold of you.”

The phone was ringing again, followed by beeps that she assumed meant voicemails. As her attempts at waking him failed, Natalie only chuckled to herself. He slept harder than a rock.

“C’mon, Rich. Wake up.” Her fingers danced across his chin; how she loved touching that dimple. She leaned in closely to plant a firm, longer kiss on his lips, and Richie began to respond slowly. His eyes didn’t open, but she felt him stirring as he began to return her kiss. An arm had come to pull her in closer, and Natalie laughed.

“Thought that might work. Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Richie’s eyes opened and a slow smile came over his features. “All right, all right. I’m awake, baby,” he groaned out with a stretch. She tossed his cell phone at his chest, where it rested and fell with the rise and fall of his breathing. “You take care of that, and I’m going to take a quick shower,” she said quickly, inching off the bed. She glanced back at him before she stepped into her bathroom, only to find that he, too, had been watching her.

Fifteen minutes later, Natalie emerged from the shower feeling about ten years younger. She towel dried her hair before she wrapped the towel around her body and stepped from her bathroom. She was surprised to find that Richie wasn’t in her bed where she’d left him, and she stuck her head out of the door so she could see into the living room. There was no sign of him there either. She walked down the hallway and looked around the house, wondering if he was playing a game on her. She noticed that his clothes were no longer in her floor, and her heart sank. She leaned against the wall a little sadly, mentally snapping at herself for thinking last night meant anything other than two lonely people who needed each other in that moment. She went back to her room and pulled on a pair of old jeans and a tank top, picking up the cat on her bed and carrying her back to the kitchen.

“At least I can count on you to lay around in my bed,” she teased a little sardonically. She let Daisy Boo down on the floor and grabbed a can of cat food from the cabinet. It was then that she noticed a piece of paper on her refrigerator, one that hadn’t been there before.

Natalie –

Emergency meeting, had to go. See you when I can.

- Richie

11.

“This is not working,” Jon muttered, scratching his head furiously out of frustration. Richie agreed, and was having a look over the lyrics sheet he had in front of him. “The chorus just isn’t happening, Rich,” he went on, staring down at it with thin lips. Richie read over the lyrics again and heaved a big sigh, just as the image of Natalie her son came back to his mind.

Grabbing a pen, he slid his chair closer to the table and began writing over Jon’s own handwriting. Jon watched with interest, trying to read Richie’s chickenscratch upside down. “Listen to this, man,” Richie said with excitement, grabbing his guitar. He played directly into the chorus, at which point he began to sing,

“I close my eyes and picture your hand in mine
I still hear your voice, it takes me back to that time
Where I could find a reason to be strong
Seems like lately there’s a whole lot of leavin’ going on”

Jon grabbed the lyrics sheet and sang along with Richie as he continued to loop through the chorus. After three or four runs, Richie stopped playing and both stopped singing. “I think it might work,” Jon said approvingly with a nod. He made a note of the change on another sheet of paper, and put it on a stack in the center of the table. “Where’d that come from?”

Richie’s fingers played over the strings of his (newest) guitar idly. “Natalie,” he admitted, though he didn’t meet Jon’s gaze. He knew how Jon felt about her; they’d already talked about her a few times. She was an all around impracticality, one that Jon thought was better just left alone. Even supposing she was a genuinely good girl, she was still one from Nashville. And supposing she wasn’t all around good, then Richie had no business with her.

“You gotta get away from her, man,” Jon sighed.
“I did. And the whole time I wanted to come back,” Richie confessed. He knew it was silly and rash of him, but he couldn’t help it. He’d always lived his life flying off the handle, rarely had he ever stopped to think things through. He just did it. It wasn’t until the awful turns his life had taken over the past year that he had cooled down a little bit, and he was trying, and failing, to be casual with Natalie. “Anyways,” he continued, “She showed me a picture of her kid.” Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, covered by blonde locks now. “He died a couple years back.”

Jon hadn’t looked at the song like that – as far as he was concerned, he was writing something of a love song. But Richie’s chorus turned it into something much more broad, and he liked it. “This chick is your muse now, is she?” he asked with a hint of a joke in his voice.
“Oh, you’re funny,” Richie shot back, “I don’t suppose I need to remind you how many songs you’ve written about Dorothea.”
“She’s my wife, not some girl I met in a bar.”
“Benny’s is her bar.”
”What difference does that make?”
”None,” Richie shrugged, “Just thought I’d say.”
“Look, man,” Jon said seriously, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, “I don’t know much about this girl. She seems nice enough and she can sing. And I know you dig her, I get it. But is it really worth it? I mean, just suppose she’s not all that you think she is. You don’t wanna be back in that place. And none of us want you there either. We locked those doors, Rich. All of them.” Jon’s eyes and voice had grown stern as he spoke, and Richie paid careful attention.
“I know you and the rest of the guys worry about me. But I’ve learned from past mistakes. Truly, I have. This thing – whatever it is – with Natalie isn’t like what happened with—“ he trailed off, and Jon supplied the names he knew Richie didn’t have quite the heart to say, “Heather and Denise?”
“She’s just a normal, every day, real woman. She lets me be a normal, every day, real man. She makes me feel like I could have a normal, every day, real life. Fuck, she makes me forget all the shit that’s gone down lately.”

Jon studied his friend's face for a couple of minutes and could see that he was fighting a losing battle. Richie had made up his mind about this girl, and Jon knew there’d be no changing it. All he could do was hope for the best, and be there for Richie in case of the worst.

“All right then, Sambora. You do what you gotta do. We’ll be here for you however it turns out.”

---

That night at Benny’s, Natalie was swamped. There’d been a concert down the street, and people had streamed in steadily since it let out. She had all her girls working, and she was bustling back and forth between the stage and the bar to help out wherever she could. A young boy and girl were clogging on the stage, dancing around and laughing as they went. People had begun clapping to the rhythm of their feet, making it hard for anything else to be heard in the place.

In their now characteristic cowboys hats and sunglasses, Jon and Richie watched and laughed along with the rest of the crowd. Richie decided it’d be worth a laugh and a try to get Natalie on the stage with this many people in her bar, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. There were too many people around to risk moving about and drawing attention to himself, so Richie merely got the attention of the guy in the table next to him.

“Hey buddy,” he called over the drum of feet on the floor and clapping. The guy turned just enough to offer one ear to Richie.
“I’ll give you a fifty bucks if you can get that woman over there – the little one by the bar – to sing a song.”
“You shittin' me?” the guy asked, straightening up in his seat at the offer.
“Swear it. You get her to sing one song, and I’ll give you a fifty dollars right here.”
“You got a deal, pal,” the guy said, shaking Richie’s hand. Richie took a drink of his water and grinned to himself, even Jon had to crack a smile at his friend. They watched as the guy approached Natalie, and as he pointed back at Richie. A dawning realization crossed her face, and she mouthed a nice try at Richie before turning the guy away. This young man, however, was hellbent on making his money that night, and he quickly put Plan B in motion.

In a matter of seconds, the entire bar was chanting her name. Natalie had stopped what she was doing and looked around like a deer caught in headlights. There wasn’t one face in the room that wasn’t turned to her in anticipation, begging and ordering her into the spotlight. Some people even reached out and grabbed her in effort to pull her onto the stage, and after refusing for a few minutes, she found herself standing there where the clogging couple had been.

“Well fuck, somebody’s gonna have to get me a guitar,” she laughed. She was handed one from the side – Richie recognized it as the one he’d given her – and walked back to the microphone. She looked straight at Richie and gave him her best game face, and then pounded out a riff that made the entire place erupt in yells. In the corner, it made Richie and Jon erupt in laughter.

“All you got is this moment
The twenty-first century’s yesterday
You can care all you want
Everybody does, yeah that’s okay”

She smiled mischievously as she sang, and the crowd danced around in front of her. She was obviously enjoying herself, glancing back at Jon and Richie every so often and smirking dangerously.

“So slide over here
And give me a moment
Your moves are so raw
I’ve got to let you know
I’ve got to let you know
You’re one of my kind

I need you tonight
‘Cause I’m not sleeping
There’s something about you, boy
That makes me sweat”

Blue eyes cut back to Richie, reminding Jon of how a certain Bangle tended to perform and send shivers up the spines of men across the nation.

“Oh yeah, this one’s a keeper,” he laughed, amused by her obvious song selection.

10.

Natalie hadn’t waited four seconds after coming through her door that night before she popped open the case and pulled out the guitar. It was beautiful – a custom Taylor made from sapele and mascassar ebony, or so she'd read on the slip of paper in the case. She wasted no time in sliding the strap over her shoulder and running her hands along the neck and fingerboard; she actually threw her head back and laughed out loud out of excitement as she strummed out the first few chords of an old country tune, and couldn’t wipe the giddy grin from her face.

She looked back down in the case and picked up the same slip of paper, reading all about her guitar. Another piece of paper caught her attention, and she turned her attention instead to it.

“Enjoy. You deserve it. Use it well. – Richie

PS: I expect a new song by the time I get back.”

Natalie smiled to herself again, but returned the guitar to its case. “You are getting in over your head, girl,” she warned herself. Her mind drifted back to that kiss – as amazing as it was, she knew it was nothing more than a result of being stuck in that place by themselves, and she knew it was wrong of her to kiss him like that. She grimaced a bit, hoping he didn’t think she was coming on to him simply because of who he was. She couldn’t help it – he’d invaded her thoughts, even her dreams. He had a way of sneaking into her, a way nobody since her ex-husband had managed. “Stop it. Stop it now,” she warned herself again as she rose from the floor. “There’s no use getting all wound up over someone like him.”

In an effort to push him from her mind, she grabbed a composition notebook and pen and headed out to her back porch. It was a clear, starry night and the Tenneesee air was light and cool; the water in the pool danced magically under the moonlight and lapped against the sides. She settled down into a chair, notebook in lap, and looked up at the stars. The thought came to her almost instantly, and she smiled sadly to herself as she began writing.

It was the quickest song she’d ever written, and she had to admit it was one of her favorites she’d ever penned. She hummed it to herself a few times before she began singing the lyrics, and tears rolled down her cheeks in the cover of the night.

After that evening, the weeks passed by slowly, torturously. Natalie was distracted at work, dropping glasses and not hearing people when they spoke to her. Richie was distracted himself, but had grown so accustomed to the feeling that he was able to perform with relative ease. It was when he had free time that he grew restless, mentally kicking himself for not getting a number from her before he left town. Natalie had made a habit of reading the note he’d left her on a daily basis; she’d even taken to carrying it around in her back pocket. Richie, on the other hand, had nothing to remember her by but the idea of her in his mind. He’d occasionally pull that out and go over her face, her laugh, her tiny little hands…

The end of the month couldn’t have come soon enough. Richie was at the airport early, itching to get back to the east coast. He knew he was being stupid, reckless even. He was playing with fire with this woman, but he had no intentions of turning away from it. From an idealistic point of view, it all had to mean something, right? That there was a reason he couldn’t get her out of his mind? From a realistic point of view, he was fairly certain he was starting something he shouldn’t be.

Anxiously, Richie didn’t even go by the hotel he was staying at when he touched down in Nashville. He had his bags sent over straight away, and he headed for Benny’s. The place was empty, and he walked up the main window and peered through. He saw that all the chairs were resting on the tables and the lights were off, but someone was moving around in there. He rapped lightly on the window, and the person inside stopped sweeping the floor and turned around. It was a young girl, one he hadn’t seen there before.

“Sorry,” he read on her lips as she walked to the window. She pointed to the sign on the door which read ‘closed.’ He hadn’t even thought about that, the bar didn’t open until the evening.
“Do you know where I can find Natalie?” he asked loudly, trying to enunciate as much as he could. The girl’s expression told him she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Natalie,” he repeated. “She works here.” The girl shook her head and mouthed another apology before she returned to her work. Richie swore under his breath and turned around, running a frustrated hand over his chin. He stared down the road, waiting for a new idea that just wasn’t coming to him.
“You’re lookin for Nat?” someone asked, causing Richie to whirl around. It was the girl with glasses, the one he’d spoken to that first night.
“Yeah, do you know where I can find her?”
”Sure. She lives down on Elliot road.”
“Where’s that?”
”If you wanna find her, I guess you’ll figure it out,” came the cryptic, teasing response. The woman winked and walked past Richie to the door; she waved at the girl inside, who came forward to let her in.
"Women," he muttered miserably, shaking his head and working out a new plan in his mind.

It took him two sets of verbal directions and one trip to MapQuest before Richie had an idea of where he was going. Her house was pretty far out of town, but he enjoyed the drive there. The countryside was beautiful, and the wind blew the grass like it was ocean. When he saw the Elliot road sign, he smiled in his rearview mirror as he made the turn.

It was an old dirt road, and he could see her house a little ways down the road. As he neared the house, he could see her in the front yard. She evidently heard the car coming down the road, because she stopped whatever she was doing and straightened up, one hand over her forehead to shield the sun. She recognized him in the driver’s seat, and broke out into that smile of her’s.

Pulling into the driveway, Richie stopped the car and stepped out. He could see now that she’d been gardening, and she had dirt smudged across her face and hands. Her cheeks were red and bits of her hair were sticking to them, but Richie was sure he hadn’t seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Hey there,” she said, still smiling.
“You’re a hard woman to track down, know that?”
“All you had to do was ask. What are you doing here?”

Richie realized he didn’t have an answer. He had no idea what he was doing there, other than looking at her. Rather than make up some dumb story, he just shrugged and stepped closer to her.

“Came to see you.”
“Well. Here I am. You see me,” she answered, grinning even broader now. God, he’s addicting, she thought.
“I went to the bar. You weren’t there.”
“We don’t open until tonight,” she chuckled. Richie admired her work around the house, knowing she didn’t have a husband around to do it.
“Well what am I supposed to do until then?” he asked hopefully, his eyes daring her to turn him away.
“Well that depends a great deal on what you want to do until then."
“Don’t tempt me, baby,” he laughed.
“Come on in. I’ll rinse off and we’ll see if we can’t figure something out.”

He followed her into the house through an old screen door, and the smell of it enveloped him. It smelled fresh and clean, definitely a woman’s house.

“You can go ahead and make yourself at home,” she offered with a gesture toward the living room, “I’ll be back in one second.”

Natalie scampered off down the hallway, and Richie heard the shut of what he assumed was a bedroom door. He wandered over to her fireplace and took a look at the pictures lining the mantle. He smiled to himself at childhood pictures of her; she really hadn’t changed all that much. Her hair was longer then, and lighter too. The smile faded when he saw a picture he knew had to be her and Luke at their high school graduation; they looked happy, in love. Moving aside another picture, he saw one that caught his interest.

Natalie was sitting on the beach, her blue eyes shining and almost alien like against the red tint of her skin. There was a little boy nestled in her lap, and they were both laughing. Her arms were wrapped around him, and his head was resting against her chest. They had the same eyes, the same smile, the same dimples. Richie knew he had to be her’s, and he wondered why she hadn’t mentioned him; Ava always managed to creep her way into his conversations on a daily basis.

“That’s better,” came her voice behind him, startling him. He turned to look at her; she’d changed into shorts and a simple t-shirt, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail.
“Where’s this little man?” he asked with a smile, pulling the picture frame down in his hands. Natalie joined him at his side and took it from him, running a hand along the boy’s face.
“He’s gone,” she said simply, and Richie looked down at her with confusion in his face. Natalie knew there was no way he could have possibly understood, so she explained. “He died when he was four. He had leukemia.”

Richie’s heart and face sank at the succinct and numb way she’d said it. He felt like a pile of worthless shit, having brought it up.

“Jesus, Natalie. I’m sorry—“
”No, it’s all right. You didn’t know.”
“What was his name?” Richie asked softly, stroking her back lightly. Natalie returned the picture to its proper place and smiled at it.
“Benny,” she answered, and Richie heard the joy in her voice at saying his name. “Well, Bennett. We always called him Benny.”
“Like the—“
”Yeah. Like the bar," she finished. "I’m not just a bartender there. I own the place,” she explained. Richie hadn’t even considered that, and he was a little surprised. It felt inappropriate, though, to dwell on that after she’d just told him she had a dead son. She sensed how uncomfortable he was and shook her head at him.
“Richie, it’s fine,” she insisted, offering him the most reassuring smile she could find.
“How long did you know?” he asked a little awkwardly.
“We found out when he was a little over a year old. The doctor was hopeful, as were Luke and I. I didn’t tell you the whole truth that night in the car. We got a divorce because he walked out one morning and didn’t look back, never even called. He couldn’t handle the stress of a sick child, I guess. Benny fought. He really did, he fought so hard for three years. I took him all over the place trying to get treatment and help. He made it longer than any of us expected him to. He was so strong…so strong for such a little person.”

Like his mother, Richie thought.

“I just can’t imagine what it’s like…”
”I hope you never have to,” Natalie cut him off. Richie realized it was her way of telling him it was okay that he’d asked, but that it wasn’t something she wanted to speak about for a prolonged period of time. “C’mon, can I get you something to drink?”

Natalie pulled him into the kitchen and away from the heartwrenching picture. Richie’s mind wandered to Ava, and he got a knot in his throat just thinking about what he’d do if something ever happened to her. He remembered the day she’d woken up with an unusually high fever, and the panic it had sent him and Heather into.

“You write that song yet?” he asked, trying to get his mind on something he knew more about.
“Yep. Wrote it that first night, actually.”
“Any good?” he asked, impressed.
“I like it,” she said with a nod and a shrug as she moved around the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes to get something from the cabinet, and Richie grinned at her efforts. He rose from the table and moved in place behind her.
“What’re you reaching for, darling?” he asked, looking up at the cabinet. She pointed at some coffee bags, and Richie pulled them down for her.
“Thanks.”
”No problem. I’ll make the coffee, you go get that guitar and play that song of your’s.”

Natalie hesitated, not because she was nervous to play but because she was unsure of what Richie would think. She could see how uncomfortable the story of her little boy had made him, and she was pretty sure the song would as well.

“No stalling, get in there.”

No didn’t seem to be an option, so she grabbed her guitar and wandered back into the kitchen. “Promise not to go all weird on me?” she asked, propping up one leg on a chair. Richie nodded like it was nothing and turned back to his coffee.

“We camped out on the living room floor
In our old sleeping bag by a make believe fire
In a tent made of covers, we talked for hours
My little boy and me
Keeping the faith, racing with destiny.

He was an angel in waiting
Waiting for wings to fly from this world
Away from his pain
Treasuring time, ‘til time came to leave
Leaving behind sweet memories
Angel in waiting, angel in waiting for wings

He always knew he’d never grow old
Sometimes the body is weaker than the soul.
In his darkest hour, I made a promise
I will always keep
I’ll give him life, I’ll let him live through me.”

She sang and played the chorus twice more, her voice strong and clear. Richie had turned around to watch her, and she smiled as she sang this time. When he looked at her now, he saw the little boy from the picture in her face. He imagined she had to have been an amazing mother, and his throat tightened at the thought of having to go through all of that alone. Her mind was so far away that she didn’t even see him when he walked over to her to stand behind her again, and he placed a soft kiss on her neck as she finished.

“Beautiful,” he said simply. Natalie smiled and put the guitar on the table before she turned to him.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s my favorite.”
”You shouldn’t be playing in that bar, you know.”
”I like my bar.”
”I like it too. But it’s selfish of you to keep these songs to yourself.”
“Nevermind that. Let’s take our coffee out back,” she interrupted, obviously trying to avoid the subject. Richie dropped it for now; he understood that not everybody was cut out for his line of work. He lived off of big crowds, loved hearing them shouting his words back at him. Some people…just didn’t.

As they stepped outside, Richie realized the vastness of her yard. It, literally, was huge. She settled down in a swing by the pool and motioned for Richie to join her.

“You like livin out here all by yourself?” he asked, his eyes still scanning around. He didn’t see another house for miles.
“Mhm. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Nobody bothers me unless I want them to,” she laughed.
“You don’t get scared?”
“Of what? The trees? This ain’t Los Angeles. Stuff happens, sure, but people ‘round here tend to get along all right…for the most part, anyway.”

Conversation came easily for the pair of them for the better part of an hour; they talked about everything from their pasts, music, movies, politics, everything. Richie found her to be exactly what he’d expected of her – religious and conservative. She wasn’t pompous about it though; she didn’t put down his own views. She did challenge him intellectually, and they’d spent a fair amount of time going back and forth on the current President and state of affairs. The conversation was only interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing inside. Natalie’s head turned in that direction and she sighed; nobody ever called her until she was in a position to not speak.

“Guess I better go grab that,” she announced, pushing down on her own legs as she stood up. Richie seized an opportunity, one that caught Natalie by surprise and sent her hurtling into the pool, arms flailing and mouth wide open. When she surfaced, Richie was standing waist deep in water in front of her, laughing loudly and shaking water from his hair. Natalie sputtered a little water and splashed at him.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she gasped out incredulously. Her mouth was hanging open but curled into a smile, and Richie delighted in the way her shirt was clinging to her chest.
“I had to…couldn’t resist.”
“Well, the joke’s on you all the same. I’ve got clothes to change into. You’re stuck,” she pointed out, sticking out her tongue. She had a point, one Richie had thought about. Oh well.
“They’ll dry,” he shrugged, pulling her to him. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got spectacular eyes?” he asked, looking down at her. Natalie broke into a broad grin, keeping her eyes on his face.
“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got awful lines?” she teased.
“It’s happened once or twice. But you really do,” he said, bringing up a hand to brush wet hair back from her face. Natalie thought it a sweet gesture until the other hand came up from behind and dunked her under the water. Richie heard her yelling before she even surfaced again.

“Son of a bitch, Richie. I’m gonna kill you,” she squealed, chasing after him.

09.

On the plane, Richie couldn’t help but replay the scene in his head. How out of nowhere she’d been close enough to his face that he could feel her eyelashes. How her lips felt as she’d smiled against his own and how her eyes danced when she laughed. Jon was dozing off next to him, and Richie wished he too could drift off into slumber. Every time he got close, however, her face hurtled back into the forefront of his mind. There was just something about her, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. He recalled the first time he’d seen her – she wasn’t anything special to him. It wasn’t until he’d spent those first few nights with her, watching her interact with people, that she’d interested him. There was no other way to describe her but infectious; if he had to guess, maybe it was a Southern thing. Either way, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. In a span of a few weeks, she’d wormed her way under his skin. He’d been careful about women since his very painful, very public split with his wife and the following girlfriend. But this one – Natalie – she was different. She didn’t seem dangerous. In fact, she seemed safe. She seemed normal. She seemed like everything he could ever need.

“Stoppit,” Jon said so suddenly that Richie almost spilled the drink he had in his left hand.
“Stop what?” he asked, blinking in bewilderment.
“Thinking. Analyzing. Relax, man.”
”I wasn’t. You were sleeping.”
”Resting my eyes,” Jon corrected, “And you think I gotta see you to know when something’s bothering you?” he asked. “Spill it.”

Richie sighed, knowing better than to try to wriggle his way out of this one. There was no hiding anything from Jon, as annoying as it was sometimes.

“I can’t stop thinking about her, man,” Richie admitted, feeling as if he should launch into an immediate explanation for something he didn't even quite understand himself. He was a grown man; he had every right to be attracted to a woman. And he’d had more than his fair share of women, so why was it so hard to talk about this one?

Jon groaned and rolled his head back on his seat. “Rich, man. I told you. She’s young. Leave her alone.”
“I know, I know. But she’s a mature thirty-three years, Jon. There’s something about her…”
“What is it this time?” Jon asked, rolling his head around to look at him.
“I don’t know. She’s different. She’s…” Richie paused, searching for a word. Rather than supply him with one of his own, Jon let Richie’s mind search. “…warm,” Richie finished, aware that it sounded strange. “She’s normal…safe. There’s no pretense with her, you know? She smiles. She doesn’t make a big deal out of my job. She lets me be normal, too. She’s smooth and easygoing. She’s like…summertime.”

Jon stared at his friend, and raised one hand. “Before we go further with this conversation, we gotta remember that – that something like summertime thing. Secondly, you’ve known her for..what, Rich, a couple of days?”
“Weeks,” Richie corrected, though it had hardly been over a month.
“Right. You don’t know this woman. I mean…she sings in a bar for Christ sakes. Is that the kind of woman you really need?” Jon asked, but he knew it was stupid as he said it. Maybe someone like that was exactly what Richie needed, something other than a blonde haired, blue eyed actress.
“Hell if I know. When do I ever know what I need? I know what I want, and right now I want her.”

08.

Natalie didn’t expect Richie to make an appearance that following Friday night – both because it would be crowded and because of how they’d last departed. She was surprised, then, to see his looming figure in her doorway while she was setting things up in the front. Whether he was there or not, she was a woman of her word; she’d told him she would sing one of her songs that night, and she intended to follow through. She realized a few seconds later that in his right hand he held a guitar case with a big bow over it. Natalie smiled at him, a grin he returned as he made his way to the stage; a few people glanced at him, but accepted him as one of their own. Jon had followed in behind him, though he had remained in the back rather than venture forward.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Richie said with a wink and a quick kiss on her cheek before he joined Jon at what was becoming their usual table. Natalie’s eyes followed him, and from the stage she could see Jon give her a reassuring nod and a thumbs up as well. As if performing her own song wasn’t enough pressure, she had to do it with one half of her favorite bands sitting in the room with her.

She settled onto the stool, pivoting her hips to slide back onto it, and Richie watched her intently. He could tell she was nervous by the way she kept licking her lips and taking deep breaths like she was trying to steady herself. The chatter in the bar was dying down as people turned to watch her, and Natalie positioned her fingers on the guitar.

“Sunday dress hangin on the bedroom door
Empty bottle of wine on the hardwood floor
Last night, he said she was the one
Oh, but men and mascara…always run.”

A few of the women in the bar nodded their heads and raised their glasses at her in agreement, and Natalie flashed a sort of sad smile at them. Her eyes wandered briefly back to Jon and Richie, and Richie lifted the guitar case high enough for her to see it. A genuine smile came across her face, and Natalie got the message. She continued to play, but with more conviction now, and she put confidence in her voice. The music was swelling, and Natalie was rocking back and forth with it.

“She ain’t getting’ any younger
It wasn’t supposed to be this way
Starin in the mirror
With little black rivers runnin down her face…”

The music was softer now, and Natalie’s eyes had closed as they so often did as she played. It was a habit that bothered Jon, but mesmerized Richie; she looked so at peace. When she opened her mouth again, her voice was soft, almost a whisper.

“Tomorrow’s gonna be a brand new day
She’ll wake up in the morning an’ wash it all away
Last night, he said she was the one
Oh, but men and mascara…they always run.”

When Natalie put a hand over the strings to silence the echoes of her guitar, she smiled and laughed lightly in the microphone. Everyone clapped for her, and she grabbed the microphone to thank the crowd and introduce the night’s real act. Everyone cheered for them as well as they took the stage, and Natalie bounced down from it and over to where Richie and Jon sat.

“A deal’s a deal,” Richie said with a broad smile, handing her the case. Jon had risen from the table as well, and pulled Natalie in for a hug.
“You did great, baby,” he congratulated, rubbing her back as he hugged. Natalie was beside herself, the exhilaration of performing one of her own songs overwhelming her.
“Well thank you,” she said modestly, accepting the case from Richie as he offered it to her. “He had to bribe me to get me to do it.”
”So I heard,” Jon laughed, looking back at Richie. Richie shrugged and laughed, “Well it worked, dinnit? Anyway, we just stopped by for your debut. We gotta head out.”

The smile died from Natalie’s face, clearly not ready for them – mainly Richie – to leave. There was cause for celebration. Well, in her eyes there was. She doubted they were as impressed or enthused, but that was beside the point.

“Where are you going?” she asked, pushing the hair away from her face.
“Got a break coming up. We’re heading up LA to record some stuff for a friend,” Jon answered, shifting his weight.
“Sounds like fun,” Natalie answered, not missing a beat, but Richie read the disappointment in her eyes.
“We’ll be back around the end of the month,” Richie supplied, knowing what was on her mind. “You owe me that dinner, and I plan on holding you to it.”
“Guess I better get my ass to a grocery store then, huh?” she laughed. Richie and Jon both smiled and gave her a tight before they left. On their way out, a couple of women were coming in. She saw the way all five of them did double takes at Richie and Jon, looking at each other with wide eyes. Natalie laughed at the exchange between the lot of them, and as she passed by, one of them seized her by the arm.
“Was that Bon Jovi?” she asked, her voice incredulous.
“Who? Those guys?” she asked, her eyes going to the window they were walking past. The women all nodded.
“Oh,” Natalie laughed in show, “Nah. Truckers. Stopped by to see some friends,” Natalie explained. The women seemed to buy it, their faces and stances falling. “Sorry to spoil the night,” Natalie added, swatting playfully at the girl’s arm. She smiled and shrugged, and she and her friends found a spot down in front.

07.

Luke hadn’t been back to the bar, much to Natalie’s relief; he seemed to have gotten the message of her song loud and clear. Though to her slight annoyance and displeasure, Richie hadn’t been back either. Or Jon, for that matter. She wondered if their work in Nashville was finished, as one of them had been in the bar nearly every night that first week. It had been five days since either entered, and she caught herself keeping a watchful eye on the door. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed to admit she had a schoolgirl crush on Richie. Honestly, who wouldn’t? But regardless of the fact that he was a famed guitarist and singer, he seemed like a good guy. As she watched the door for him, she found that she wasn’t really looking for one half of Bon Jovi; she was looking for the man she’d spent half a night parked in car with eating greasy food and talking like teenagers.

“Get a hold of yourself, girl,” Natalie whispered to herself, tearing her eyes away from the door.
“Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, you know” came a deep and familiar voice behind her. Natalie turned and saw the shadowed figure of Richie settled into a chair by the back door.
“Sorry, my mama always told me not to talk to strangers,” she quipped with a big smile as she dumped glasses from a table into a square bucket.
“Smart woman.”

”How’d you sneak in here?”

”Been watching for me, have you?” Richie asked coyly, and Natalie flushed furiously at having implicated herself.
“You singers are all the same,” she taunted in attempt to turn the tables, “So damn cocky.”
“With good reason, baby,” he boasted, wearing the devilish smile she had come to know.
“Oh, I’ll just bet,” Natalie retorted, taking a pad out of her back pocket. “Can I get you anything, or are you just here for the entertainment?” she asked, remembering the conversation from that first night.
“Surprise me,” he answered, leaning back in his chair. Natalie turned and headed for the front, grabbing a glass as she went. She remembered what he’d ordered with his meal all those nights ago, and returned with a glass of the same.
“Excellent,” Richie said, taking it from her and swallowing half the glass down. “What time do you get off tonight?” he asked, licking his lips. It was impossibly hard for Natalie not to stare at them.
“About half an hour from now,” she answered, hitting her phone so the display screen lit up and revealed the time. “Why?”
“I wanna show you something,” he answered cryptically.

He seemed oddly satisfied by the confusion and interest on her face. Natalie knew he wasn’t going to tell her what it was, so she just nodded and went back to work. She made it a point not to worm her way back over to where Richie was seated, but she knew he’d caught her glancing back at him more than once. Richie sat through countless bad jokes and attempts at humor; Martha was back on stage. He was about to doze off when Natalie appeared at his side, one hand on her hip.

“Now you can’t go and fall asleep on me yet, old man,” she teased, and Richie cracked one eye at her.
“I can do whatever I damn well want, sweetheart.”
“Not in my bar you can’t,” she quipped, daring him to argue more.
“I believe that sign says this bar is Benny’s.”
“All the same, it’s more my bar than it is your’s,” she countered.
“Christ. You southern women are so damn stubborn,” Richie commented as he stood. He put a hand on the small of Natalie’s back to guide her out the backdoor, the same he’d come in not an hour or so earlier. She was so tiny that his hand looked strangely out of proportion against her back. Natalie took his comment as more of a compliment than an insult, and smiled slyly to herself. She saw his car packed in the back and headed for it, but Richie whistled at her. She stopped and looked at him, noticing that he was a good couple of feet behind her and going around the bar.

“This way,” he instructed. Natalie had to skip a little to catch up, falling into stride along side him. Her short little legs took two steps in the time he took one.
“Why are we walking?” she asked.
“Why not? It’s not that far.”

”Okay then, where are we going?”
“Surprise.”
“Gimme a hint,” she ordered playfully. Richie looked down at her and saw that she was smiling, biting down on her lower lip like she’s positively burst from something. She was unusually pretty by the lights of the city, he noticed; her face was young and full of life, but her eyes were wise beyond their years. He’d noticed them in the car that night. Crystal blue and big, they beckoned him in like he guessed they’d called plenty before him. He’d watched as they’d dulled from a bright, happy blue to a dull gray as she spoke of the man that’d broken her heart so badly.
“What are you looking at?” she giggled, looking around at their surroundings.
“You’re like a little kid, you know that?”

Natalie didn’t answer, somewhat amused and somewhat stung by his words. She wasn’t setting out to seduce him, but she didn’t like feeling like a baby to him either. A light rain had begun to fall, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Neither Natalie nor Richie were all that worried about it, as the storm still sounded far away. She tugged at her the ends of her hair in attempts to flatten it, but the rain that was coming down on them was causing it to curl into a tangled mess.

“Nothing wrong with being like a kid,” she argued. “Being an adult is pretty overrated.”
“Nothing at all,” Richie agreed, shaking his head. He reached out to her elbow and pulled her up to a building, and Natalie’s body tensed at his touch. Richie noticed it, but said nothing.

“What is this place?” she asked, having never been to it before. She craned her neck to look at the board above the door, but she couldn’t make out the name.
“It’s a studio,” he answered. Richie pulled out his keys and unlocked the door, stepping aside to allow her to step in first. It was dark, and Natalie hovered in the entryway. She’d never been one for going into dark, empty places first.
“Big baby,” Richie snarked, flipping on the lights. He caught her sticking her tongue out at him, though she’d pulled it back in her mouth the second he turned around to her.
“C’mon, we’re going in here,” Richie instructed, jerking his head at a different door he was now unlocking. Natalie followed him into a small, cramped room with a grand piano and a couple of guitars. Papers were lying around everywhere, as were jackets and empty water bottles and cans.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, looking down at the papers on the table. Most were filled with illegible markings and scribblings, but a few were very clean and neat looking with clear titles and music. She realized these were probably the songs he and Jon were working on, and she felt her stomach do flips. She was getting an inside look – whether Richie intended her to or not – at one of her favorite band’s new material. Richie turned around and caught her looking at the papers and laughed; he grabbed them out from under her nose and stuck them in a file cabinet drawer.
“Ah ah ah. No peeking, babes,” he scolded. Natalie shrugged and smirked, as if he should have known it was coming.
“So then why’d you bring me here?” she asked, flopping down into one of the chairs. Her eyes drifted down to a couple of guitars, and she wondered how much they cost.
“Little testing, demo sorta thing,” Richie answered, settling into the seat across from her and pulling a guitar into his lap. Natalie’s heart did another jump. No way was Richie fucking Sambora going to play right there in front of her. He strummed his fingers across the strings a few times, and Natalie was practically squirming in her seat in anticipation. “I want you to hear a song we’re working on, and then I want you to play one of your’s.”
“There’s always gotta be a catch, huh?” she asked, but refusing was not an option. He could have told he she was going to gnaw off her left arm and then he’d play a song for her, and she might have done it.
“You know it. Now shut up and let me play.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Natalie shut her mouth and watched him warm up and tune the guitar before he settled into rhythm. She couldn’t help but grin like a goon as he played, the whole thing an insanely surreal but magical experience. Natalie had only seen them perform live once when she was just a young thing, and here she was being treated to a private preview of one of their new songs. It wasn’t until Richie got to the chorus that Natalie realized there was a reason Richie was playing this particular song.

“It’s okay to be a little broken
Everybody’s broken in this life
It’s okay to feel a little broken
Everybody’s broken, you’re all right
It’s all right, it’s just life”

The words and the power of the song literally nearly brought tears to her eyes. The fact that he was singing this – of all songs – to her made her heart heavy. Here was someone she hadn’t known for even a month, and he was telling her exactly what she’d needed to hear for years. She listened quietly until he finished, and when he looked up expectantly at her, she had nothing to say. She opened her mouth a couple of times to speak, but words seem to fail her. There was no way to explain what had just gone through her brain. A loud boom of thunder jerked her back to reality just as lightning flooded in through the window.

“I really am speechless,” she admitted through a laugh. “That’s never happened before.”
“It was good, then?” he asked, and Natalie sensed he was asking if she’d gotten the message.
“It was perfect,” she answered with a nod, at which time he handed the guitar over to her.
“Good. Now it’s your turn.”

”But I don’t have a song..” she started to argue, but Richie raised a hand and silenced her.
“Everybody’s got a song,” Richie argued, “It’s a matter of who has the balls to play it.”

Natalie studied him for a minute, her heart beating fast at the prospect of playing one of her own songs. She licked her lips and inhaled sharply as she positioned herself over the guitar.

“Fine, but don’t look at me,” she said shyly. She glanced up at him to find his eyes still on her and laughed, “I’m serious. You make me nervous.”

”Why? I’m just one person.”

”…who happens to be one of greatest guitar players still living,” Natalie added.
“Hey, you said it…not me,” Richie grinned, but he could tell that Natalie was serious. He sighed and made a display of closing his eyes for her, and Natalie began her song.

“You have a way of coming easily to me
And when you take, you take the very best of me
So I start a fight ‘cause I need to feel somethin’
And you do what you want, ‘cause I’m not what you wanted..
Oh, what a shame
What a rainy ending given to a perfect day
Just walk away, no use defending words you’ll never say
And now that I’m sittin here thinking it through
I’ve never been anywhere as cold as you…”

The song was slow and the melody haunting, and Richie went back on his word and opened his eyes to watch her as she sang. Her eyes were fixed on a point on the floor, and she didn’t seem aware that he was in the room anymore.

“You put up walls and paint them all a shade of gray
And I stood there loving you and wished them all away
And you come away with a great little story
Of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you.
You never did give a damn thing, honey
But I cried, cried for you
And I know you wouldn’t have told nobody
If I’d died, died for you..”

The song went on for the better half of ten minutes, and Richie realized halfway through that she was just playing and had stopped singing. He watched her with interest, watched how she swayed with the music and watched as the emotion passed across her face. The arrangement of the song was simple, so simple that Richie had picked it up before she’d finished the first chorus. He picked up another guitar and began playing along with her, jerking Natalie from whatever reverie she was in. She watched his fingers in wonder as they played out her chords, and she eventually stopped playing to watch him.

“Finish the song, baby,” he instructed with an encouraging nod. Natalie, the color and heat evident in her cheeks, rested against the guitar and sang the rest of her song while he played, though her voice was softer and shakier now that she remembered she was being watched. When Richie could see that Natalie was finished singing, he stopped playing.

“Now see? That’s a fucking song.”

Richie returned his guitar back to the stand while Natalie laughed and blushed furiously again, dropping her face.
”Why don’t you like singing for people?” he asked as he turned back to her.
“Shy, I guess.”

”What for? People obviously like what you do.” Natalie laughed and handed the guitar in her arms back to him as well. “A couple of drunk guys don’t count.”

”I’m not a drunk guy, and I liked your song.”
“You’re being nice.”

”Shit. Do you know me? If I don’t like something, I’ll fucking say it. Don’t worry about that,” Richie laughed.
“Well. I’m shy all the same. I clam up.”
“See, I don’t think so. I think you clam up when you’re not singing. You open up when you are.”
“It’s harder for people who don’t play amazing riffs…and dance around in tight leather…with perfect hair…and perfect faces…and millions of girls screaming for them.”
“Jon would kill you if he heard you say that.”

”Well then I guess it’s a good thing he wasn’t here to hear it then, huh?”
“I’ll make you a deal..” Richie began, reclining in his chair again.
“What’s that?” Natalie asked, tapping her feet on the floor.
“You sing one of your own songs at Benny’s Friday night, and I’ll…” he trailed off, working out the details of his little plan.
“You’ll what?” Natalie asked, already pretty sure she was going to refuse it.

”I’ll give you a guitar,” Richie said with a shrug. “Your pick. As long as you promise you’ll use it in front of people, singing your own songs.”

Richie had hit her in a sore spot. Her eyes trailed over to the collection of guitars in the room – they were absolutely beautiful. She walked over to them and fingered the necks, biting her lip and going over the pros and cons of the situation. Richie stood up and crossed to the guitars as well, tapping absently on one of them.
”C’mon, what’ve you got to lose?” he offered, leaning haughtily against the wall. Natalie forgot what she was considering as she took in the sight of him. She was treading on dangerous ground with him, and she knew it.
“Dignity?” she answered lamely, turning away from Richie and pretending to admire another guitar up close and personal.
“You’ll be fine. What if I promise to let you cook me dinner too?” Richie teased, earning him the saucy look he’d become used to receiving from her. A loud roar of thunder shook the floor beneath their feet, and a crack of lightning preceded the entire room going pitch black. Natalie let out a little squeal of mingled surprise and fear, and she jumped up so quickly she nearly toppled over. Richie was ready for it, however, and an arm shot out to catch and steady her around the waist. Lightning flashed again and lit up the room, and Natalie froze in Richie’s grasp.


“Not a fan of thunderstorms, I take it?” he asked with a lopsided grin.
“No,” she answered, shaking her head breathlessly. “Hated them ever since I was a kid,” she admitted.
“You really are a big baby,” he picked, guiding her back over to the seats they’d previously occupied. “Well, it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere for a little while. Whose bright idea was it to walk here anyway?”

Natalie curled into the seat like a cat, and Richie felt a little bad for her. He liked thunderstorms himself, and recalled a couple of concerts that’d taken place right in the middle of a few storms. There’d been one that couldn’t have been any better if they’d mapped it out by the second. Mother Nature seemed to be shining down on them that night; the lightning and thunder had actually kept in rhythm with the songs. He recalled with wonder the moment Jon had dropped to the stage on his knees while singing I’ll Be There For You, just as lightning cracked and thunder rolled.

“You’re the guitar expert. Pick me out a good one. And if I like it, I’ll cook you dinner,” Natalie relented almost in effort to get her mind on a conversation rather than the storm. Richie grinned and tapped his fingers idly against the arm of his chair. “Excellent,” he said with a nod.
“And then I’ll play my song,” she added, obviously trying to sneak that last little detail in.
“Oh no. Doesn’t work that way, babe. You play the song. Then you get the guitar. And I get dinner.”
”Well how come you get the best end of the deal?” she pouted.
“Because I’m clearly smarter than you are,” he teased, earning a playful pinch on his arm.
“You hush,” she ordered.
”Or what? Gonna make me?”
”If I have to.”

Richie liked that Natalie didn’t back down from him. She played with and challenged him, not seeming to care that he’d sold millions of records and had more than his fifteen minutes in the spotlight. Hell, he’d had more than fifteen years.

“I’m a rebel, baby. I don’t do what I’m told.”
“Yeah?” she asked, quirking a brow at him.
“Nah. It’d kill the image, you see.”
”Is that so?”

Richie opened his mouth to speak, but Natalie had covered it with her’s. Richie’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t pull away. It’d been a while since he’d kissed someone, and he’d all but forgotten how it felt. With her being so close, he could smell the faint scent of her perfume and shampoo, mingled with the lingering smells of her work at the bar. It was oddly intoxicating, and Richie was sad to feel her pull away from him.

“What was that?” Natalie asked, but Richie’s mind had clouded over so that he couldn’t think of an answer, or even a question. “Oh, that’s right. That was Richie shutting up.”

Natalie grinned impishly, mischievously. Richie sensed that she was a tease, and a damn good one. As she pulled away from him, he brought two hands to her arms and pulled her back to him. Her mouth was open in shock, but she didn’t resist. Richie kissed her harder this time, ready for it, and he felt her body relax in his grip. He felt her shifting around, climbing from her chair and into his. She smiled against his lips, followed by a small laugh.

Richie dipped his head back and opened his eyes, “Not quite the response I usually get.”
Natalie laughed louder now, shaking her head. “Sorry. Nevermind.”

Richie didn’t need to be told twice, and their lips met again. She brought a hand to his cheek this time, and then ran her fingers lightly along his jawline until she reached his chin. Her thumb found the little dimple at its center, and she rubbed it slightly. Breaking the kiss only for a second, she looked at him with an innocent grin.

“Always wanted to do that,” she explained, before she went back in for another go round. Richie’s hand was wrapped around her delicate neck, and he delighted at how small it felt against his hands. She was like a little doll, tiny and perfect. His other hand traveled down along her side, and it was his turn to grin when he felt the muscles in her stomach tighten as his fingertips trailed her sides. “Someone’s ticklish,” he laughed, as Natalie squirmed on his lap. The movement was enough to jerk Richie back into reality of where he was and with whom. He stopped kissing her, his hands resting on her hips. Natalie, too, pulled back, looking at him with concern.

“I think that’s enough,” he said with finality, and Natalie felt heat bubble in her stomach. She immediately felt like she’d done something wrong as she slid from his lap, licking her lips and carefully avoiding meeting his gaze. Almost as if on cue, the lights flickered back on and Natalie could see Richie's face again. He didn't look angry or upset with her, but he was studying her face carefully. She stood up and reached for her pocketbook, feeling painfully awkward now given what had just happened.

"I'm really sorry," she managed, "I shouldn't have done that. I'll see you around..."

She went for the door and wrenched it open, wanting to throw herself down the stairs. Jesus. What had she been thinking? She didn't just kiss people, particularly...him. Richie was on her heels like a puppy, grabbing a little wrist to spin her back around.

"Hey, you don't have to apologize. It wasn't wrong," he said with a grin. His eyes were dancing and made Natalie feel even more uncomfortable.
"Well, it wasn't right either."
"Yeah but you liked it," he teased, now walking down the stairs with her.
"You are such a smartass," she said honestly, both annoyed and amused at the light he was making of the situation.
"You keep telling me that. C'mon, I'll walk you back to your car."

06.

*Note: Happy fourth of July & yay for filler chapters!*

The following day, Richie and Jon were back in the studio. Jon had returned with even more ideas than he’d left with, and he passed several notes over to Richie. Studying over them, Richie rubbed the back of his neck.

“Damn, Jon. This stuff is deep.”
”That’s the idea, you dumb fuck,” Jon laughed, taking them back. “So I take it that’s a yes?”
”That’s a hell yes, son,” Richie said loudly, leaning forward in his chair and laughing loudly. Jon grabbed Richie’s guitar and passed it over to him, taking a seat himself at the piano in the corner of the room.
“Well then, let’s see what happens,” he said, placing his hands over the keys and starting to play. Richie listened for a few minutes, getting a feel for what Jon was playing and glancing down at the lyrics sheet in front of him. After a few moments, Richie had joined in on the song and paused only briefly every so often to make a note of something on a piece of paper in front of him.

About two hours later, Jon was satisfied with the version of the song they had cranked out. They’d done a couple of rewrites and alterations, and Richie thought the song would be a hit on both country and pop stations. Jon stood from the piano and stretched, yawning widely. He dragged his feet across the room back to where Richie still sat, taking a drink of his water.

“How’s Romeo?” Richie asked, spinning the cap back onto his bottle.
“A boy,” Jon laughed, “Thinks his cast is the coolest thing in the world. How’s Ava?”
”Good, she’s good. She’s getting tall, I swear her legs are nine feet long.”
“I hear you,” Jon laughed, sitting down across from Richie and leaning back on its hind legs. “You get in last night?”
“Yeah. Wrote some stuff on the plane. Headed for Benny’s when I got here.”
”What for?” Jon asked, bringing his chair back down to all fours.
“I like it,” Richie answered, ignoring Jon’s inquiring look, “It’s quiet. I can think.”
”And it's not about the bartender?” Jon finished for him with a somewhat troubled look.
“Well, she’s good. You shoulda heard her last night, man. She really ripped this jackass a new one. Sang a song where the chorus said fuck you over and over,” he laughed.
“You realize you’re nearly twenty-years older than her, right?”
“Woah,” Richie started, raising his hands again, “There’s a big difference between fifty-three and forty-eight. I just like to watch her - hear her - sing.”

Jon was not convinced; Richie had a habit of chasing after younger women. Richie saw the look of concern on Jon’s face, and continued. “That’s it, Jon. I swear. I like her music, not her body. Well, I mean her body isn’t all that bad…it’s actually kind of nice…”

Richie could see that Jon was not amused at his feeble attempt at a joke; Je wasn’t about to stand around and watch Richie dive head first, once again, into something that always spelled trouble for him.

“I’m not an idiot, Jon,” Richie tried again, more serious this time, “She’s thirty-three. I got it. She wouldn’t want an old man like me anyway. She was someone to talk to last night when you weren’t around."

A brief silence followed as both men's minds wandered over all that was going on. Jon was worried, concerned for his friend. Richie deserved everything he wanted and more, and Jon knew it. But Richie tended to want things that were bad for him, and Jon knew that all too well as well. It was Richie who broke the silence in a voice that sounded far away...

"You can’t say she doesn’t make you wanna watch her when she sings though.”