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.”