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.”