XIII

Richie stared at the note Frédérique had left him and then at the thick bundle of papers on the table. He puffed his exhalation upwards to ruffle his bangs and dropped the note back on top of the contract. He looked around the room: the chain with the token lay on a ball on top of the table, his black shirt rested on the back of the sofa, his shoes were carefully placed one next to the other on the carpet and the record player was empty.

If he hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have been able to guess what had happened on that carpet the night before. The room looked pretty much the same as the previous morning. All there’s ever left is…nothing. He winced: there it was again, the sting in his ribs.

The silence was deafening so he quickly turned on the news and set the volume to a medium level before heading for the kitchen to get the coffee machine started. Richie smiled with relief when he saw the dirty dishes of the night before. She had been there. When he took a triangle of camembert and put it in his mouth, he felt the tickle when he remembered Frédérique’s fingers touching his lips and his body reacted exactly the same way. He couldn’t help but smirk.

…

After Richie was ready to start the day and while he waited for his assistant to arrive - as she usually did by mid-morning - to go through the appointments of the day. That wednesday he was being interviewed by a couple of radio shows concerning the release of the band’s new album and he had to check on his clothing line’s headquarters’ comings-and-goings – he hadn’t been able to go there for a few days and things had started to get itchy. He would then probably have lunch with his assistant somewhere in the city. He would spend the afternoon writing: he felt inspired.

“We have the Sambora charm at maximum level today, haven’t we?”, his assistant questioned him during lunch, “that second interview came out pretty good, huh? You couldn’t have been more hilarious!”, she added and they both laughed out loud as they remembered some of the best bits.

It was almost 2 in the afternoon when Richie was able to go back home. He left his jacket in the closet and dropped the car keys on a little table next to a lamp. He was planning on making a couple more phone calls but he saw the contract with the note on it on the table and identified a feeling of urgency growing inside him.

He sat down and started thumbing through the pages, stopping to sign the ones marked with and X in blue-ink on the bottom right hand corner. He needed to have it done.

When Richie was finished, he put the contract back on the table and produced a draft of air that made Frédérique’s note fall to the floor. He picked it up and read it again: “When you’re ready you can have it delivered to the studio”.

Her goodbye words came to his mind and Richie dropped back on the couch to stare at the ceiling with his hands crossed over his stomach. “I think we should leave it to karma”. He took another look around the room. Nothing.

The words from one of his own songs came to Richie’s mind and he smiled to himself. I knew this one would come back to bite me in the ass. He hadn’t been crazy about the choice of words but Jon  had obsessed over using them, and he was the one who did the singing after all, so Richie had compromised.

He stood up. So Who dares wins, huh?, we better live up to it then. He took the contract, grabbed the car keys, went to the closet, put on his jacket and opened the door. He stood in front of the elevator door with his hands in his pockets and whispered without using the melody: “Call it karma, call it luck”. Sonofabitch. He pushed the call button.

“I just don’t give a fuck”

…

Frédérique held up admirably at work but by 4 she began struggling to read the letters in front of her eyes, and when she scratched them they felt sandy. Wednesdays were always the worst day of the week. On top of that, she was already tired from the previous days and still had two more to go. She had had way too many cups of coffee and had just eaten some yogurt and cereals sitting on her desk in front of the computer. It’s true then: When it rains, it pours.

She was on her way back from the toilet when she heard the phone ringing inside her office so she quickened her steps to get it. While she was on the phone, she reached for her cell phone on top of the desk: 3 missed calls.

“No, no problem, I can stay, give me 5 minutes and I’m ready”. Frédérique let out a soft whimper when she hung up. You have GOT to be kidding me.

…

Richie had just driving into Manhattan when he stopped at a red traffic light. He looked at his cell phone again. Come on come on come on.

He turned left in the next corner and pulled up when his cell started ringing.

“Richie…”, Frédérique’s voice could be heard from the other side of the line. “…I have thr-“

“Are ya still at work?”, Richie interrupted her.

“Yes…and apparently I’m going to be for here for a couple more hours. What happened?”

“I need to see you, Fred”, Richie answered, making sure she understood what he meant

She felt her blood thicken and her heart start pumping heavier. Me too. “But Richie...I have no idea when I’m going to be out…a huge project was just signed and my bosses called for a staff meeting so we are prepared to meet with the clients tomorrow”

Richie perceived a tone of excitement in her voice: “It’s kind of…a big deal”.

“I don’t care, I’ll wait”, he waited for her reply but she appeared to be thinking.

“Fred?”, Richie asked when he heard nothing coming from the other end of the line.

“Alright, right this down: East –“

“Wait wait wait”, Richie said when he realized she was giving him an address. He took a pen he kept on the dashboard of the truck and asked: “Say that again?”, he started writing in the palm of his hand, pinning his phone between his shoulder and his chin, as she repeated.

“OK, what is this?”, he frowned as he read what he had just wrote in his hand, there was something that looked like a code.

“That’s my address…”, Frédérique finally spoke, “…and the code to open my apartment” and then she finished : “I’ll be home as soon as I can”.