XXXIV

Richie jumped each time he heard the elevator move, but none of those times did it stop in Frédérique’s floor. He tried to visualize possible scenarios and what he would say to Frédérique: he was ready to bump face flat on the wall, but he was also determined to come across. Nikki had texted him a couple times to check where he was but he had just answered “In NY” and then “Still in NY”. He also stood up and tried the code for the door: it didn’t work, he was no longer welcome in Frédérique’s apartment.He sat back on the floor and waited some time more.

Suddenly the elevator moved again, then the doors slid open down the corridor and he stood up. Richie hadn’t yet finished this operation when Frédérique walked out of the cabin and came into a skidding halt in front of him, her eyes wide open in surprise. How dare he? In the time that it took for Richie to take a breath before speaking, Frédérique had jumped back in the elevator cabin and pressed the button to close the door, but Richie reacted just in time to stop it from closing by pushing with both his arms extended horizontally on his sides. Frédérique rolled her eyes and then smirked ironically. Apparently he wasn’t done humiliating her enough, he had to come to her door to do it, too.

“Fred, please, will ya listen to me?” he pleaded sheepishly.

“Why should I?” - she said coldly but calmly – “You didn’t listen to me: remember when I said FORGET ABOUT ME?”, and nimbly sneaked under his arms to the corridor, she moved so fast Richie barely managed to grab her arm, grip that Frédérique released herself from with one strong, clean pull. 

But it wasn’t her door she headed for: instead, she started running down the stairs and Richie ran behind her, but she was faster - and 22 years younger - , and soon was a floor ahead. Richie could hear her steps and her panting through the staircase and wished he had been more consistent in his workout sessions. Suddenly there was a thud and the steps stopped.

In an instant Richie found Frédérique fallen on the landing of the stairs of the fourth floor, trying to raise herself up with her arms, her head hanging from her neck and buried in her shoulders. Richie couldn't see her face, but her body convulsed in small spasms and he dared to feel a sort of relief: maybe she was laughing like that first time they met.

“What are ya doin’, Fred?” Richie asked softly with a sigh. Her reaction took him by surprise. He approached her and raised her by grasping her upper arms and turned her to face him. He was utterly puzzled: apparently whatever he said only managed to upset her even more. This time thick tears were running down her cheeks, and she finally raised her glance to look at him in the eye:

“For Christ’s sake, Fred…” - Richie pleaded huskily with disbelief – “What did I do to make you run away from me...like this?”, their noses were almost touching, and Frédérique could feel Richie’s warm and sweet breath on her face as he spoke almost in a whisper. “I love you, I’m here for you. I want you, just you, nothing more. I don’t know what else to do or say to make you believe that”. He squeezed in as many words as he could utter in one single breath.

What a liar. “You and I have nothing to say or do anymore”, Frédérique answered calmly in a low voice as more tears of disappointment welled up in her eyes. Richie waited for a few seconds until Frédérique blinked and another thick tear ran down her cheek. She couldn’t believe her ears, how could he lie to her like that? She tried to keep her composure even when her body was already giving in, channeling all the emotions she was trying to control with her mind. He wouldn’t have her melt down in front of him.

“Why? What is it? I need to know, Fred, please”, he asked again more firmly, but the only words he got out of Frédérique’s lips were: “I’ve already told you what you need to know” in the same tone accompanied by a piercing stare. He quickly recalled her words: “I can’t do this, us”, “It’s over”, “Forget about me”. What was it that had upset her so much? She seemed to be perfectly happy that morning before the interview when he left the apartment. He had already told her that having more children didn’t matter to him as much as having her next to him, so that couldn’t be it. She wouldn’t believe the rumors about him and Nikki, either.

He admitted to himself that he honestly didn’t know what to make of what he was seeing or hearing, or maybe he didn’t want to. In a second it hit him. She just doesn’t love you, you fool. Richie’s brow furrowed, he was stunned by his realization. Of course: Frédérique had just been gracious enough to take a bow as soon as things had gotten too serious. Because she doesn’t love you. Richie’s heart broke, once more, into a million pieces.

“All that I hope is that you’re happy, Richie”, she said softly but dryly after a few moments, and waited. Her knees were bleeding.

Frédérique watched and held her expression as Richie took a deep breath to fight the pangs of pain that ran through his body. That, he wasn’t prepared to face - he felt hopeless and helpless: Frédérique didn’t love him, she didn’t even want him anymore, not only was he not welcome in her apartment, but in her life as well. He could see no point in trying to climb the wall and reach in to the other side, there was nothing to fight for, he knew what he would find there: nothing.  

“Goodbye, Fred”, Richie finally replied sadly before doing the only thing he felt he could do: release her.

“Goodbye, Richie”, said Frédérique breathlessly, then slowly turned and walked away without looking back.

…

By Sunday night Jon could barely stand his own anxiety: he needed to know how everything had gone between Richie and Frédérique, and had played with his cell phone in his hands more than a couple times during the day. Then he remembered: it was Sambora, and if he and Frédérique had made out, they were probably pretty “busy” right now. A smile curved his lips when he couldn’t stop his mind from imagining what Frédérique’s naked body might look like, and what would her face be like when she reached her climax.

Behave. Yes, he could wait until Monday. 

…

On his way back to Philadelphia, Richie was still in shock: he should have seen it coming, that’s for sure, but he was so determined to “get it right” that he had missed the signs. Frédérique was a free, independent woman and enjoyed everything that came her way, he didn’t doubt that she had enjoyed their relationship as well, to the fullest…until he had let his tongue loose. “You’re the sweetest, most amazing man I’ve ever met”. Alright, he had no reasons to doubt that it was the truth, why not? She just didn’t love him, that’s all. He was the one who was ready to settle down, not her, but he had pushed anyway, to no avail.

The sting hurt. Bad. “Forget about me”.

By the time he arrived at his apartment he had but that one thing in his mind: forget, and the sooner he started the process, the sooner the pain would disappear.

Nikki sat on his sofa watching TV, with a notebook and a pencil on the table in front of her, some designs sketched on it. “Hey”, she said smiling as she saw Richie enter the living room. But Richie just approached her and hugged her for a few minutes. He swallowed hard to prevent the lump in his throat from sending a signal to his eyes, then pulled away and kissed her.

…

The next day, in Washington, Jon was looking forward to talk to Richie and to hear that Frédérique was back in his friend's life. And his. But as soon as he saw Richie walking towards him on the corridor backstage, his spirits fell to the floor: something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. He silently led him to his dressing room and asked worriedly with a frown as soon as he closed the door behind him. “OK, what happened?”

“She doesn’t love me, man” said Richie with resignation as he dropped himself on the armchair, and repeated his prophecy: “It’s over: she ran away, she disappeared and I probably won’t see her again”.

Jon was puzzled. “Did she go there to tell you that?”

“There? Where? What?” asked Richie weakly with a frown, sadness still evident in his voice despite the confusion caused by Jon’s question.

“Mohegan Sun? Saturday night?” Jon waited for Richie’s answer with wide open bright blue eyes. Is Richie going mad?

“What are you saying Jon?” Richie finally managed to ask with an ironic smile threatening to curl his lips. Now it was Richie who was puzzled. Has he gone nuts?

“Come on! Stop fuckin’ with me?! I bumped into her on my way outta the bar”, Jon spoke ceremoniously in a loud voice, supposedly undiscovering Richie’s prank- Richie always pulled that kind of jokes. That, or 30 years of rock n’ roll life style had finally turned him into Ozzy Osbourne. Jon let out a sharp blow of air in disbelief and smirked sideways, shaking his head.

Richie stared at him, processing what his friend was saying. “Is this a fuckin’ joke, Jon? ‘Cause I ain’t laughin’ here”. Richie asked for a confirmation with frustration, but Jon quietly kept his expression. Richie struggled for a moment to get the pieces together and then it clicked. Shit, NO. Was it possible? Nikki’s kiss. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. He sat back, let his head fall on the back of the armchair and pressed his palms together on his face, with his nose in the space between them.

“What?” asked Jon sharply. He wasn’t used to not being able to read Richie, and his present reactions were frustratingly difficult to understand: Was he joking or was he serious?

Richie sighed and tried to chain the events together out loud: “I called her before the show but she didn’t answer and didn’t call back either. Then at the bar Nikki kissed me some minutes after you left”. He let out a soft sarcastic chuckle when all of Frédérique’s reactions finally made sense. Man, he was shit outta luck, wasn’t he?: “I dunno…she must have seen us”. Richie shook his head and clasped it with both his hands. "It was nothing, it meant nothing", he added when Jon raised his eyebrows questioningly. Then Richie proceeded to narrate for Jon the events of the previous afternoon in Frédérique’s building.

When he was finished, Jon ran his fingers through his hair and let out a deep blow of air. “Fuck”. Yup, Richie was most definitely shit outta luck. He put his hands on his waist and stared at the ceiling to clear his mind for some moments. He felt a hunch: there was something Richie wasn’t telling him, there was a piece of the puzzle that was missing - Richie's reaction was too intense to be about just one kiss, something else had happened. He turned his eyes back to Richie’s. "You didn't-?" The men stared at each other quietly: Richie knew there was no need to say the words out loud, and he didn’t dare, so he just nodded silently. “Oh Lord”, finished Jon with a sigh, clamping his lips.

None of the men resumed their conversation on the subject: things were beyond fucked up this time.

After the show was over, Richie made a brief appearance at the after party and left. The band had a week off before the final shows of the American leg of the tour and by noon the next day Richie was already back in his house in California. Yes, Frédérique was right in running away from him, she should be running away from him. He had entered her life, her universe and her heart only to make of them a complete mess: he had destroyed that which he cherished the most, again.

Who’s the hazardous weapon now? Richie thought sarcastically to himself, remembering Frédérique’s warning. She was too sweet and delicate and he was too coarse: he wanted to protect her, too - from himself. And he would do his part by disappearing from her life and forgetting all about her. Starting now.

Of course Nikki would be there to help him do just that...at least until the pain disappeared.