LX

Frédérique carried on with her business of taking the scones out of the baking tray and putting them on a white porcelain one. She didn’t go to the door: it was open and Jon had probably seen through the huge windows that she was awake and active, so he’d just walk himself in.

He did just that, and the smell of freshly baked scones mixed with brewing coffee made his empty estomach rumble.

“Smells good”, he exclaimed raising his voice above the music as he closed the front door behind him.

“Hey, Jon”, Frédérique greeted him warmly after walking out of the kitchen. She always felt her eyes widen when she saw him, it was her body’s natural response to beauty. They met with a hug after he hung his jacket on the rack by the door. He smelled of icy air. Then she spoke with mock reprimand, looking into his ever-mischievous turquoise eyes, but still grabbing his shoulders: “I’m alright, I’ve already killed all the werewolves and goblins that approached the house during the night”, she smirked and pulled apart “You could have phoned, you know?”.

“Yeah, but someone could be pointing a gun at ya”, Jon replied, dropping himself on the couch.

Frédérique chuckled softly and went back to the kitchen. When they finished talking and having the scones and coffee it was already clear and the sun was above the horizon. Frédérique contained a yawn. 

“It’s time for me to go to bed”, she told him sleepily as she stood up and started clearing the coffee table.

“Ya go, I’ll do it”, said Jon as he took the empty coffee cup from her hand, brushing her soft skin.

“Alright”, agreed  Frédérique with a nod, “Thanks. See you later?”

“Yeah, Richie told me he’d left some demos in the studio, maybe I could give 'em a listen”, answered Jon and clasped her head with one hand, then pulled her closer to plant a moist kiss on her forehead. The tip of his nose brushed against her hair, he'd never get tired of her smell. Of course he behaved, but whenever he could steal those tiny, imperceptible, innocent moments, he did. It was all he had.

When Frédérique woke up it was late in the afternoon. She felt numb, but then it always happened when she slept too much. She took a shower and walked out of the bedroom: Jon’s bedroom door was open and she could see that he’d used the bed, in the air she could still perceive the remains of the soapy smell of a shower steam. Jon’s car was still outside. The kitchen was immaculate, and fresh coffee was brewing in the machine. She looked out the kitchen window and noticed that the horizon wobbled a bit. Coffee and something in her stomach should fix it. However, she didn’t feel hungry at all, she felt as if she had eaten five minutes earlier, but her eyes gravitated towards the scones tray, and her stomach responded to the sight of the fluffy yellow texture. Her mouth watered. She grabbed one and took a bite. Her phone rang: Richie.

She set the device to speakerphone mode and they talked for a few minutes while she ate the scone and poured herself a cup of coffee. She told him that Jon was in the studio listening to his demos.

“Everything alright, babe?”, Richie finally asked when he noticed the slightly rare tone in her voice. Frédérique was surprised by his question: yes, she felt a little funny but he knew it happened when she slept too much, it shouldn’t cause any concern.

“I just miss you, that’s all”, she replied softly and swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat. Why was she suddenly so emotional? Richie insisted that she flied over to California, but she reminded him that he needed to concentrate on his album and she, in turn, needed to concentrate on her work.

“OK, just let me know if anything comes up, alright, babe?”, Richie finished and Frédérique hummed her reply. “Luv ya”

“I love you, too, baby”, she replied, blew a loud kiss and hung up. Jon probably hadn’t eaten since morning, except for some fruit she noticed was missing from the bowl on top of the kitchen counter, so she prepared some salad and pasta and arranged a tray with a bottle of wine. The fireplace was still going - it seemed that Jon had thrown some more logs in it – but still the icy temperature outside managed to creep into the spacious interiors of the house. She put on her jacket and walked out the door that led to the studio through a wooden path, carrying the tray.

A sting in her abdomen. She stopped walking for a second but then resumed, and in the following three steps she came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe her period might be a little early this time - it happened every once in a while. Instead, she felt a rush of excitement build in her stomach. What if…? But as it worked its way up her chest it became something else, and before she could even finish formulating the question in her mind, her sight became clouded and her knees weakened.

…

Jon hung up after talking to Richie. Fuck, those demos were good, with only a little production they’d be ready for the album. And there were a lot of them, and many different versions. Even Jon himself felt inspired, he was still trying to figure out what to do himself, and this time Richie was way ahead of him. He was switching tapes when he heard the sound of crashing plates and cutlery. He chuckled softly: Frédérique’s clumsiness again. He’d even blamed her for his two injuries during the tour: funnily enough she was there when both of them had happened – the second time he’d told her she’d have to wear a leg brace, too, as a punishment. He smirked and waited to hear her “Merde’s” or throaty laughter, he could almost picture her trying to put herself back together. However, after a few moments: silence. His amusement quickly turned into concern and he stood up: it was time to check if everything was OK.

“Oh Lord”, Jon ran towards the woman sprawled face down on the floor of the wooden deck, just a few feet from the studio door. She was surrounded by broken pieces of plates and glasses, a thin trail of blood ran down to her chin from a cut over her cheek bone.

…

Richie was just walking out of the record company's headquarters when his phone rang again: Jon. Richie smirked and let out a puff of air through his nose. Yeah, of course Jon would find something wrong with the demos, his earlier praises were too good to be real.

“Rich, everything’s alright, don’t worry”, despite their meaning, Jon’s words sent a cold shiver down Richie’s spine and the sting - that he had even forgotten it once existed - was there again. “But I’m with Fred at the hospital”, Jon hurriedly told him and heard Richie’s soft gasp.

“What’s goin’ on, Jon?”, Richie finally managed to utter some words with a firm, husky voice, though anxiously enough that forced Jon to continue explaining. He paced in front of his truck, raking his fingers through his hair.

Richie remained silent as he tried to make some sense of the conversation: Jon’s tone wasn’t grave, but almost…excited? “She just forgot her cell phone at home, the airhead”, Jon explained carelessly and Richie frowned at his friend’s trivial comment. He couldn’t see Jon looking at Frédérique and sticking the tip of his tongue out between his teeth.

“Can I talk to her?” asked Richie, still not convinced that everything was alright. But Jon had already placed the device against Frédérique’s ear.

Richie sighed with relief when he heard her calm voice on the other end of the line, she hadn't uttered but two words when Richie felt his heart swell with hope.

The corner of his lips curled upwards: maybe, just maybe, this time...