XXXIX

Jon placed another warm kiss on Frédérique’s lips and raised himself up in his arms to walk over to the bathroom. Frédérique couldn’t help but cast a quick glimpse on his perfectly shaped ass. Focus damnit. She took the tank top and sleeping shorts she had dropped on the floor earlier in the evening, put them on and hurried to the kitchen.

That’s where Jon found her a few minutes later after returning to the bedroom and putting his jeans back on: she was washing the dishes.

“Hey, what are ya doin’?” Jon whispered worriedly against her ear after giving her a tight bear hug from behind. Frédérique remained silent and showed no intention of interrupting her task, so Jon grabbed her hand that was rinsing one of the plates and with the other one he turned off the faucet. There was a moment of silence and Frédérique exhaled as if she had been holding her breath since Jon had returned to her door. She didn’t regret what had happened that night, after all, she had lost the man she loved – the first one she had ever truly loved, who ignited her rawest passion and deepest endearment at the same time - to another woman out of sheer stupidity and fear, leaving her again filled with nothing, lonely and empty. And Jon was there for her. Yes, he was a good man. And a very good lover, too - he was perfect, everything a woman could ever want. But married.

And not Richie.

“Promise me that you’ll leave and we’ll forget that none of this ever happened”, she demanded in a whisper, letting her head hang down. “I don’t want…anybody to get hurt because of this. Because of me”. Jon recognized that tone of voice and realized what she was leaving unsaid.

“Hey hey hey” Jon spoke reassuringly as he turned her over to face him, then lifted her head up with his finger under her chin to meet her eyes. “No one will get hurt, and there’s no one to blame” he told her with a serious tone, but then decided to ease her tension by teasing her with a husky voice and a mischievous smirk, “Well, alright, maybe you for being so pretty”, before he kissed her softly for a few moments.

Jon already knew Frédérique well enough to know that even if he didn’t keep that promise, she would. Jon didn’t regret what had happened. Hell no. And he also knew that no good could come out of Richie knowing anything about it, at least not until he had gotten over her – which might take a long time. Their friendship had always prevailed over anything else, so when the day came and Jon finally told him, Richie would probably just laugh his ass off and take great joy in saying “Told ya not to ever make tea with the water I’d heated”. Yes, his pride was also somewhat – just a little - hurt. He had seen how Richie and Frédérique were together – and overheard how good they “were together” – and she was definitely holding back now. He had seen it happen before. Sonofabitch. Another beautiful woman ruined for any other men. But he felt absolutely not apologetic about being with Frédérique tonight, not one bit.

Then he realized that it might be true that Frédérique would disappear and their paths would never cross again. But she was his for tonight. Just for tonight. And that portal would be closed forever in the morning. Jon was genuinely sorry that things hadn’t worked between her and Richie - they were totally made for each other, she was good for him – so even though it was sort of a struggle to have her around when she was with Richie (although Jon was expecting that with time the attraction would evolve into something…less harmful), it wasn't as bad as not having her around at all.

Frédérique disengaged herself from Jon’s embrace and walked toward the bathroom. She glanced at the mirror and noticed the red spots Jon’s incipient beard had left along her collarbone and shoulders, but didn’t dare to look at herself in the eyes. Jon was already back in the bedroom and his jeans back on the floor. He was leaning back against the headboard with an arm tucked under his head, making the hairs in his armpit stick out in all directions. The lower part of his body was lazily covered with the sheets.  

Frédérique returned to the bedroom with Jon’s turtleneck in her hand, then picked up his T-shirt and jeans and placed the clothes on the back of the armchair. She sat on the bed crosslegged facing Jon and hugging a pillow that rested on her lap, her hair hung to her front over one of her shoulders.

“An interdependence knot”, she said with a sweet and low voice, a genuine soft smile curling her lips as she reached for the token that was hanging from a short leather strand around Jon’s neck.

Jon told her about a book he had read called “The monk who sold his Ferrari” and how it had influenced and inspired him. They engaged in another of their flee-flowing, natural conversations, then Frédérique fetched more wine and they drank and talked for a while longer. The fact that they had just had sex appeared like an extension of their interaction, not an objective, not something extraordinary: it was what it was.

Then Frédérique suddenly became insightful, a cloud of sadness and melancholy shadowing her delicate features.  Jon extended his arm, twisted the tresses of her hair around his wrist and gently pulled her to him until she was on all fours and her mouth was close enough for Jon to kiss her deeply and tenderly.

“C’mere”, he ordered with a coo and motioned for her to lay on her side with her back to him, then he spooned her and after some additional minutes of silence, he talked secretively. “A penny for your thoughts”.

Frédérique reminded him: “You didn’t promise”.

Jon sighed weakly and promised he would. “But does it mean we can’t even have coffee or dinner some time?”, he asked with mischief in his voice and Frédérique chuckled softly, gently slapping his cheek with her hand. “Of course we can, in very public places where you can behave”.

Jon chortled. “I was thinking about some stuff you could do at the foundation, I need another perfectionist by my side”. He left the suggestion hanging in the air.

“You know I’d love to..." , said Frédérique regretfully, "...but for now I think it’s better if we don’t mix things up…more than they already are”

“OK, but if I promise…does it mean that I can’t have any more of your wine, either?” Jon asked trying to make his undertone as clear as possible.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to do without it”, she replied while she scrapped his raspy cheek, throwing the undertone right back at him. “You’ve got some excellent wine back home”.

Jon kept quiet for a moment and didn’t pursue that train of the conversation, then quickly changed the subject, reminding her seductively “But remember you’re mine for tonight, and we’re not in a public place so I guess I can…misbehave, right?”. With a devilish smirk on his lips, his hand glided under Frédérique’s tanktop and grasped her breast while he nuzzled her neck and placed soft kisses on her shoulder. She chuckled hoarsely, was there any point in arguing with him?

When he felt her relax Jon eased the tanktop off over her head and swiftly moved his hand to hook his fingers on the elastic waistband of her shorts to peel them off, then came out from under the sheet and pulled Frédérique tightly to him, her soft curves molding against his warm body. Frédérique turned her face back and pulled Jon’s head closer to hers by encircling it with her arm. As they kissed deeply and heatedly, his hands traveled to her crotch and his fingers started their stimulation with dexterity and proficiency. She could feel his erection building and pulsing against her butt cheeks, and reached with her hand behind her to massage Jon’s shaft softly up and down. He silenced his moan in the kiss and entered her mouth violently with his tongue. They pleasured each other for a few minutes until he was completely hard and could feel her wetness soaking his fingers.

Jon’s hand now grabbed Frédérique’s thigh and lifted it just enough to make room for his cock to find the entrance to her body and easily penetrate her as she let out an almost inaudible whimper. Jon’s lips were merciless, nipping and grazing the  skin of her arms. His other arm crawled under Frédérique’s waist and circled it to steady her body as he rhythmically and delicately pumped into her. Her hands, in turn, rested on each of his, entangling his fingers tightly.

Jon’s pants became more ragged as Frédérique’s whimpers became huskier, but he commanded himself to slow the pace –  he wanted to enjoy her for as long as he could. Yes, he was going to keep his promise and let her go when morning came: he knew she wasn’t his and she’d never be. Except for tonight.

His hands then slowly traveled up from her calves to her thighs, then her waist and her arms. While he continued with his slow thrusts, satisfaction dripping from his voice, he told her “You deserve to be happy, Fred, don’t let anything get in the way. No matter how much it hurt, don't look back”.

She responded by pressing her hips against his, urging him to quicken the pace, but he pulled out, sat on his heels and rolled her over, grabbing her hips and resting them on his thighs, the tilted them so he could find the angle to reenter her. A small frown of pleasure drew on his brow, and his lips parted, his eyes full of desire meeting her hooded eyes. He made sure that the head of his cock caressed gently her inner walls and felt how she responded by pressing her muscles slightly along his shaft.

After some moments Frédérique skillfully raised herself on her arms, leaving her body completely in the air in a bridge posture: her hips on Jon’s, her hands and feet pressing on the mattress. “Holy FUCK!”, Jon gasped at the wave of desire that rampaged across his body and let his head fall back, parting his lips before swallowing hard. Frédérique crooked a mischievous smirk at his reaction and told him huskily "Yoga lessons".

"Sweet fucking Lord, they never taught me this” Jon managed to say raising his eyebrows and shaking his head in mock disappointment before his control completely escaped him: he started slamming her hips against his, trying to hold on as much as he could, but then he felt her walls clench around his length as husky groans came from Frédérique's mouth. His release came like a flash, and he managed to slam two more times, emphasizing with a grunt. “Holy…Fuck”.

After they were both completely spent, Jon curved his back and let his head hang down, while Frédérique relaxed and lowered her body. They moved and accommodated themselves under the sheets in their original spoon position, panting heavily for long moments before their breathing returned to its normal rythm. Jon felt heavily sleepy, and he knew that if he fell asleep, when he woke up Frédérique would be out of his life - she’d disappear and he’d probably wouldn’t see her again.

He buried his face in her neck and fought sleep by relishing in her scent, but after a few minutes he involuntarily dozed off.

XXXVIII

It was Frédérique the first one to finally find the strength and release the clutch that held a fistful of Jon’s T-shirt, Jon followed by slowly sliding his hand out from under her blouse on the small of her back. She silently opened the door and Jon walked out after winking at her and crooking a soft smile. Frédérique closed the door and stood frozen to the spot until she had heard the door of the elevator first open and then close.

She sighed in relief: that man knew no boundaries and therefore she felt completely defenseless against him - his power was overwhelming. Thank God he had left. Ugh. Her stomach twisted in disgust at herself - right when she thought things couldn’t get any more fucked up…How much lower can you go, Frédérique?

She spun on her heels and strode toward the kitchen - turning off the CD player on her way - and found Jon’s turtleneck laying on the floor. Frédérique picked it up and put it back on the stool - later she’d find a way to give it back to him, but not tonight. She had just switched off the coffee machine when there was a knock on the door and she walked over, grabbing the turtleneck as she passed by the stool.

Jon was standing on the corridor, again.  “I forgot someth-“.

“Here”, said Frédérique extending her arm toward Jon to hand him his turtleneck and smiled weakly, failing to hide her uneasiness at his presence back at her door.

Jon thanked Frédérique and a tight smile flashed across his full lips before he took a small step forward to place a hand on her waist, give it a squeeze and kiss her flat on the cheek.

“Can you promise me you’ll think about what we talked earlier?” he cooed against her ear.

“Jon, don’t…please, just go”, she breathed, but he placed another kiss in the space between his previous kiss and the corner of her lips. Frédérique held her breath but managed to ask breathlessly, almost afraid of the answer. “What are you doing, Jon?”.

He moved his lips to hover over hers and breathed “You know exactly what I’m doing”.

“Don’t you have to go…home?”, she kept her low voice, closed her eyes and frowned. She tried to take a step back but Jon tightened his grip of her waist and held the silence before speaking again.

“Be mine, Fred…just for tonight”, he whispered heatedly against her lips, then pessed his on them. It wasn’t until then that he realized how hungry he actually was for those luscious lips – he roughly threw the turtleneck over Frédérique’s shoulder and started devouring her mouth, both his hands on the small of her back grasping tightly the fabric of her blouse.

Frédérique instinctively fought him off at first - both her arms were flexed and tucked in the space between her chest and Jon’s -  but she was weak and unable to resist his grip. Only after a few moments had passed did she relax against him, and he deepened the kiss before pushing forward to enter the apartment and close the door behind him with a kick of his heel.

It came to her as a surprise the fact that his kisses felt as natural as any other of their ordinary interactions.Frédérique broke the kiss to gasp for air but Jon immediately placed one of his hands on her neck below her ear, his fingers threaded into the silky strands of her hair to remove it and nibble her warm skin. Frédérique closed her eyes and let her lips part as she tried to find the strength to stop him, but as if he were reading her mind, he talked throatily against her neck. “Just for tonight, Fred”. She was completely at his mercy - she silently conceded before finally giving in. Just for tonight. 

Jon returned to Frédérique’s lips and this time his tongue slid across hers provoking a soft little moan to escape her throat, which drove Jon crazy, and he responded by letting both his hands slide under her blouse and fan over her back, the tip of his fingers sinking softly in her skin before crawling up to find the clasp of her bra and releasing it. Again, whatever he did felt like a natural extension of their previously established familiarity, there was nothing strange or awkward about it.

“Wait”, she said breathlessly. Frédérique pressed her forehead against Jon who was trying to catch his breath, and finished in a low but firm voice. “Not here”.

An eager smirk curved Jon’s full lips and he resumed his kisses, slightly licking her lips while he motioned both of them to the bedroom without loosening his grip, then bent to lay Frédérique on the bed. He stood on his knees and took his T shirt off before moving on to take Frédérique’s blouse - he found himself fighting the urge to just rip off her clothes and plunge into her, but instead managed to control his desire in order to be able to please her as well. He so wanted to please her, make her forget all her pain. Frédérique’s hair fanned around her face and Jon leaned over her to nip at her collarbone while he easily removed her loose trousers and underwear.

“You’re such a beautiful woman, Fred”, he said with a voice heavy with desire as he brushed lazy circles around her nipples with his nose, but she didn’t reply – she was busy enjoying the soft skin of his powerful and muscular arms as her hands glided up and down to finally rest on his round shoulders. She pulled his body closer to her, but Jon resisted for a moment to reach and take off his boots before resting himself on top of her warm body. Frédérique giggled throatily when the fur in his chest tickled her nipples.

 “What?”, he asks sexily with a mischievous smile. She ran her fingers through his hair, exposing his receding hairline. “It seems that the hair on your body is unevenly distributed”, she told him in a whisper.

Jon chuckled huskily. “Any suggestions?”, he asked before lifting his face up so her hand covered his face and he was able to kiss her palm.

“I think it’s time you went for a Mohawk”, she teased with a low voice. Jon responded by first rolling his eyes at her audacity but then his eyes became hooded with desire and he kissed her heatedly as he reached for the button of his jeans. Frédérique helped him get them off with her hands first and then with her feet.

As they lay naked one on top of the other, they looked into each other’s eyes for a few moments - yes, it still felt completely normal and comfortable. Jon brushed his thumb along her jaw line and then kissed her deeply – her lips tasted even sweeter than he had imagined them and their interaction with his own, together with the sensation that the body laying beneath him provoked on every square inch that touched his skin, made him blind with desire. Jon moved to accommodate himself in between Frédérique’s legs and his erection became even harder when he felt her warm wet core. He couldn’t help but break the kiss to let a throaty groan come out from his parted lips. Frédérique’s hands now traveled to his ass and grabbed his flesh to pull him inside her.

Jon took a deep breath to stop himself from crushing into her with all his might, and clasped her head with both his hands, then sucked her lips softly as he slowly and easily entered her. His mouth traveled down her neck to rest against her collarbone as he thrusted slowly but steadily into her, his hot breath and his stubble burning and scratching her soft skin. One hand quickly made its way to one of her breasts and started pumping it while the thumb anxiously plucked the nipple. Frédérique’s mind was completely lost in the pleasure she was letting Jon cause her body to feel and a series of soft whimpers started to come from her lips. There was no doubt Jon was an expert at what he did - every movement in the right place and the right time, like a sort of choreography.

Frédérique’s sexy noises were driving Jon insane. “Gawwd” he cursed throatily - he felt he could come only by hearing them. He rolled both of them over and sat up on the edge of the bed. while Frédérique’s legs automatically circled his waist, Jon grabbed her hips tight and started moving her at a faster pace, their nipples flicking against the other one’s. Jon freed one of his hands and threaded his fingers in the hair of her temple to pull it softly so her head fell back and exposed her neck, only to nip and lick it as his other hand moved to grasp her ass. His recently injured calf hurt, but his pleasure was enough to make up for the pain.

They were both already teetering on the edge and their pace quickened, both panting raggedly, completely committed to the enjoyment of the waves of pleasure threatening to wash over them any minute now. But Jon still felt he hadn’t enjoyed Frédérique enough, there still were places he hadn’t kissed, so he placed a trail of pecks that began below her ear and passed over the tip of her shoulders, then moved on to her arm that was resting on his shoulder. He took her hand and turned it gently so he could kiss the soft skin of the inner side of her arm down to her wrist.

When he was finished, Frédérique started to look for her release and extended her legs, then placed her hands on each of Jon's knees and let her head fall back. ”Oh, Fred, shit”. The change in position almost made Jon lose control and his jaw tensed in response to his struggle. His breathing was sharp and quick, his eyes couldn’t stop from traveling from one point to the other of the glorious body he was holding.

To prevent Frédérique from falling back, Jon splayed his hands over her shoulder blades and was able to thrust a couple more times before he roughly pulled Frédérique close to him, stood up holding her in his arms and dropped her as gently as he could with her back on the bed.  He let out loud and raspy groans as he buried his face in the strands of hair that formed a nest on Frédérique’s shoulder, one of her arms circling his head. He pounded into her until he let himself go. Frédérique was surprised at first by his unexpected reaction but then Jon’s own release carried her away, too, and she let out a lingering moan.

After a few moments Jon lifted his face up and placed a soft, firm kiss on her lips, then they shared a warm and lingering gaze while they both waited for their breathing to become normal again.

XXXVII

Frédérique took a deep breath and tried to recover from Jon’s attack: she felt so exposed she might as well have been standing naked in the kitchen. She desperately tried to prevent her frustration from showing by smiling weakly, but her eyes betrayed her and she was seriously contemplating the possibility of lying when Jon interjected.

“Don’t lie to me, Fred” his voice was stern but warm, concealing his struggle to keep his own emotions under control: the pain he saw in Frédérique’s eyes washed over him and almost made him wince. “I can see that you’re heartbroken”, he added with concern.

“Then why did you ask in the first place? It’s not hard to guess, is it?”, Frédérique replied tartly and smirked ironically rolling her eyes. Even more annoying that Jon’s intrusion and her own defeat was the fact that she felt she was at the verge of losing her temper: Jon made her feel vulnerable and defenseless and she could do nothing but be sincere.

Jon was amazed at Frédérique’s dexterity in evading the subject, but he was glad that she hadn’t shut down completely and was, at least, talking. Frédérique buried her face in the coffee cup - maybe when she looked up again he’d be gone, or she could buy herself some time while she came up with a way out of the situation. But no: his bright, piercing, inquiring blue eyes were still there, waiting for her to continue talking, and she found no other way out than to be honest. “I can deal with this alone, Jon” – she sighed and spoke defiantly – “It’s my pain to deal with and it’s nobody else’s business”.

“I worry about you, that’s all. I care for you, Fred” Jon told her with a soft and tender tone, then stood up and circled the bar to join Frédérique in the kitchen. He admired her self-control and fierce self-defense, but he could see past that into her pain and wished he could do something to stop it.

“Yes, I know. I’m thankful for that”. Frédérique forced a smile and nodded. “You’re a good man, Jon, I know your intentions are good, but sometimes you can’t control everything – things and specially people are not yours to tamper with”, Frédérique said with a low and relaxed voice.

Jon squeezed her waist with one hand and moved it up and down on Frédérique’s side, involuntarily taking the frabric of her blouse along with his hands in each stroke. For a few moments Jon found himself lost in the feel of the satiny skin the tip of his pinky was brushing and dizzied by her sweet but fresh strawberry and coconut scent while Frédérique relaxed at Jon’s kindness and support. It was so comfortable. Too comfortable. At the same time Jon suddenly was able to remind himself of the task at hand and they both simultaneously spun away from each other. Frédérique looked at him in the eyes and spoke with confidence. “I’ll be alright” – she nodded softly – “I’m always alright in the end” as she jumped up and sat on the kitchen counter.  

Maybe that was true, Jon thought, she’d survive. “But what are ya gonna do about the project?” he tried as casually as possible and leaned back against the counter, then had a sip of his coffee.

“Well, the main part of my job - which is the design - is finished and I need to focus on the museum now” answered Frédérique with her usual business tone, as if it was any other ordinary project, but Jon picked the hint of sadness in her voice. “So after the permit is approved I’m handing it to Gaby who is usually more in charge of the construction process. Maybe I should have to supervise her, but I can do that from the office”. She was so fiercely trying to act as if nothing had ever happened that Jon was surprised she even acknowledged ever having met him. There was a pause. Frédérique was feeling confident by now that she could handle Jon’s inquiries, but his next question shocked her.

“Will ya tell me what happened?”, Jon was overly cautious and very aware that she could shut down after that, but he had to give it a shot before she regained control of the conversation.

Frédérique chuckled throatily at his audacity, but took a moment to think before speaking. “It all happened so fast…and then too many things just went wrong. Then bad timing and bad luck did the rest, I guess” – she shrugged – “And then I made a fool of myself by showing up there...” - she stopped to sigh sharply and shake her head, still not being able to believe how stupid and naïve she’d been. Frédérique turned to look at Jon’s face: he was so gorgeous and charming and handled his aura of sex with disturbing easiness and openness. Under different circumstances no doubt she would have fallen hard for him.

But Jon wasn’t satisfied with Frédérique’s answer, there wasn’t anything in it that he didn’t already know, and she already knew that, but took his silence as an acceptance. Then Jon stood in front of her and grasped her knees. She tried to prepare herself for a deeper investigation.

“We need to do something about Richie. You need to get him back. He can’t be with her, he’ll go down, I know it. He says he’s OK but I know he isn’t”. Jon bombarded frantically in one breath, his face only inches from hers. Frédérique frowned silently when she heard Richie’s name and immediately felt the urge to run - as far as she could - but Jon was blocking her way out of the kitchen. She only had her words to fight with.

“No” she raised her voice in exasperation “He doesn’t need rescuing. He has made his own choices”, she paused and ordered “Stop treating him like a child”.   

“Maybe when you stop behaving like one I will” he countered with frustration.

“I’m not one of your subjects, Jon”, Frédérique defied sarcastically and tried to jump off the counter but Jon pinned her down by grabbing her hips.

“C’mon, let’s talk about it, what was it that went wrong?” Jon inquired in a loud whisper, as warmly as he could - she was shutting down.

Frédérique closed her eyes tight and tried to push Jon back by his shoulders but didn’t succeed so she spoke in a loud and firm voice, emphasizing with her head. “There’s nothing to talk about, there’s nothing to save. Don’t tell me what I have to do”. She took a deep breath to calm down and then she raised her eyes to meet Jon’s. “He’s moved on”.  

“That’s because you threw him into Nikki’s arms, what were you expecting him to do, huh?”, Jon frowned but his eyes kept piercing Frédérique’s, and she could feel his hot breath on her face. In his eyes she could also see how truly concerned he was for his friend.

Frédérique lifted her face up to stare at the ceiling “You’re unbelievable”, then she lowered her face to look at Jon and blurted out everything she had been holding inside, all she wanted was for Jon to stop his inquisition and leave, so she tried to cover all his possible remaining questions. “I won’t go to his house and beg for his love. He has made his choice, he’s with her now. If he regrets it it’s not my problem. She’s everything he needs and I was just strong enough to walk away before I became something I didn’t want to be: her”. She closed her eyes when she realized how much anger and frustration was present in her voice, so she took another deep breath and spoke in a calm and soft way.

“Look”, she sighed and ran her hands through her hair to pull it off from over her face, “this is precisely why I walked away: I don’t need this drama, I don’t need to make a scene or beg for anybody’s love. My life was peaceful and quiet and balanced, and look at me now. I don’t need this”. She continued to shake her head even after she had finished speaking.

Jon was speechless and again, he could see past the façade she was trying to put up. Whatever wall she built, he felt he could easily walk through it, and he could see the pain and heartbreak and disappointment behind it. She wasn’t entirely wrong after all, Richie hadn’t made the best of choices and the universe did seem to have conspired against them. He decided against trying to work his way around her reluctance to speak about the subject anymore, all he wanted was to hold her so he caged her in his arms and held her until her muscles started to relax, and her breathing became softer.

“I know I hurt him, but he hurt me, too” she whispered with her face buried in Jon’s shoulder. She was mad at herself for having unloaded like that, she shouldn’t have taken it out on anybody - she should have waited until it disappeared in the emptiness inside herself. She blamed Jon for having pushed her so far, but at the same time appreciated his honest comfort and support. What she didn’t appreciate was the tickling in her ear caused by his stubble.

As he held Frédérique, Jon realized that he was the one losing the game now: he didn’t care about the answers and the reasons anymore, about finding out the truth or about fixing things. It seemed to cause her too much pain and he didn’t want it to be on his account. Besides, she was right: what was he to do? Richie had his reasons and she had hers. Maybe it was time that he realized that some things were beyond fixing and this seemed to be one of them - he thought he’d never see the day when there was something he couldn’t fix, but knew deep inside that if it came, Sambora would be somehow involved in it.

Jon silently loosened his embrace and took a step back, then took Frédérique’s hands in his and gently pulled her down the counter. She frowned with puzzlement. What’s he doing?. Then he tugged her to the living room, made her stand in front of him and circled her waist with one arm. “You’re crazy”, she rolled her eyes and chuckled when she realized what he was doing. Patsy Cline was singing “Crazy arms” and he started swinging to the rhythm of the music.

“Shhhh” he whispered huskily, “Just humor me, ok?”, and pressed his cheek against her temple. She shook her head and smirked, but how could she resist? After some moments, she pushed him back and untied the knot that held his turtleneck around his waist and was pressing uncomfortably against her stomach. She threw it on top of one of the stools but it fell to the floor as Jon chuckled softly at her nerve and resumed the dancing. She placed her idle hand around Jon's shoulder and let her chin hover over it. In a matter of minutes all the tension that had built inside Frédérique’s body was slowly disappearing.  They silently danced to the music until she spoke again.

“You’re too quiet and tame, are you thinking of another way to attack me?”, she accused teasingly as she pulled her head back to look at Jon in the eyes.

“No, I’m done questioning”, he said softly with a sideways smirk, then pressed his cheek back against Frédérique’s temple and continued swinging to the music.

“What’s the verdict, then?” she asked with a slight frown, she couldn’t help but ask even when she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“You’re both guilty”, he announced with mock solemnity, “of sucking at communicating”.

She couldn’t stop a soft chuckle from coming out of her mouth, together with a hint of sadness and melancholy. He was dead right.

Jon tightened his arm around her waist and spoke secretively against her ear. “Let the pain go, Fred. Whatever it is that hurt you, just let it go. True freedom is being free of fear and until you get rid of fear, it will always rule your choices”.

Frédérique was touched by Jon’s words: he was spot on. Her lips curled in a soft smile, “Yes, maybe you’re right. But I’m just better off by myself. I’m too clumsy and that includes objects and people - if they don't hurt me I end up hurting them”, she reflected out loud. She finally felt she had regained control of the situation, so she ventured to confess. “I’m glad you’re here”. She briefly analyzed that the closeness she felt to Jon came mostly by the closeness he himself held with Richie, and she was holding to that bond to feel nearer to him.  

As soon as Frédérique relaxed against Jon, she felt a certain uneasiness: she knew Jon’s stay would be soon over, and they’d probably never see each other again. He was the last piece of Richie’s world in her life right now, and somehow she didn’t want to let him go - if she did, she'd be letting Richie go for good, too. She noticed that Jon’s heart was beating faster and his breathing had become heavier, his arms pressing her tighter against him. Why was she enjoying it? Why did he seem to enjoy it, too? No. It was wrong, very wrong.

She roughly pulled away. “You need to leave”, she spoke as softly and as politely as she could - the last thing she wanted was to come out as inconsiderate.

Jon stood looking at Frédérique for long moments: despite her strong and self-protective attitude, she looked so vulnerable and beautiful, she was like a delicate but lethal warrior and he found that both endearing and amusing. And absolutely attractive. Yes, he wanted her, but she wasn’t his to take. It was the right thing to leave.

He extended his arm in front of him and combed her hair back off her shoulders, then sighed. “You gonna be alright?”, he asked with concern in a raspy voice. Frédérique nodded silently and forced a weak smile.

They hugged goodbye tightly for a long minute and when it was over, neither of them could find a reason to let the other one go.

Jon knew that the right thing was to leave. Yes, Jon always did the right thing…if his dick didn’t get in the way.

XXXVI

Yes, Frédérique knew why Jon was there. Superman. He had come to fix things, to make everything be the way he wanted them to be. And he probably would also interrogate her, of course, and try to get as much information out of her as possible. She held nothing against him, though: he had been nothing but sweet and kind to her, and she felt like retributing his hospitality as well, she would just have to be more alert.

“Take a seat, I’ll be right back”, Frédérique commanded gently as she headed for her bedroom. 

Jon faced all his ventures with the strategies of a businessman, and in that aspect, his mind and Frédérique’s worked pretty much the same way so she knew what lay ahead of her: in the business world, sometimes it all came down to a seduction game, and she knew both how to play it well and how to protect herself from it. Jon would use all of his weapons - specially his charm - to get his way, he’d start by making her feel comfortable and safe and when her guard was down he’d strike and try to reach in. Jon may be stubborn and determined, but so was Frédérique, even when she felt her strength was somewhat diminished by the stir of emotions her brother’s phone call had triggered. Yes, she would stand her ground. It would be tough, but probably also a lot of fun - she liked those kinds of challenges, specially with someone as easy to read as Jon was.

While she put on a pair of coral, loose cotton trousers and a white, broad-sleeved blouse, she could hear Jon picking the guitar strings repeatedly. She returned to the living room and found him sitting on the armchair – the throne, obviously – with the guitar across his lap.

“It’s outta tune”, he said with a solemn tone and a frown without taking his eyes off the instrument, as if it were some kind of sacrilege that it was in that condition.

“Yes, I know, I never seem to...get it right”. Frédérique countered and proceeded to continue with the preparation of the salad.

“Well…it’s just a question of balance…”- Jon explained – “…the strings should be neither too tense nor too loose, ya know?”

Frédérique smiled weakly and spoke over the sound of the running water. “The middle way, right?”.

Jon nodded and strummed a few chords and arpeggios to check the tunning while he checked his motivation. Richie had been held hostage by Nikki in California since Monday night. He and Jon had only spoken briefly twice since and he had assured him that he was doing alright but evaded talking about Frédérique when Jon tried to insert the subject into their conversation. Yes, he was trying to forget her and Jon had disputed that having Nikki by his side during the process was a good idea, but to no avail. All he could do was try to reason with Richie, not make the decisions for him, and as wrong as Jon thought that Richie's choice was, he had made one nonetheless. Even though Richie sounded sad and angry – mostly at himself – he seemed to be weathering it and was apparently staying away from the booze.

But Jon was far from contentment: he still didn’t get Frédérique’s reaction, at least her break up with Richie in California. He could easily understand her reaction after Mohegan Sun, it wasn't Richie's fault that he had been so unbelievably unlucky, but given the circumstances Frédérique’s reaction more or less matched her character. However, the first time didn't quite make sense: they looked so happy and comfortable together, and Frédérique was a calm and reasonable person, it was hard to think that she would freak out so easily. Maybe if he found out exactly what had gone wrong he would be able to untangle the knot.

Regardless of the reason behind Frédérique’s behavior, Jon ultimately cared for her, and most of all, he wasn’t ready to let her go yet. He just wanted to see her and check up on her, at least one last time to make sure she was doing alright. A hunch told him that she needed protection and comfort, and he wanted to be the one to provide that for her. But  Frédérique was also very smart and madly protective of herself and her privacy, so Jon knew he wouldn't have an easy access, he was well aware of the possibility that she would shut down, and consecuentally was planning on being extremely careful in his actions and words in order to find his way in. He knew he would get in, it was just a matter of how and when.

He placed the guitar back in its place and stood up to take a couple steps towards the kitchen, leaning on the wooden bar that separated it from the living room and doubled as dining table. A little flicker of disappointment crossed his mind when he saw she had changed into more decent clothes - the shorts she was wearing when she opened the door made her toned legs look impossibly sexy.

Frédérique was already mixing the tomatoes cut in cubes with the rest of the ingredients in a bowl, adding olive oil and seasoning. Patsy cline’s voice filled the tense silence. When she finished she silently poured wine in a glass and placed it in front of Jon, then took a sip from her own glass. As they both drank their eyes met and neither of them looked away until both had made sure that the other understood that they knew the game was on.

It was a cool night  and Jon was wearing a turtleneck, but as thin and skintight as it was, it appeared a little too much for the temperature inside Frédérique’s apartment.

“Aren’t you hot?” she asked with concern. That didn’t come out quite right, she thought when she heard her own words.

Jon let out a hoarse “Ha Ha” and admitting she was right, stood straight to pull it off, revealing the blue T shirt he was wearing underneath, his chiseled pecs and nipples perfectly evident through the thin fabric. “I used to hear that a lot”, he crooked a satisfied grin with those blinding white teeth exposing the alternate meaning of Frédérique’s question, then tied the turtleneck around his waist, . “Now I’m just fat n’ old”, he sighed with mock resignation. Frédérique burst into a sincere laughter: Jon's comment only made his pride more evident, but she found mock self deprecation totally hilarious.

“If you don’t mind, I need to eat” she consulted sheepishly after taking a deep breath. “I’m starving. Want some? Sorry it’s not too much” she apologized, but then crooked a smirk “I wasn’t expecting any visitors”.

“Alright, I get it, I can work for my food", Jon nodded and put his hands up in mock surrender. "I make some wicked grilled cheese sandwiches, ya know”, Jon offered with a shrug.

“Yes, I…remember”. Frédérique told him with a polite smile - she had always felt so welcome in his house, but tried to be careful not to trip over her own feet by bringing the reason she had been there into the conversation.

“Alright then”, Jon made a gesture of rolling up his sleeves, circled the bar and entered the kitchen. Frédérique stiffened a sideways smile when she recognized his move: he would start by making her feel comfortable. Frédérique was reaching for the bread, cheese and butter when Jon’s delightful smell swept by her and immediately filled the tight space. She instinctively held her breath as if she feared she would get intoxicated by a lethal weapon.

“I would add some goat cheese and cilantro to give them a little punch, if you’re taking any suggestions”, she said carelessly with a shrug and put the additional ingredients on the counter. The atmosphere inside the kitchen felt exactly like a poker game the moment before the contenders call their bets: each one trying to decipher the other one’s hand and concealing their own at the same time, trying to act as naturally as possible so they wouldn’t give away any hints.

Frédérique hummed softly to “I’ve loved and lost again” while she raised herself on her bare toes to reach for the cupboard door were she kept the plates, but suddenly lost her balance and fell back against Jon’s back, who effortlessly resisted Frédérique’s weight. “Oops” she managed giggle softly, as they both looked discretely and briefly over their shoulders.

“So how’s the tour going?” she asked breezily in order to get the conversation moving - by this time the answer to “What brings you here?” was already silently established. Jon was busy cutting the bread and preparing the cheese. “We’ve just had a week off”, he nodded, “we resume next Monday, pacing is important”. Frédérique finished placing the plates, napkins and cutlery on the table and sat on the corner of the sofa with her legs flexed in front of her chest, nursing her glass of wine against her bosom.

Jon paused and frowned as he struggled to turn on the stove, taking a step back and ducking to look at the knobs. A tight smile flashed across Frédérique’s lips at Jon’s reluctance to ask for any kind of help: he was too proud to do that, so she just enjoyed and let him be. When he finally succeeded, he continued telling Frédérique about how pissed he was for the constant sound problems they had been having during the tour. On the background of his mind he debated with himself whether or not he should bring the subject up then or wait. He saw Frédérique take another sip of wine and stare at the ceiling. Yes, he’d wait, maybe until her glass was empty. It was a duel: the winner would be the one who striked better, faster and more accurately at the precise moment. However, he recognized that as much as ready to attack as he was, Frédérique was alert and ready for defense, too.

While he turned the final series of sandwiches over in the pan, he tried to add some levity to the situation by teasing Frédérique. “I’ve never asked you this but maybe now you can tell me why the French hate me”, again that delightful mock modesty. “I mean, I got a French looking house with French furniture, I love French food, but the French don’t like me, why?”, he rolled his eyes and chuckled throatily and cut the sandwiches in triangles before making a pile with them on one of the plates.

Fred walked over to the bar and threw her head back to laugh. “Well, we have some issues with royalty, remember?” she countered.

It was Jon’s time to laugh now as he wiped his hands with the kitchen towel. “Yeah, that must be it”. Then they both sat down and Frédérique served the plates. 

“So Stanley Kowalski, huh? How come?” she asked casually, attacking the salad with her fork before taking the food to her mouth. As they both ate and Jon told her about his admiration for Marlon Brando the conversation derived first into The Godfather and then into cinema in general. They both got so caught up in the easy-going and relaxed conversation that forty minutes flew by. Frédérique then circled the bar and enter the kitchen to pour two cups of coffee and placed one of them in front of Jon without consulting if he wanted to drink some or not. Jon was surprised that he had still found no evidence of the infamous wall Richie had told him about - taking aside her obvious alert state, she was her usual approachable and sweet self.

Frédérique poured three full spoons of sugar in her coffee cup and stirred it. She didn’t offer any to Jon: he took it as it came out of the machine. He complimented her on her coffee and she thanked him with a full smile and a nod before taking a sip. She looked relaxed and comfortable. There was a moment of silence and then Jon lifted his face up to meet Frédérique's eyes. His gut told him it was time. When their gaze finally met, he ventured with a heartfelt and honest voice.

“How have you been, Fred?”

Her body reacted violently when she realized what he had just done and she offered whatever resistance she could manage, but it was too late - she had failed: her eyes told him that his timing and strategy had been flawless - he had hit the bull’s eye and her eyes opened wide at the realization. He was in.

XXXV

“Aló?”

“Frédérique, I’ve got someone on the line for you”, said Karen in her usual friendly tone, “A Stanley…Kowalski something? Does it ring a bell?”

“Isn’t that the character from A Streetcar Named Desire?” Frédérique giggled, amused by the coincidence, but Karen didn’t answer. She shook her head at her own silliness and then took a breath to focus again. “OK, put him through, Karen. Thanks”.

“Hey, Fred” a husky voice greeted her softly after a moment of silence. “You changed your cell phone number?”.

“Oh, hi” Frédérique said politely, trying to hide the tension in her voice after recognizing her interlocutor. She ignored his question.

“We need to talk, Fred”, the tone was both seductive and imperative at the same time.

“No, I don’t think so.”, Frédérique turned to her “business” tone, evidencing her resistance. “Least of all over the phone. The office’s phone”.

“But we need to do something about-“

“No”, Frédérique interrupted with a stern but soft voice, “I’m going to hang up now so unless you have anything else to talk about, this is the end of the conversation”.

“Alright, alright, I get it”. Frédérique heard a sigh. "Can't blame me for tryin', can ya?". She was surprised that he didn’t resume the subject. “Take care, then”.

“Yes…um…goodbye”, she finished with a frown. But she was everything but comfortable with the way he had given up so easily. She tried to shake the sensation off by going to the toilet, maybe someone would ask her something and she would forget all about that brief but disturbing conversation.

It worked for a few hours, but when she was driving back to her apartment it came back to her: the call itself hadn’t been quite a surprise but the way he had taken her negative was. How intriguing…She would have to keep her guard up.

Frédérique stopped at the cell phone shop and picked up her new cell phone, she couldn’t believe she had to wait five entire days for the damn appliance to finally reach her hands, but thankfully had been able to keep her number and in touch with her family via mail. In the corridor in front of her door she greeted Mrs. Feldman, who lived next door and was coming back from walking her little pug.

“Dear, I suppose you didn’t forget about coming over and checking the humidity stains in my bathroom, did you?” the old woman asked with a sweet but high-pitched tone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Mrs. Feldman”, apologized Frédérique with a gasp, placing her palm over her right cheek, she didn’t like making promises she couldn’t keep. “These days have been a little...crazy. Do you want me to take a look at them now?”, she offered.

“Please, dear, no” the woman placated. “You look tired, you go take a bath and rest, we can do this some other day”.

“Thank you Mrs. Feldman”, replied Frédérique with a warm smile as she squatted to give the puppy a scratch behind its ears. “I promise I’ll come over this weekend, OK? Oh, and thank you for being my alarm clock these past few days”. Mrs Feldman usually walked her dog twice a day - once in the morning and once in the evening. “I finally got another one”, said Frédérique with a grin, waving her phone in the air next to her head.

After saying goodbye, Frédérique entered her apartment, hung her jacket on the rack and left her suitcase beneath it on the floor. As she walked in front of her CD collection she searched for a specific CD, pulled it out and inserted it in the record player. She was in need of a little Patsy Cline to cheer her up on a Friday night. She searched for the song she wanted to hear first and pushed play.

Frédérique took off her clothes and showered as the notes of “Crazy” filled the empty rooms of her house. She briefly blow-dried her hair so it wouldn’t drip and was putting on her sleeping shorts and tanktop when she heard her phone ring. She jumped in surprise at first and the ran to get it. It was her brother Jean.

“Hey baby brother? How are you?”, she answered excitedly. “Insomnia too?”, it should be way past one in the morning in France by then.

“I’ve got some news”, the man told her, barely being able to control his own excitement. “Marie’s pregnant again”. He waited for his sister's reaction.

Frédérique rubbed her ribs with her idle hand and winced, then swallowed the lump that instantly formed in her throat and spoke with a soft voice and a smile. “That’s so wonderful, Jean. How far-?”

“And we’re getting married”, yelled her brother.

Frédérique stuttered: “What?... When?”

“I know you’re going to kill me about this, but she told me this afternoon and I just proposed to her on the spot and we can’t wait, we’re getting married the Saturday after the next. Do you think you can make it? You must come, sis”, Jean blurted out.

“Wow” Frédérique chuckled “Nine years of relationship, a three year old boy, another one on the way and now you can’t wait to get married?”. Jean chuckled, too. “Of course I’m coming, I wouldn’t miss it for the world”. She finished with a hint of sadness in her voice. “I miss you all”.

They chatted for nearly half an hour and after hanging up Frédérique set the alarm to 9.30 - she was planning on running the next morning, she hadn't been able to do it during the week. Afterwards, she headed for the kitchen: she had missed lunch and was starving to death and in serious need for some coffee to get rid of a buzz that lingered inside her head, so she started the machine as well and took some ingredients from the fridge to prepare a tomato, avocado and feta cheese salad. It probably wouldn’t be enough but later she could would think of something else with more consistency.

She opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass, which she placed next to the cutting board on the kitchen counter. As she sang along, she prepared the avocado and cut the feta cheese in thin scales, then proceeded to wash the tomatoes but was interrupted by the door bell. She looked at the time and it was a quarter to eight. “Come on in” came from the speakers.

...If I had one wish, I wish I could
Go back to my old neighborhood
Where the good folks they all love you as their own...

She didn’t usually get the door if she wasn’t expecting visitors, but maybe Mrs. Feldman was more anxious than she appeared to be after all. She realized she wasn’t quite properly dressed to open the door so she covered herself with the gray woolen jacket but remained barefoot. She made a mental note of remembering to have a peephole placed in the door. ASAP.

Frédérique opened the door just enough to see who it was, and kept the chain on - New York was New York after all, not precisely the safest city in the world. After seeing who it was, she closed the door back, took the chain off, opened the door wide and wrapped the lapels of the knee-long jacket over her chest to further cover herself, before leaning against the door jamb. Of course he wouldn’t give up so easily, she knew that: that was the buzz inside her head, that possibility she had tried to ignore, hoping that by ignoring it, it wouldn’t happen.

“I’m sorry it’s late”, he said with a raspy, low voice and mischievous sparkling eyes, struggling to stiffen a satisfied smirk. “It took me a little longer to find out where you lived”, he added when a smirk curled the corners of Frédérique’s lips. She just couldn't keep her guard up around him. Then it was her turn to speak, and she dared to quip, it wouldn't be the first time she had tried to make a dent in his pride.

“I’m disappointed actually…”, she sighed and shook her head in mock disappointment. “…that you didn’t find out the code to open the door. I thought your powers were greater”.

He answered with a chuckle, accepting his defeat, and shook his head while it hang from his neck. His hands were in the front pocket of his jeans and he balanced himself on his heels.

“So…will you let me in?”, he looked into her eyes and arched and eyebrow with a more serious look and tone. His beauty and charm barely made up for his annoyingly arrogant attitude.

Frédérique took a step back inside the apartment. “Like you would take no for an answer…”, she sighed, resigned. Then held the door with her right hand and extended her left arm to motion him in, then slapped it back against her side. She heard the song in the background and smirked at the timing.

“Come on in, Jon. Welcome to Frédérique’s”.

...Come on in and sit right down and make yourself at home...

  

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.