Credits

That's it girls, hope you've enjoyed it. I have, a great deal and mostly because of your encouragement and comments, I was surprised and flattered by your response.

First of all, of course I'd like to thank Richie for being my inspiration, I couldn't have done without him. He he.

I also have to thank Jon, for coming to me in my dreams when Richie entered rehab, and whispering "I don't like this, fix this. Create a good woman that keeps him grounded and focused so this will never happen to him again". Then when I showed her to him he said, "Alright, I like her. Now come up with something so I can fuck her, too. At least once". Then he got greedy and wanted more but luckily enough he was a good boy. But he put up a fight, the stubborn one, keeping me up all night, throwing ideas at me, but for Richie's sake, I had to be stronger than Jon :D.

Thank you all, too for your support.

Some of the songs' titles are mentioned, but some aren't so here is a list. Other songs were indirectly quoted as dialogues or thoughts, or I drew inspiration from them, but those are not included in this list (it would be endless, or just the whole Bon Jovi catalogue).

Days go by (album) - Keith Urban
Days go by (song) - Keith Urban
Storytellers (album) - Willie Nelson & Johnny Cash
On the road again - Willie Nelson & Johnny Cash
Crossroads (album) - Bon Jovi
These Days (album) - Bon Jovi
(It's hard) Letting you go - Bon Jovi
Blame it on the love of rock n' roll - Bon Jovi
Scarborough Fair - Simon & Garfunkel
Nothing - Bon Jovi
Bounce - Bon Jovi
Blinded by the sun - The Seahorses
If I can't have your love - Bon Jovi
River of Love - Richie Sambora
Who says you can't go home - Bon Jovi
All that really matters - Richie Sambora
Come on in - Patsy Cline
I've loved and lost again - Patsy Cline
Crazy arms - Patsy Cline
Not fade away - Buddy Holly
Something so right - Paul Simon
Stranger in this town (album) - Richie Sambora
Thorn in my side - Bon Jovi
Sweet music man - Dolly Parton
Les yeux ouvert - Beautiful South version
Ne me quitte pas - Jacques Brel, performed by Nina Simone
Defying Gravity (album) - Keith Urban
Only you can love me this way - Keith Urban
Blood on the ground - Richie Sambora
Wanted dead or alive - Bon Jovi
Livin' on a prayer - Bon Jovi

That's it Now it's back to packing for me! My plane leaves in seven days woo-hoo!

Later I'll probably re-check the posts again and correct the myriad of mistakes I've found or been pointed by the readers, I apologize for those, once again.

Many have asked if this story will continue. Well, I've found it hard to let the characters go, but them as I, need a rest now. With the moving and everything my writing bug itches a little bit less, but who knows...This one came so naturally to me that it was fun just writing what I was seeing in my mind, I don't think I can force something like this. Time will tell, I guess. I'll let y'all know.

Thanks again for your support and encouragement.

Love,

Toti

EPILOGUE

August 19^th, 2012

“What about the band?”, inquires the interviewer, “Next year it’ll be your 30^th anniversary, are you guys planning on doing anything special?”. They have already covered Richie’s new album, the featured musicians, the inspiration behind it, how good the new single was doing, how supportive his fans had been and also the tour that would start in October. They have also talked about the new collection of his fashion line. It's time to wrap the interview up.

“Well, we’ve already done pretty much everything, maybe this time we should play on the moon”, Richie jokes, avoiding the question in order not to reveal the surprise. Jon’s stink eye flashed through his mind. He could read Jon’s lips: shut the fuck up.

The interviewer bursts out laughing. “That wouldn’t be a surprise at all!”, she exclaims, and then adds in a flirtatious tone: “And let me tell you that you look absolutely fantastic!”

“Why thank you”, Richie answers with a smirk, also flirtatiously. “I feel great! It doesn’t suck to be me these days”.

“You’ve been engaged for quite a while now, right? When’s that wedding gonna happen?”

Richie chuckles, and in his mind he remembers what Frédérique had “authorized” him to say.

“It’s gonna happen. Soon”, Richie nods, and grins. “That’s all I can say”.

“So you’re fitting it in between the promotion and the tour?”

“Well, actually I’m taking a couple weeks off before the tour, spend some time in France”, Richie adds.

“Oh, how wonderful”, comments the interviewer and waits for Richie to elaborate. She knows she has little time left, but she'll push it as far as she can, she just can't help it.

“Yeah, that’s were my girl’s from”, Richie answers with warmness in his voice and a wide smile.

The interviewer checks her notes: she remembers her name, but she wants to make sure she doesn’t mess up.  “That’s right, I believe her name is…”, she hesitates.

“Frédérique”, finishes Richie, by now he was certain he’d never get the perfect pronunciation but at least it sounded a little like it should.

“That lucky girl!” teases the interviewer. “Wow…being in France and in love must be a real bless-“

“Equals baby”, Richie interrupts her with a throaty chuckle. What the hell, he just could’t contain himself. The audience in the studio laughs out loud, some “Awww’s” can be heard, too.

”Oh come on, talk to me about it. You must be so thrilled!", the blonde exclaims with wide blue eyes, that's exactly what she'd been wanting Richie to confirm.

Yeah, they hadn’t returned to France since early December, before they found out. Boy, those past months hadn’t been an easy ride at all, but they’d both remained calm and luckily enough Richie had been able to work on the record at his studio most of the time, while he kept an eye on Frédérique. However welcome the news had been, they knew they still had a long way to go, so they’d taken one day at a time, and somehow things had just worked out. Now Richie feels lucky, relieved and happier than ever.

“He’s at home with his mom and his sister, now. The three of them are just…”, Richie places his hand over his heart and sighs, with a warm smile, “…I couldn’t love them more”.

Back in the New York apartment, Frédérique winces when she feels the sting in her ribs as she motions to stand up when the baby that is sleeping in the crib next to the sofa starts crying. But it isn’t that sting – that one was long gone – it's another one, with much happier causes.

“I got it, Fred. Don't worry”, Richie’s daughter places the remote control of the TV back on the coffee table and jumps up from the sofa.

She picks the baby up in her arms and softly rocks him and hums a lullaby. Despite the bumpy pregnancy and delivery he was after all a strong and healthy baby. Frédérique feels pure bliss: it just didn’t seem fair that she is so happy. That they are so happy and blessed.

Richie’s face when she’d seen him holding the baby in his arms for the first time was a sight that was worth everything she had to endure or sacrifice - that image would always bring happy tears to her eyes. She was certain that it had been his love and constant care and attention that had pulled her through, his uplifting spirits and laughter easing every bit of tension she unconsciously built inside of her. It was only Richie’s soothing singing voice and guitar playing at night that set her mind at ease and allowed her to rest and be strong for the next day.

To Frédérique’s and her whole family’s surprise, her mom had flown the day after she’d told them the news. Her mom never traveled further than a 300 miles radius from Bordeaux and only by land, so Frédérique felt grateful and relieved when her mother announced her that there was not a chance in hell she wouldn’t be there with her daughter this time. She didn’t leave her side until a couple of months later when Frédérique noticed how homesick her mother was and insisted she flew back to Bordeaux. Her mother had finally conceded, but was back in New York a few months later as soon as the doctors told Frédérique that she had to keep quiet and stay in bed. That’s when they established themselves in the New York apartment to be closer to the hospital, and that’s why her mother was there when Frédérique had been rushed to the  E.R. the night the baby decided it was time to come, even when it was still week 35th. Her father and brothers had taken turns flying over every month, so she’d been constantly surrounded by friends and family.

Whenever Richie had to fly to California, Jon and his wife had been there to keep her company. Even when they’d told them to be quiet, Frédérique insisted that they let their younger kids be: their energy gave her strength and hope - she wished that if everything worked out fine, her baby would be as active and as mischievous as them.

Jon and his family had also spent some time by themselves in the Pennsylvania house once Richie and Frédérique moved to New York. Jon’s wife adored that place and their children enjoyed being out in the countryside, their parents thankful that at night they dropped on their beds fast asleep from exhaustion after the daytime activities, sunshine and fresh air. Jon’s wife had always wanted to have a more modest and simple countryside house, but Jon preferred more majestic places and kept evading the subject. However, she had taken advantage and brought the subject up when Frédérique was present, maybe she could help her convince Jon to build one – both women shared similar points of views after all. Jon had tried to work his way around it by insisting that if he ever decided to build one, it would be Frédérique the one who designed it, and that wasn’t the right time for her to be worrying about any other project than “the scone she had baking in the oven”, but his wife and Frédérique were able to tell that the seed had been planted in Jon’s mind and that it would only be a matter of time before he conceded.

“He looks so handsome on TV”, comments Frédérique’s mom to Richie’s once the interview is over, standing from the armchair and picking up the tea cups and empty muffins tray from the coffee table. She had learned a little English after spending time in the US, and even though she struggled, she managed to make herself understood. Despite their age difference - the two women could easily be mother and daughter - and their language barriers, they got along incredibly well.

“He doesn’t seem to agree, though” replies Richie’s mom with a chuckle, tipping her head towards the still crying baby. She too stands up to help her daughter-in-law’s mother. Frédérique had become deeply endeared with her: she’d also been supportive and attentive, and by spending more time with her and hearing her stories of Richie’s late father, Frédérique had come to understand and know Richie even better, and how much deeper his grief had been when his father had passed than she'd ever imagined –  more than he'd ever had the courage to tell her.

Once the baby begins to calm down, the teenager talks to him with a soft but teasing voice, and Frédérique chuckles softly when she hears her words.

“Yeah, I know, S.”, she giggles and places a soft kiss in his little fist that grabbed a strand of her silky, blonde hair. “Daddy’s so much more handsome in person”

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...

LIX

Gaby poured two cups of coffee, put them on a tray next to a plate of bagels and took it to Frédérique’s bedroom, where she lay on her bed, wearing her sleeping shorts and tanktop, one arm over her forehead and the other one on her stomach. It was such a hot day it made it difficult to even breathe. When she heard Gaby enter the bedroom, Frédérique sat up and leaned against the headboard. Gaby placed the tray on the vanity by the bed and moved the armchair further closer to the bed before sitting on it and resting her bare feet on the bed. She held her cup of coffee with both her hands as she listened to Frédérique speak softly.

“I’m such a fool, Gaby”, Frédérique told her with resignation, nodding her head and looking to the clear blue sky through the open window of her bedroom. “I thought this one was it, I swear”.

Gaby sighed softly and took a sip of her coffee. She had also hosted hopes for Frédérique and Richie that they would be able to conceive despite her condition, it just didn’t seem possible that they couldn’t. Frédérique sometimes even joked about it, her burden just didn’t seem to be there anymore. Once she made a comment on the “hostility” of her womb and Richie had added with a naughty smirk: “I don’t know about that, but I feel pretty welcome in there”. At the time it seemed like a silly joke, but it had somehow ignited a thought in Frédérique’s mind: maybe he was right, it was so right. They loved each other so much and they were so happy - Richie was the one, everything worked perfectly between them, why shouldn’t this, too? Yes, after a year together it hadn’t happened, but perhaps it was because of Frédérique’s state of mind – her body always responded to it – and she being defensive and alert may have contributed to worsening her condition. When she felt the pains this time, she had allowed herself to feel hopeful. Only when she confirmed that it was actually her period again did she realize how much she actually wanted to have Richie’s baby. But now they’d have to wait - there were still two months of tour left. Yes, maybe it just wasn’t the right time.

“What about the wedding?”, asked Gaby after Frédérique’s long silence, quickly changing the subject to a more joyful one.

“We talked to the lawyers this week, Richie needs to understand how important it is for us to sign the prenup”, Frédérique answered with a hint of sternness and concern in her voice. “He needed to hear it from them”. She wasn’t going to give budge an inch: she wanted to protect Richie from ever having to be exposed to any kind of legal problems she could have regarding her architectural practice. Not that she wasn’t confident about her own capabilities, but sometimes shit just happened. “Then once he’s convinced we’ll talk about a date”. She couldn’t help but smile in anticipation.

Gaby picked up her excitement and both women were soon immersed in fantasizing about locations and dresses.

…

Goddamnit.

Jon sat back up on the edge of his bed and let his head hang down from his neck, his hands on the edge of the mattress, his muscular arms tensed along his sides. He turned his head to look at his wife sleeping on the bed. Yeah, he knew he never should go to bed if he really didn’t want to sleep. Or fuck. But what the hell, it was 3.22 a.m. and he just couldn’t get over the fact that Frédérique was alone at the Pennsylvannia house while Richie was in California. It had been four months since the end of the tour from hell and that was as long as Jon could stop Richie from diving right into his solo album, specially with everything they had gone through these past few months.

Once the tour was over and after spending three weeks in California, Richie and Frédérique had taken off to the French Polynesia and remained off the grid for almost a month. They had tried to become pregnant naturally for months, supported only by the hope that it just had to happen, that everything was going to work itself out. But no, the tour was over and nothing had happened. However, if they had left things to karma before, or Frédérique still carried some minimal amount of doubt about it before they went to on that holiday, when they returned all those doubts had vanished: they were completely determined to have a baby now, against all odds, no matter what. Richie’s glowing face came to Jon’s mind, warming his heart.

After a thorough investigation of the best doctors around and avant-garde treatments, they had finally decided on one, to which Frédérique had submitted for weeks. Yet two more months had passed and still nothing, Frédérique was exhausted and stressed, so they had thought it was time to retreat and they’d left for France. Jon and his family joined them in Bordeaux a week later, originally planning on staying for at least ten days. Jon felt in heaven: such a peaceful, gorgeous place, bottles of white wine practically growing on trees. Frédérique looked happy and relaxed. And beautiful. After only five days of stay, and despite his wife’s protests, Jon decided it was time for them to leave so they went to Italy.

In France, Jon and Richie had discussed their plans for the future: they both had the intention of releasing a solo album, but when Jon was still trying to figure out what concept he wanted to explore next, Richie had been writing non-stop and his inspiration flowed from him like a voluminous river. It had only been two weeks since Richie and Frédérique had returned from France and Richie was already in California organizing and contacting different musicians to play on the album, even though he’d probably record most of it back in the studio in Pennsylvannia.

Jon couldn’t blame Richie: not even he could convince her of staying in the New York apartment when Richie was gone, Frédérique could be thrown out in the jungle by herself with a chopstick and she’d be happy, but he did feel that Richie shouldn’t have left in the first place - it was too soon – but there was only so much Jon could do about it. Frédérique always insisted she liked to “clean up her own mess herself”, so their service staff was minimal and their intervention was limited to a few hours only once or twice a week. But Jon knew the type: in the beginning his wife was just like that. Frédérique was, thus, alone, in the middle of the countryside, in Pennsylvannia. Crazy woman.

Jon stood up, and looked out the window. It was the middle of December and it was freezing cold.

…

Frédérique looked out through the window and stared at the full-moon-bathed hills that surrounded the house, the first glow of dawn barely visible on the horizon. The air around the window was colder, so she wrapped her long, gray woolen jacket tighter across her chest. She had had the fireplace going for two days straight since Richie had left and a sort of excitement filled her: it was probably the winter, but then, she always felt like that with each season – she enjoyed all of them with their particularities, whether it was the scolding sun and warm breeze of summer, the fresh smell of trees in spring, the earthy smell of fallen leaves of autumn…and the icy smell of the winter air.

She wished Richie was there with her, though, making love to her by the fireplace, but she immediately felt greedy: they’d barely been apart the past five months and she’d had his full attention all the time, he’d been there for her every session of the treatment, every month when the result was negative once and again, like last month. Yes, it was good that he dedicated his full attention to his new album now, he was so inspired and joyful that Frédérique couldn’t help but feel excited about it herself, everything about Richie was always exciting, everything with him was always a new adventure and each time she discovered and learned new things. She felt like a teenager again when her stomach fluttered at the memories of their days in the Polynesia. She felt her body couldn’t contain so much love or experience so much pleasure. God, those lips.

In France they’d finally set a date for the wedding but it would be held six months from then: it took a lot of coordination to accommodate both Frédérique’s family and friends and Richie’s “family”. Man, those men never stopped doing things, there was always something brewing and it was an incredible experience to be able to witness and take part in all those endeavors. Good, it would also give her time to deliver her proposal for the design contest of a new hotel in Dubai she’d just taken up. Millions of ideas were swarming in her head, specially after the meeting she’d had with the design team. She felt extremely fortunate of how talented the people in her team were. Frédérique turned her head to the open laptop and the splayed papers all over the coffee table in front of the fireplace: when she had so many ideas bouncing up and down in her head chances were sleep would take a while to come.

The oven timer clicked and she walked over to the kitchen. Yes, maybe the darkest hour wasn’t the best time to cook, but she just couldn’t help a craving for cheese scones and the bakery a couple miles down the road was closed at that time, so she’d looked the recipe up on the internet and made them herself. She had just placed the hot tray on the granite counter of the kitchen when she heard the crackle of the gravel road by the house. A slight frown furrowed her brow.

It could only be one person at that time of the morning.