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Showing posts with label Richie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Richie. Show all posts

12.15.2010

TWENTY SEVEN

Devil Inside



Richie hooked an arm each around Tico and Jon's neck. "Can you fucking believe that show, man?"


Jon blew his overlong bangs out of his eyes. "Helluva way to blow out of Oregon," he agreed.

Teek just grinned and sipped from his cup, no words necessary. Both the Devotion set, and their own had been full of fire and the crowd had been beyond pumped. Rumors from the previous night had infused the arena with a rowdy bunch of fans and they were more than ready for a repeat performance.

Snake came over with a sloshing red cup full of beer and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Holy fuck, man! I can't believe that fuckin' show!"

"That's what I'm sayin'!" Richie agreed.

There had been too much going on backstage for him to go out and play with the girls again that night, but Snake and Bas had done the honors which had only stirred the pot to a boil. By the time he and the guys had hit the stage the arena was pumped and that fed into his own playing, but more importantly it got Jon in the mood for an exceptional show. If his singer was happy, everyone was happy. That's just the way things were.

"Where are the girls anyway?" Snake asked.

Richie shrugged. He'd missed Steph all day. He'd heard that she and his sister had gone out on a shopping spree, but hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of them since.

"Steph is fuckin' smokin' tonight too, dude. Seriously, I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that prime--" Richie's chin lifted as his molars ground together. His good mood drained away faster than the first keg of the night. Snake didn't even finish his sentence. "Well shit, Rich, why didn't you say she was yours."

He opened his mouth to say that she wasn't, but it just wouldn't come this time.

"You know me, dude. I don't poach. Though I sure as shit wouldn't mind sharing her." Snake laughed through a haze of smoke.

"I love you Snake, but if you even think of trying to touch her, I'll break your fingers first and when you're crying in your spit, blood and piss, then I'll break your neck."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. I get it." Snake threw his hands up, his cigarette bobbing as he talked. He looked at Jon. "Man, we lost him huh?"

Jon tucked his fingers under his arms with a rueful smile, but stayed quiet.

"That's all right. That means there's more girlies for me, man! If the King of Swing is off the market, that means I finally get some prime pussy when I come to visit."

Richie's fingers curled tight around his own red cup and he tried to relax when he heard the lip crack. What the fuck was wrong with him? This woman was driving him insane, and he damn well didn't like it. She wasn't his, even if he couldn't spit it out to one of his oldest friends in the industry. He'd met Snake through Jon, hell he'd practically replaced him for all intents and purposes. Not that you'd know it from the way Snake acted around him. Jovi hadn't been the right fit for him. He knew it and Snake knew it, but a lesser man would have held it against him, but not the affable Dave Sabo. He was a good guy and didn't deserve his shit.

"Look man, I'm sorry."

Snake slapped him on the arm. "Dude, I can see why you'd be territorial. She's more than prime, she's epic hot! And the things she does with a Tootsie pop..." Snake laughed and stepped back. "I'm shutting up now, man."

Light blonde hair caught his attention and Richie turned. The woman slipped into the crowd of people, the flutter of long hair was the only thing he caught. He turned his attention back to his little group, laughing when Snake started in on a story about a show that had gone down in a flame of shit.

His eyes automatically scanned the party for Steph. Disgusted that he was looking for her, he focused on Tico and his raised brow. He only lifted his glass in salute and knocked back his entire beer. “I need a refill, anyone want?”

Snake nodded and so did Jon. He went in search of the keg and figured another night of oblivion was in order. The only thing that kept him from seeking her out was getting so drunk that he couldn't get his dick to work on demand. Again, a wisp of blonde hair teased the edges of his vision. He had a weakness for blondes, but since Steph he’d barely looked at the more than willing women that crowded the after parties.

Did that mean he was finally easing up on this obsession with Steph? It didn’t seem likely, all he did was think about her. Shit, he woke up with a hard on for her on a daily basis. And the last three songs he’d started included summer blue eyes and a smile that made a man feel like a king.

He was turning into a fucking sap.

Finally, he reached the keg and refilled the cups, turning back to find the guys in the throng of people. Before he could get back to them the same blonde filled his line of sight. From the back her hair was a waterfall of sinful thoughts. It was the kind of hair you wanted against your thighs and belly as a woman went down on you. It was the kind of hair that made a man want to wrap it around his hand and pull her head back to get to her neck.

His cock jumped in his jeans and he instinctively followed her. She melted into the crowd and he lost sight of her, only to catch another glimpse of her in along the wall heading out of the party. He put the cups on the nearest ledge and they were gone before he turned around.

Where the fuck did she go?

There.

He pushed through the crowd just as she disappeared through a doorway. This time he caught more than the nearly spotlight white of her hair. An ass hugging skirt barely came down to her thighs. Then there was this little flip at the end where slits climbed her hips. A few inches of creamy thigh had a drop of sweat sliding down his back. It felt like forever since he’d gotten inside a woman and his dick was playing homing pigeon with this luscious piece of perfection. Guilt ate at his arousal, but he couldn’t stop himself from following her.

Steph wasn’t his yet.

He wasn’t cheating.

He just needed some release and then he could manage to hold her off just a little bit longer. The week long break would be good for them. He could put her out of his mind again, just like he'd been doing for years.

The click of heels in an empty hallway pushed him to walk faster. There hadn’t been a single woman that had turned him on in over two weeks. Ever since he’d had a taste of her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. And finally, like a gift from heaven, a woman that could get him past this hump.

He grinned. More like he was going to jump her, then hump her. He’d make it so good for this girl and maybe, just maybe he’d be able to think like his usual self.

Wicked heeled boots hugged her from ankle to just above her knee leaving that fascinating and dead sexy three inches of skin bare. All he had to do was lift that skirt, move panties aside...Hell, she could leave the boots on.

He’d let her ride him for a fucking hour.

If he could last that long. No one had ever called him a minute man, but he just might be one tonight. She turned the corner to another side room and he chased after her. Christ, the chick was leading him around by the dick and he hadn’t even seen her face.

Not that it mattered, at this point he could just close his eyes and fuck her.

He could pretend she was Stephanie.

His cock banged against his zipper in time to his heartbeat. This chick's body wasn’t a far cry from Steph to be honest. She was tiny like her, curves in all the right spots and an ass that was created to fill his hands.

The blonde stopped and finally turned around. His gaze fell to her breasts. Full and firm, he groaned as he caught the tight nipples drilling out against the second skin black material. Chains held the shirt up and fastened into a collar around her neck. Yes, indeed he’d love to pull that hair back and get his mouth on her neck.

Then he saw the made-to-suck-a-man's-dick lips and the telltale white stick.

His heart stalled and his breathing halted in his chest.

Fuck no.

The pink stain of the stick slid across lips so dark and slick his cock wouldn’t let up even though he knew it was her. His chest heaved, taking the decision to breathe out of his hands. Finally he met her eyes, his lungs still trying to catch up with the sudden need for oxygen.

She walked toward him slowly. All that silky blonde hair fluttered around her nearly bare shoulders. There was no room for a bra, and she didn’t even try to hide the fact, as her full breasts slowly swayed with each hip rolling step.

He couldn’t move. Shit, he didn’t want to move. He just wanted her to touch him, to take away the decision for him at this point.

He couldn’t remember not wanting her. For years he’d dreamt of her coming to him like this. Okay, so there wasn’t a seedy storage room in his fantasy. There was just him and Stephanie and a room that only boasted a bed and candles.

But this Stephanie was better than the one he’d put together in his head.

She didn’t speak and when he opened his mouth as a last ditch effort to warn her off she placed one finger over his lips. He groaned when the tip of her finger slid down the middle of his lower lip.

“Shut up, Richie, and just take. You know you want to. I can see it." Her eyes dipped low and he felt her gaze as surely as if she'd stroked his cock. The soft fan of her lashes lifted and the direct, searing blue of her eyes bore into his.

He shook his head, even as he could feel his own resistance melt away to nothing. It was useless. It was going to happen and he might as well enjoy it. The trainwreck would come and he’d just have to deal with the aftermath.

Even if she shredded his heart.

Because he knew if he lost her at this point, it would kill a vital part of him.

She took out her tootsie pop and shoved it in his mouth before he could say another word. The cherry taste made his taste buds flood with saliva. If it the lollipop or the woman, he couldn’t tell. And when she pressed a light kiss at the center of his throat, he moaned.

“You know this is right,” she said against his skin.

He let his head drop back as the tip of her tongue swirled around his Adam’s apple and then lower to mimic the line of his T-shirt collar. Her hands slid across his chest, her thumbs brushing over his nipples unerringly before they disappeared inside his leather jacket and around his back to rake down and then back up.

His head snapped up as her touch came back around the front of his belly. Her nail slid under the button of his jeans. He could feel her knuckle saw back and forth along the line of hair that drew down into his zipper.

“Jesus, Baby.”

His gut quivered as she reached in just a little more and the pad of her finger circled the head of his cock. He couldn’t stop his hips from shifting higher and he hissed when the side of her knuckle cupped the underside of his head.

On her tiptoes, her lips reached his ear. “I want your cock in my mouth. And I want you to watch me as I suck you off.”

He swore, the lollipop hit the floor with a sticky click and his fingers were in her hair, wrapping around the insanely soft strands. He didn’t even try to resist her, he took her mouth like he wanted to take her, hard and fast. Her arm wrapped around his neck as she flicked open his button and jerked down his zipper. He hissed out a breath, gripping her hair to get at her neck. He wanted to taste every inch of her twice then go back and find room for thirds.

“No, dammit.”

The word itself stopped him in his tracks. Even through the buzzing his his own brain as all the important blood was now pooling into his cock, that one word never failed to jerk him into stillness. "What?"

She gripped him tightly and he knew in that moment he would be at her mercy. He'd wanted her to touch him for so long. Then he finally heard the voices in the hallway. The combined voices of Doc and Paul as they called for them all to get ready for the airport. They were heading to Vancouver on a private jet thanks to one of the PR guys from the party the night before.

His fingers bunched in her hair and when he heard an answering whimper from Steph, his dick hardened even more if that was possible. Did she like a little pain with her pleasure? Could she really be that perfect for him? Darker desires always lurked inside him, but he never let them out with the groupies. You never knew who would talk to who. Just to be sure, he tugged one more time and he shuddered under her touch as her eyes rolled to his, her teeth sawing into her lower lip.

The voices got louder as they came closer to the room they were in, but he took the time to lave his tongue over her lower lip and kiss her deep and hard before he drew away. She swore ripely and he could have echoed every sentiment. Would timing ever be their friend?

She gripped the leather of his jacket, dragging him down to her level. "If you walk away from me again, I will rip your balls off and feed them to you."

He couldn't stop the laugh even as a wince chased it. "Baby, you unleashed something that's never going to be able to be put in a box again."

Steph frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

Before he could answer her, Paul ducked into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, but it's time to shove off."

Richie nodded and linked his fingers with hers. Then it was too crazy to even try to talk to her again until they landed in one of the limos that would bring them to the airport. The overflow of a great show and enough booze flowing between the two bands to open up a bar didn't give him a chance to talk to her again. They were all crammed in a stretch limo and Jon was playing bartender.

Before Steph could climb in and sit with the girls, he dragged her down next to him and slung his arm around her shoulder. Ignoring her startled eyes and the knowing smirk from his sister he accepted a red cup full of something he couldn't decipher. Whiskey, rum, or a mixture of both, he hadn't a clue. He took a fortifying sip and let the burn settle his nerves. Just maybe he could ease the hard on that was trying to rip into his belly if he numbed himself on alcohol.

Steph accepted her own cup of brew and he sat back. Instead of his hard on, he focused on her hair, letting the strands slide through his fingers as he talked to Tico about their return to Vancouver. And with each pass through her hair, he felt her relax next to him. He laughed when the limo hit a bump and the cup of ice Jon was preparing for the next drink went airborne.

"Dammit!" Jon slurred and shrugged before he went back to the bucket for more. "Pixie, hold this!"

Ashley bounced from one seat to another until she was crouched in front of Jon with a devilish grin. "I'll cup anything you want, Jon."

Jon wagged a finger at her and closed one eye as if to see her better. "I don't think I'd survive you cupping anything of mine."

Everyone laughed except for his sister. Instead, she just toyed with the ends of her...blue? Well shit, blue and almost black hair and kept her eyes on her boots. Was she high? Or just drunk? Or...he shook his head with a groan and shifted in his seat as Steph's hand dropped to his thigh. All thoughts of Jon melted away as he smiled down at her. He buried his nose into her sweet smelling hair. "You're playing with fire, Baby."

Instead of answering him, her fingers just inched up his thigh. He set his cup on top of her hand with a mild groan. It was going to be a long plane ride and it was well past time for him to take some control of their situation.

The whooshing roar of planes overhead signaled they were coming into the airport terminal. They didn't need to go through airport security this time. Instead the limo sidled up to the white and blue plane and came to a stop. They all unloaded, Doc disappearing to talk to the PR guy...Jerry, George, Jason...whatever the fuck his name was. It didn't matter, by tomorrow they wouldn't remember his name anyway. It was just one more guy looking to get close to the band and the next party.

Richie knew the game and played it well. He knew what was expected of him and never let Jon down when it came to doing his part at a party, but tonight...tonight he was going to focus on Stephanie and showing her just what she was going to get thanks to her teasing. Once he was through this door he knew there was no turning back.

Ten minutes later all their overnighters were lodged in the overheads. It was after 2am and the front of the plane was still going strong with a cooler full of booze infusing the party with enough juice to make it to Vancouver. But he didn't want that party. He wanted a private one in the dark at the back of the plane.

The jet was only a twenty seater so true privacy wasn't happening tonight, but he came up behind her before she could sit down. He slid his hand around her waist, the tips of his fingers finding the warm, silky skin of her belly. He didn't notice it before, but a thin chain circled her waist, arrowing down in a Y with a dangle toward the center.

He brushed his nose along the back of her ear, dragging in her soft scent as he tugged on the chain. "Come to the back of the plane with me."

She swayed back against him. The earlier siren strangely missing once they'd gotten on the plane. He didn't blame her for thinking he'd walk away again. He'd been doing it for months now, but that was over. She'd just have to learn that the next phase would be under his rules.

His thumb swiped under the chain, just below her navel. "I like this." She shuddered under his touch, prompting him to go one step further, cupping the front half of her torso, dragging her back intil his cock was lodged between her cheeks. "No more running, Baby. You're mine now."

The quick intake of breath was all he needed. He threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the back of the plane. The light was dimmer the deeper they got into the back. A bench seat took up the last row. Her eyes glinted in the half light, but there wasn't a word between them. Now wasn't the time to talk, he needed to show her what she'd unleashed with the slow teasing and relentless pursuit.

Maybe then he could give back a little of the destruction she'd caused.

He sat down, glancing at the front of the plane. No one gave two shits about them. He opened his legs, sliding down on the seat enough that he gave her plenty of lap to sit on. He guided her between his legs and slipped two fingers along one of the slits in her skirt until he could curl under the stretchy black fabric.

Her breath came in shallow puffs as he traced the seam of her panties and slowly drew his knuckle across the front and groaned. She'd soaked through the scrap of lace. He flipped up the skirt front and leaned forward. Her hands slid into his hair and held on as he breathed her in. His mouth watered and it took everything in him to stop. He wanted a taste, wanted to linger between her thighs and feel her tighten around his tongue. But not here.

He wanted to be able to take his time and to make her scream. Instead, he nipped at the material, dragging it away from the heat and heady scent of her pussy, letting it snap back against her skin. The quick jolt had her swallowing a gasp and he smiled against the lace. "I'd spend hours down here if I could," he murmured.

"Oh, God."

He grinned up at her, touching the tip of his tongue between her plump lips under the restrictive lace. He dug under the back of her tight skirt and pulled her panties down, forcing himself to let the flap of her skirt cover her. He knew if he got a look at her, he'd have no choice but to taste her. And that wasn't an option. Not now, not with an audience...not for the first time anyway.

He shoved her panties in his back pocket and topped her onto his lap, shifting her until she straddled him. His fingers coasted the narrow line of her back and up along her neck, dragging her down to his mouth. The kiss was slow and thorough. He could learn this part of her at least. The quick, unrestrained kiss after he'd nearly suffocated Doc was nothing compared to this. She seemed to instinctively know what he needed, drawing on his tongue and he hardened even more if that was possible. Her mouth around his cock would kill him, he was sure of it.

But now was for her.

He boxed up his own needs and tucked them away, focusing on showing her just how a man could worship a woman. The silky fall of her hair slithered around his wrist and fingers and he dug into the warmth at her neck. She tipped her hips forward and he felt the slick bump of her pussy against his zipper. He smiled against her mouth. "You're going to soak the front of my jeans in your juices by the time I'm done."

She moaned and the kiss went wild with need. She hung onto his shoulders and the light undulation of her hips against him tried to unlock that tight box of control. He twisted her hair in his hand, pulling her head back so he could get to her throat. "You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you. Almost as much as I want to make love to you for days."

She melted against him. "God, you can't say those things to me," she whispered.

"I want all that, but the moment I take you Baby, that's it. You're mine. Do you know what you've started?" Her arm came around his neck and he loosened her hair enough so that he met her gaze. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her lips, then her cheek. He watched her, drowned in her as he slid his hand between them.

She was silky smooth against his knuckles as he brushed her gently. Her breath caught as he grazed her swollen folds. "Oh yeah, so wet for me. I could slide my cock inside you right now and it would feel so good."

She closed her eyes. "You're killing me."

He twisted his wrist and probed with his middle finger, slipping around her tight clit, making sure each and every joint slid against it as he slowly sunk inside her. She was so wet, so tight, and so perfect that he barely held onto sanity as he stroked her with his finger. All the while he watched her, daring her to keep his gaze. On the next pass, he buried his forefinger in with his middle and pumped inside her, curling until he could push against her clit and then into her pussy tissues then stayed there.

He burrowed his nose into her hair, against her ear. "I want this to be my cock so bad, Baby."

She undulated against his hand. "Who would know? Just do it now. Please," she said on a strangled sob.

He fucked her with his hand, turning off the clouding lust that told him to just unbuckle and get inside her. Not here, not like this. He wanted to be able to savor the first time inside her. He turned his hand so that his thumb could circle her clit. Driving his fingers into her heat, he used every ounce of dexterity he had to get her off quickly. He couldn't take much more of this.

Not when he knew she'd finish alone.

The purring groans she gave off just about killed him and when she gasped he locked his lips over her mouth and swallowed all those sweet little sounds that had been haunting his dreams. When she stiffened in his arms, his fingers twisted into the hair at the base of her neck, dragging her head back as he rested his forehead against her chest. Everything inside him wanted to look under that skirt and watch his fingers gliding into her heat, but he knew that would just tip him over the edge.

He sat back, slamming his head into the back of the seat to break the hypnotic trance of watching her undulate over him. She rocked against him slowly, just a few more times and stilled. They were in their own little cocoon and he didn't give two shits about the outside world. She was even hotter than he'd thought she'd be. And he'd had the bar set high.

He slowly drew his fingers out, making sure to slide up and along her clit and was rewarded with one long shudder. She stared at him, her chest heaving and the color high on her cheeks. He gentled his hold on her hair and smoothed his thumb across her cheek. Her scent was everywhere making him so hungry he could barely restrain himself. He kept his gaze on hers as he licked his fingers slowly. When the last drop of her was gone, he closed his eyes to savor her.

He didn't even have a chance to ease out from under her before her mouth was on his, her fingers in his hair. She pulled away and pressed her forehead to his. "I can taste myself on your tongue."

His fingers gripped her hips. "You're killing me, Baby." She brushed her nose against his, her breath hot on his cheek as she tried to pull herself together. Understanding the uncontrollable needs pinging around inside her, he eased her against his chest and drew his palm down her back. "Shh, just relax."

"How am I supposed to relax? I'm so turned on I could scream."

He pressed his cheek into her sweet smelling hair praying that his body would cooperate. He was so hard, he could barely think. He forced a light tone into his voice. "Didn't I take care of you?"

She turned her head into his neck. "God, yes. But I want more."

He laughed, the movement had him silently sucking in air. He was going to explode. "Greedy."

She curled her arm around his neck and played with his hair. "You better believe it." She held onto him and all he could think about was doing the same. You couldn't die from a hard on.

At least he was pretty sure you couldn't.

Turning her so she was settled across his lap and curled into him instead of cradling his poor, tortured dick he focused on her shampoo, her light breathing, and making it through the next hour.

10.13.2010

TWENTY THREE

 
Barracuda



Richie closed his eyes, trying not to focus on the woman next to him. Especially since he was in a room alone with her and they were sitting on a bed. Holy Christ, he wanted nothing more than to push her back on the pillows and lose himself inside her for an hour or twelve. She leaned into him, the soft curve of her breast distracting him enough to hit a wrong note in Whole Lotta Love. Shit, he'd been playing that song since he'd heard it the very first time. He'd sat with the song for hours, trying to mimic Jimmy Page.




At her husky laugh, he looked up at her. "What?"



"Leave it to you to play one of the most sexual Zepplin songs while I'm sitting here."



"Hell no, Baby. There are way worse songs, but how about this instead?" The familiar notes that almost any guitar player forced himself to learn for a cover song filled the room, booming out of his travel amp.



Steph's eyebrow arched and a smirk tugged at her lips. The same lips he wanted to kiss for hours for the love of shit. "Start over."



He snapped the tip of his pick. "What?" Hell no. He'd only been playing around with a name that tune kind of thing.



She pulled the chair over from the corner and leaned forward. "So, this ain't the end, I saw you again today...I had to turn my heart away." Her voice transformed into her version of the smokey tones of Anne Wilson and he prayed for a quick death. This woman in singer mode was sex personafied. Anne may have had a voice, but he bet she wished she could control a man's libido like this woman.



"Smile like the sun, kisses for everyone," she licked her lips, her blue eyes dancing with the absolute torture of it. "And tales it never fails."



The song was all metaphore and of course she emphasized every line that would drag her vocals into the lower, darker registers of a growl. Pride kept him playing even as he wished he hadn't started it. He figured it would have suited his sister more, but Steph shrugged into the role of a temptress and sold the song enough that he could almost take himself out of the sexual haze and just sit there in awe of her power. In the end, it got to wrapped up in the music and the web that this woman weaved around him.



He was fucking sunk.



The door swung wide with a thunk against the wall. "Glad you have no lasting effects from your joy ride, Stephanie."



The guitar solo he'd been about to start jerked into a sour twang. "Hey, Doc." He slowly lifted his guitar off his lap and unplugged. "What's up?" He recognized the high color and too wide eyes. He recognized it just a little too well.



"What? I'm not sufficiently chastised, Doc?"



Richie's gaze swung to Steph, surprised that she'd sass back. The one thing she'd done since starting the tour was show respect to Doc--maybe a little too much for Doc's shitty behavior sometimes. Swiveling back to Doc, he asked again. "What's going on?"



"Oh, didn't your girlfriend tell you she stole a car with Jonny?"



"She what?" Richie laughed. They'd done some joy riding over the years, but that had been mostly on the second tour. It was too hard to get anywhere these days with the crowds. He crossed his arms, his smile wide. "C'mon."



"I'll admit that it wasn't my brightest shining moment, but Jon and I just had to get away from here for a little while. He really needed to to." Steph pulled a lollipop out of her hip pocket and clicked it around her teeth.



Richie tried to calm his instant reaction to that friggin' piece of candy and focused on Doc. "Okay, so they took a joyride. It's nothing worse than we've done in the past."



"You never stole a Porsche."



Richie whistled. "Nice."



"You are not helping, Sambora."



Richie stood up, shaking out the line of jeans, praying for some room to breathe. "C'mon Doc--"



"'Don't c'mon Doc,' me. I can't have your girlfriend dragging Jonny out into the public without some sort of bodyguards. Do you realize what could have happened?"



Richie frowned. She wasn't his girlfriend, first of all and secondly...Jonny needed to get out, just like the rest of them. Hell, worse the the rest of them. Jon hadn't had a break in God knows how long. "Is it that she left the premises, or that she took your precious meal ticket out to have a little fun? How many interviews did he miss, Doc?"



His face reddened even more and his ham sized fists clenched as he bore down on Steph. "That's not the point. This little bitch didn't think. You can be replaced you know."



Steph's jaw dropped. "We didn't do anything that bad! So, we have to play suck-up to the guy we stole the car from, but he's a fan!" she sputtered.



Richie took a step in front of Steph, putting a hand on his chest. His neck pricked and his jaw clenched. "Hold up. Doc, you don't know what you're saying. Let's all just relax."



"I know exactly what I'm saying," Doc stared up at him, his nose inches from Richie's chest as he tried to look around him. "Devotion's here as an opening act and any number of bands would be happy to do it. I can replace you in a less than ten minutes."



Steph surged forward and Richie blocked her with a hand to her waist. "Whoa there."



She pushed his hand away. "No, I have a right to defend myself. We've been an awesome opening act. We rarely go over time, we're always on time, we don't cause trouble--" She grabbed Richie's arm, her fingernails cutting deep as her voice shook. "This is shit!"



He smoothed a hand over her hair absently, but kept her behind him. "Okay, okay let's just relax here." Tempers were high, but he trusted Steph to hold onto herself more than Doc. Steph didn't have two nosefulls of coke riding in her veins like Doc did. He turned to Doc. "Where's Jon?"



Doc drilled a finger into his chest. "I don't know where that little fuck is. I'm dealing with her right now."



Reflexively, he wrapped his fingers around Doc's thick pointer finger and pushed him back a step. Their manager was mostly all bark, but he was built like a pitbull and could be just as mean when he wanted to. "No, you're dealing with me."



Steph peeked over his shoulder. "I can take care of myself!"



"Steph!" he warned and kept his eyes on Doc. "Devotion was chosen by the record company, not you Doc."



"I can make or break a reputation in this business!" Doc blustered.



"Just because we took a car out for an afternoon? I can't freaking believe this!" Steph backed away from him. He could hear her stomping around the room.



"Look, let's take a breath here," Richie said calmly, even though it wasn't even close to where his blood pressure was at. Between protecting Steph and his sister at the same time with the band crap, and now Doc growling at his--no, not his woman, goddammit!



"If this bitch thinks she's--"



Richie pushed Doc back a step. "If you call her bitch one more time, we're going to have a problem."



"What are you going to do?" Doc looked up at him, his eyes hot and blind on the rush of adrenaline and coke. "This little slut has a career because I say she has one."



One minute Richie was completely in control and the next, he had Doc backed into the wall, pictures crashing to floor with his forearm under his chin, lifting him onto his toes. He could hear Steph's voice in the distant background, but all he could focus on was Doc's mottled face. "She's not some groupie you can insult," he said through his teeth.



Steph's voice finally came into focus. "Richie! He can't breathe!"



Doc's eyes bulged and his color headed into purple. Rage pressed in on him for more. To hold on longer, to hurt him a little more. Steph's fingers dug into his shoulder and her pleading finally registered. He stepped back, letting Doc fall to the ground in heap. "Jon will deal with this mess. If I hear you threatening their contract with us again, I'll bruise more than your windpipe."



"You can bet I'll be talking to Jonny," Doc gasped out as he stumbled to his feet.



He wiped a layer of Doc's sweat off his forearm on his jeans and forced himself to take a breath. When that didn't help, he went over to the bag they kept their booze in and cracked a bottle of vodka pouring an inch into a glass and belting it back. He turned to Steph, his gut burning with vodka and shame at her startled look. "Aww shit," he muttered and pulled Steph in. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."



He pressed his lips to her hair, willing the crawling anger back down where it belonged. He so rarely lost his shit anymore. Five years ago Doc probably would have been in a hospital by the time he'd finished with him. Anger was something he didn't let out very often. He'd learned to channel the overwhelming part of him into music instead of anger that could flash so quickly to the surface. But when it came to Stephanie, things were never simple, and they were never easy.



Just one more reason to keep his distance. He had enough to deal with in his life than a woman that pressed every button he had. He let her slide away from him and groaned at her too bright eyes. Fear? He cupped her face, his thumb stroking along her cheek. "I'm sorry, Baby. I didn't realiz--" he cut off as she leaped into his arms, her mouth fastened to his.



He tried to back up out of her reach, knowing that her taste was going to take over. Her fingers fisted into his hair, sweet cherries and Stephanie flooded his mouth and he was done. He leaned down to her, surrounding her, his fingers snaking up her back with her hair dripping over his forearms. Teasing and tempting him to just give in. Why was he fighting it?



The lip lock popped like a seal as she broke the kiss. And without her mouth on his, he could think again. And he swallowed the fear, his thumb brushing her lower lip. He was fighting it because once he let her in, he'd never, ever let her out.



Ever.



Her summer blue eyes were wild with excitement. "I've never seen you do something like that--like that for anyone, but definitely not for me."



He backed up. "I shouldn't have done that."



Steph's eyes went from pleasure to blazing anger. "What? The kiss or pulling that very impressive wrestling type move on Doc the Dick?"



"Both," he blurted before he could think. Fuck. Dammit, fuck, shit, motherfucker. He dragged his fingers through his hair. "Wait, I need to think."



"Thinking is your problem," she hissed. She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek. "Stop thinking and just take. Please."



He closed his eyes against all that ernest passion. All he'd ever wanted was standing there eager and willing to be taken. And it wasn't just sex. He could have sex, he could deal with sex...if it was just sex he could have just gotten her out of his system. But with Steph it has always been more. It had always been all. He wanted to own her body and soul.



And that terrified him.



All that he could lose if he made a mistake--all he could lose if he wasn't her everything too.



She let his hand slip away. "I don't know why you just won't man up."



His eyes snapped open. All that anger was too close from his fight with Doc, his overwhelming feelings for her, and all his own baggage. "If it was just manning up, I'd have been buried inside you weeks ago and we'd have been done with it. It's more than that and you're deluding yourself if you think it isn't."



And for the first time she didn't say anything. She searched his face, her mouth slightly open in surprise.



"Exactly."



"Do you know where Jon is?"



He stood up straight and jerked in surprise, turning to the door where Dave stood. He jammed his hands in his pockets. "No," he cleared his throat, "I don't."



"Doc's on the war path. We should probably warn him."



Richie nodded, when he looked back down at Steph she'd slipped out the door. "Son of a bitch."



Dave quirked an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading. "God, you're so fucked."



"Shut up."



He snapped a salute at him. "Shutting up."





8.19.2010

NINETEEN

Richie rolled off the lopsided bed of the podunk nowheresville grade D hotel and twitched the blinds open. Al's deep snore didn't do anything to even out the restlessness. He closed the blinds again, of course the searing sunshine didn't help either. He'd plowed through a bottle of Smirnoff's last night and yakked up what was left of his guts a few minutes ago. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last time he'd done it, but shit...he usually knew when to stop just before the puke-zone.

After pouring himself into the shower, Al still didn't move. Of course, when Alec finally went down, he was out for a full day most of the time. That's what happened when you only slept once every four days.  He shrugged into his leather fringe, stuffing his shades on his face. They were off today, and it was time to get the hell out and away from everyone. Now he just had to con someone out of a car.

Doc wasn’t an option, not after the last time he'd dumped one of the executive's Beemer's off the side of the highway. He didn't remember that one, but then again, he'd lost a few weeks on the first leg of the tour. Too many women, too many nights of blow, and a case of vodka had scared him straight for awhile now. He was all about the parties, but waking up with a girl he didn't know, in a ditch on the edge of town was even beyond his level of fun. Ruining the trainey and bending the chasse of a BMW...not his finest moment.

He opened the door, wincing when his sister was on the other side, a similar pair of shades covering half her face. Her hair was scraped back in a high ponytail. She was decidedly unrocker girl today with faded jeans with only a slash of knee showing, boots, and vest over a tanktop, her jacket over her arm. She looked like his kid sister for once. He couldn't stop himself from tugging on her hair. "What's up brat?"

She held up two sets of keys. "You and me in a convertible, or you and me in a truck."

He raised his eyebrow in question.

"C'mon, did you forget?"

"Uh." He spun his ring on his pinkie, giving himself a minute. Nope, nada...he couldn't remember a damn thing except how much he hated the taste of vodka on the back of his tongue the next morning. "Yeah, evidently I did."

She sighed. "We've been talking about it since we started getting close to California, you schmuck."

"Look, brat, as long as it includes a greasy breakfast and...which one's the truck?"

Jamie dangled the keys in her left hand. He snatched them. "Hey!"

"Truck, me driving, and grease. Then you can remind me what I am forgetting."

"I can't believe you forgot," she complained yet again.

He slid his glasses down, meeting his sister's similarly blurry gaze. "Evidently we aren't moving until you put me in my place. So please, Princess Jamison tell me what I forgot."

"I'm not some prissy princess, that's Steph."

At the name Steph, he jammed his glasses back up  his nose and steered her around and down the hallway. He was not thinking about the blue balls and frustration he'd been chasing with vodka last night. And he sure as shit wasn't going to think about Steph and her soul ripping performance he’d caught the night before. No friggin' way. This was a Steph free day, goddammit. "Okay, Queen Jamison."

"I think Duchess has a nice ring to it," she said and let him push her down the hall.

"You would."

She snickered. "You promised that we could go to Voltage Guitars. It's a bit of a drive, but we have all day off."

"Oh, no shit." Instantly perking up, he grinned. He'd found Voltage on his first trip out to LA. He'd been told about the little out of the way place on the outskirts of Los Angeles. And the guitars there were enough to make him promise to give up a few molecules of his soul to play them. He slung his arm around Jamie's shoulder. "I can't believe I forgot. Just wait until you see this place, baby girl."

His little sister positively vibrated under his arm. If he was a geek for guitars, then Jamie was professor geek. She loved every inch of the building from the wood to the glue, from the headstock to the strings. Nothing was boring to her when it came to guitars. It was the one thing they could talk about for hours. And when his kid sister got a look at the room full of guitars she was going to just dissolve into....well, she might actually dissolve into a girl.

Richie ducked his head into the open doorway down the hall. Sure enough, Jon was pacing back and forth the base of a telephone hanging off his fingertips. "Yeah, sure we're excited to play Irvine. You guys in Cali know how to do it up right," Jon said in his PR voice.

"Jamie and I are heading out to LA for the day."

Jon flipped him the bird, then waved him off. Richie backed up into the hallway again, feeling a twinge of regret. Okay, so it was shitty that Jon would probably spend most of his day off doing interviews, but he got himself into that situation. No one fucking cared what he had to say when Jon was in the room anyway. He needed to get away and play music again, not just what was on Jon's setlist. Jamie stood back, her arms crossed over her chest, hugging her jacket to herself her eyes distant. "You okay, brat?"

She blinked, a bright smile returning to her face. Maybe just a little too bright. "Great, can't wait to see this place."

They made it out of the hotel without incident, and he took it as a good omen for the rest of the day. When Jamie only sighed and went for the passenger's side, he smiled wider. Yeah, this was definitely going to be a good day. She snapped out a map and the crinkle of paper reminded him of the various family trips they'd taken as kids. Of course going to the Jersey shore was a bit different than heading into Los Angeles, but no less exciting as far as he was concerned.

"Head north here." Jamie pointed to an interstate sign and he merged.

The big black truck felt right under his hands. The bench seat gave him more than enough room for his long legs. Considering he and Jamie were both on the tall side, it was a better fit for the hour long ride. She snapped on the radio and cranked it as REM's End of the World came on. It was a happy song, the sun was bright and the California smog was whispy instead of malevolent. It was gonna be a damn good day.

"God, I needed this."

Richie smiled at his sister. "I did too, brat."

She leaned back, crossing her legs at the ankles. "I'm glad you didn't totally bail on me today."

Okay, so he hadn't completely remembered, but he'd been up and out of bed for some reason today. Maybe subconsciously he'd actually been ready to get out and away from everything for a day. "I wouldn't bail on you. Hell, Jamie, I don't know what day it is half the time."

"I know." She crossed her arms over her belly. "It's been an awesome few months, but I really need this day away."

He glanced at her, his finger tapping on the steering wheel. Guy troubles? His belly twisted. If she started talking about some guy, he was going to have to go kill him. She didn't seem to be seeing anyone on the crew, but he'd been pretty thorough with anyone that had ever looked at her. His sister was off limits. He wasn't going to have some scumbag roadie touching her and every other groupie that batted their eyelashes to get backstage. "Everything cool?"

"Yeah, yeah. Nothing's wrong," she said quickly. "I just needed a day away from all the fucking estrogen on the bus. If I have to share a room with the bedhopping Tazmanian Devil for three more nights, I'm going to need some guitar lust fortification."

"Ash?" Jamie's eyebrow went up in that you're-too-stoopid-to-live quirk and he laughed. "I mean, I know she's a bit of a handful, but I didn't realize she--"

"She's a nymphomaniac's nympho."

He winced. "That doesn't sound good."

"Depends on your point of view." She squinted at him. "You haven't bounced on her have you?"

"God, no!" When her eyebrows rose in surprise, he lifted a hand in surrender. "Look, she's hot in a pixie on acid kind of way, but she'd probably kill me and scramble my ashes when she was done. Not that it's a bad way to go, but no thanks."

"Man, Richie!"

"What? You asked." He laughed, when she blushed through her tan. "Hey, I don't ask you about who you sleep with, and you don't ask me. It works better that way."

"Well, I'm going to upset the balance, so sorry in advance."

"Crap." He squirmed in his seat. He knew what she was going to ask, and being trapped in a truck with his baby sister when she asked about him and Steph was not his idea of a good time. "Look--"

She tightened her ponytail and recrossed her arms. "You know I gotta ask."

"It's complicated."

"It's only complicated because you're an ass."

He frowned. "You want us together?"

"Don't sound so surprised. It's taken me a few weeks to get used to the idea, but she's perfect as a built in sister-in-law."

"Whoa, let's not go there." Shock, terror, and a ball of ice hit him square in the chest. He wanted Steph--probably wanted her more than any woman on this earth, but he wasn't looking for forever yet. For God's sake, he was still in his prime. It wasn't time for rings and...well, other things. He veered away from the thought of Steph with a diamond winking off a rounded belly. Hell, no. He wasn't ready for that. Sure, someday, but not now. There was another ten years of touring and creating inside him. He didn't want to settle down yet.

"Yeah, I saw the world just flash in your eyes, buddy."

He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. "Well, did you catch the terror in there too, Zoldana?"

Jamie's smile was wide and a little too knowing. "Yeah, I caught that, but I also saw just how easily you saw a future with Steph. You guys are meant. I know these things."

"Well, cut it out. I'm not even thirty yet.”

“Just because you guys are meant to be together doesn’t mean I’m shuffling you off down the altar, big guy. There’s those happy, fuck like bunnies and be crazy days you know.”

He did know, but the possessive streak that came out in him when he thought about Steph didn’t have anything close to pretty about it. In fact, it was scary as friggin’ shit and he wanted to avoid it. Period.

“Well then, tit for tat sister mine.”

The laughter left her eyes and she slid down in her seat. “You don’t want to know my details, remember?”

“Oh, but it’s okay to butt in on mine?” He turned down the radio and pulled off the interstate. He saw a sign for food and passed the regular chain restaurants hoping to find a diner.

“Yeah well, my guys aren’t important. I’m just having a good time.”

It sure as shit didn’t sound like it when she got all surly. In fact, she was damn moody lately. He reached over and dragged down her glasses.

“Hey!” She batted his hand away. “What gives?”

The only thing he saw there was blood shot eyes and circles. Typical hangover and sleep deprivation stuff. The light changed and he shot around a Sunday driver, catching a tiny trailer looking diner set back from the road and slammed on his brakes.

She slapped her hand on the dash. “What is your deal?”

Instead of getting into it with her, he shrugged. “Food.”

“Of course it’s food,” she muttered and hopped out of the cab as he parked.

Gravel crunched under their boots. It was beyond out of the way. He’d almost missed it, except for the bright pink paint glaring out of the trees. He held the door for her, following her into a time warp. 1950 screamed from the ocean colored booths and chrome. The same pink from the outside found its way into the interior on the cracked stools bolted along the breakfast bar and booth cushions along the windows.

“Where’s Flo?” Jamie cracked.

His mouth twitched but he shuffled her forward.

“Sit anywhere, folks,” came a chirping voice from the back.

They both collapsed into a booth in a corner, Richie with his back to the door. Jamie dug a notebook out of her jacket, the mangled black and white composition cover reminding him of school. “Is that your—“

She held a finger up to him, scribbling furiously then jotting a few slashing notes along the bottom of the page. She looked up, the faraway look in her eyes focusing until her eyes were a steady gold again. She slapped it shut and shoved it back into the inside pocket.

“I’m not going to steal it, brat.”

She blushed, looking down at the counter then back up. “I know-it’s just something I’ve been working on and this place is perfect for one of the verses.”

“Devotion stuff?”

She lifted one shoulder, picking at her nails. “Not sure. It’s different than what Steph and I write.”

“Different’s not a bad thing.” He tapped her hand with one long finger, then drew back. “And solo stuff isn’t a bad thing, so don’t feel guilty if it’s just yours, you know?”

She met his eyes. “Do you write your own stuff away from Jon?”

Richie laughed. “Hell, yes. You gotta have your own stuff, even if you never do anything with it. It’s the only way you grow as a writer. What happens if one day I didn’t have Jonny in my life? I have to be able to do things on my own.”

She drew her feet up on the booth seats until she was sitting Indian style. “You guys aren’t having trouble, are you?”

“God, no.” He waggled his fingers at his sister. “Gimme a cig.”

Digging into her pocket she frowned at him. “How do you know I’ve got a pack?”

“You always do. Crap habit, but I’ve been fiending for one for hours.”

She plugged one into her mouth and shook one out for him, lighting hers then sliding her Bic across the table. “There’s nothing else to do when you’re sitting around. If I ate all day, I’d be a fucking house.”

He laughed, blowing out a cloud of blue smoke above him. “Jesus, menthols?”

She shrugged. “Better high.”

“Better way to shred your lungs is more like it.” But he took another drag, the flood of nicotine easing the constant knot between his shoulder blades. “So, tell me, what’s going on with you and the girls. Everything cool?”

She looked away from him, picking at the worn Formica. “We’re cool. Just looking forward to some time off at the end of July. I need to get away from everyone.”

The efficient waitress slid an ashtray on their table with a hello, breaking the first good talk they’d had in a long time. “Hey, I’m Flo. What can I get you?”

Richie and Jamie looked at each other, a laugh springing up between them. He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back, stretching out his legs. “Well, Flo, I want the greasiest breakfast you can come up with.”

And indeterminate forty or fifty, the trim woman with blonde hair bigger than Jon’s on a good day, smiled down at him, snapping a piece of gum. “I’ll take care of you big boy, don’t you worry.” She turned to Jamie. “And you, darlin’?”

“The biggest OJ you’ve got, pancakes and plenty of butter. Throw in some bacon, nice and crispy too.”

“Healthy appetites, that’s what me and George love to hear. Be back in a jiff.”

Jamie leaned forward “Oh my God, we really are on Alice.”

Richie’s head fell back with a laugh. Man, it was nice to get away from everyone. Half an hour later, they rolled out of the diner with a backwards wave and a doggie bag with fruit for lunch to make up for their gluttony. They climbed back into the truck, both of them groaning with full bellies.

“Oh my God, why did you let me eat like that?”

Jamie snickered. “Like I can stop you when it comes to shoveling in food?”

“Okay, you’re right, but man, nothing’s better than diner grease.” Especially when it soaked up the last dregs of vodka that had tried to eat his stomach lining.

Not exactly Los Angeles, more like one of the surrounding cities, they picked their way down a few side streets, only having to turn around twice, before they found the tiny sign for Voltage.

“This is the almighty Voltage Guitars?” Jamie sounded disappointed.

“Hey, don’t let the outside fool you. Inside is magic.”

Finding a parking spot a few buildings down, he muscled his way around a woman with an inventive spray of Spanish that had been eyeing the spot. Richie flashed her a smile and watched her jaw drop open. Did it make it better if he was famous and he snagged the spot she wanted? He waved to the woman.

She woman scrambled out of her car, but not before he and Jamie got inside. The slap of air conditioning against the heaviness outside was welcome and just like that he dropped all his worries. Walls yawned wide with guitars hanging from every spare inch.

Some were high end, some were middle of the road, but all of them were well used, well loved, and called to him.

“Holy shit,” Jamie whispered with reverence.

He pushed her inside, leaving her to drool as a tall man came out from the back. A forgotten pair of glasses clung to the tip of his long nose. His hair was pulled back, the beginnings of time creeping away from his forehead to leave wispy graying temples tufting around the ear stems. Recognition flared in his sharp dark eyes. “Richie Sambora, you son of a bitch.”
 
“Hey Lloyd, it’s been a long time.” Richie held his hand out to shake.

Lloyd Chiate was a legend in guitar circles, and while there were other guitar places in the area, his shop was by far the best. Not all of the guitars were even in his price range, but the lust was more than enough to compensate.

Lloyd pumped his hand. “I swear you have ESP, boy. I just got something in this morning that practically screamed your name.”

Richie’s mouth watered. “Yeah?”

Lloyd whipped off his glasses, stuffing them in the pocket of his work shirt. “Ah yah.” He opened a side door where all the high end guitars were held. “You might need to rob a bank when I show it to you though.”

He groaned. He already maxed out two of his credit cards buying gear for the tour. He wasn’t even close to paying any of it off. Rubbing his hand against his jeans, he followed Lloyd. The room was small and showcased maybe half a dozen guitars from Fenders to Gibsons, but it was the single guitar taking up center stage that called to him. The bright cast of gold perfection encompassed the entire body all the way through the neck. It nearly glowed off the wall mount.

“One of Les’ beauties. Not too many of these around.”

With hushed reverence, he lifted it up and off. It felt right and true in his hands. Even the smaller frets didn’t bother him. Looking around, he settled into a chair next to an amp. With deft fingers, he tuned it to his preference and strummed with his thumb. He fussed with a few dials, it had obviously been in storage for awhile.

“A 1954 Goldtop. I haven’t had a change to play with it too much, the sound is…” he trailed off when Richie tore through a few chords.

“Oh man, Lloyd, are ya trying to kill me?”

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it.”

Richie looked up to find his sister in the door. “Think again, brat.”

She slowly moved into the room, her eyes taking in every guitar. She was unusually quiet, which dragged his attention away from the guitar. Se slowly walked down the line of wall mounts, her reverence obvious. Richie grinned when Lloyd’s sharp eyes land on Jamie. He’d probably thought Jamie was one of his various girlfriends. “L, this is my sister, Jamison Sambora.”

One graying eyebrow rose and he stroke his goatee. “I should have known. She’s got the same predatory look about Gibson’s that you do, my friend.”

“A really high end one has been out of her price range, but she does love them.”

“It’s a Sunburst, 1954—“

“L4,” she finished, her fingers hovering over the neck.

“Go ahead, pick it up,” Lloyd encouraged.

“Really?” She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide. She immediately wrapped her long fingers around the neck and lifted it off the mount. The deep coloring told Richie it was probably somewhere in the brown family, and the burst of color that radiated out from the center was as warm as the sun. “She’s gorgeous.”

Lloyed grinned approvingly and waved her over to the other leather chair in the room. “Plug in, love.”

Jamie didn’t hesitate this time, she dropped into the chair cradling it close as if it had been made for her. She dug a pick out of her pocket and strummed, instantly tuning as he had until the sweet sounds of something he’d never heard filled the room.

She closed her eyes, the sad song deep and full of longing. She played for herself, as it should be. And he realized that he’d never seen his sister like this. Oh sure, he’d seen her on stage, he’d seen her play the smaller venues when he got a chance, but he’d been gone for so many years now. All the years that she’d practiced and fallen in love with the instrument they shared.

Part of him had always wondered if it was a little bit of that competitive side of Jamie that had pushed her into the guitar. Hell, he hadn’t found the instrument until later in his life. But here in a room full of some of the oldest guitars he’d ever been around, she was one with this Gibson. And any guitar that became an extension of their living, breathing soul shouldn’t be denied.

“Wrap that one up, Lloyd.”

Jamie’s eyes popped open wide. “I can’t afford a ’54 Gibson!”

“I can.”

“You can not!” She stood up, handing the guitar to Lloyd, crossing her arms over her stomach.

Resolutely, he dug into his wallet. “I can, and I’m going to.” He looked at Lloyd. “You know I’m taking the Les too.”

Lloyd grinned. “Kismet, my old friend.” The older man held up his hand. “Look, your brother’s been one of my customers since I opened up, he’s got an account.”

Richie frowned. He sure as shit didn’t, but when his sister stopped sputtering, he kept his own mouth shut.

Jamie’s hands slid back down to her sides, and her voice evened out, hope flaring in her eyes. “I can pay for it on an account?”

Damn prideful, brat. He shoved his sunglasses on his face, so he could keep up the charade. Jamie knew him way too well.

“You were meant for the Sunburst, love. Take her. I couldn’t sell her to anyone else anyway.” Lloyd handed back the guitar. “In fact,” he held up one bony finger. “I’ll be right back.” He went back into the showroom.

Jamie’s golden eyes were earnest and filling with a happiness he hadn’t seen in a really long time. Damn, what was going on with his sister? “Richie, he’s not pulling my leg right?”

He just shrugged. “L knows these things, I’m not arguing with him.” There, not a lie.

Lloyd came back with a guitar strap in the same deep color as the body of the guitar. Again, with his colorblindness, he had to guess it was brown, but the hand tooled lettering was plain to see. The words: Love, Loyalty, Passion were etched into the leather. The leather was supple and well worked, and when he hooked it to the guitar, Lloyd immediately dropped it over her head. It fit perfectly across her shoulder, the scrolling letters that made up love, curved under the tail of her hair and disappeared behind her back.

“Oh, Mr—“

“If you call me Mr anything, the deal’s off, Jamie.”

She smiled up at him, her gold eyes bright with tears. “Lloyd, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Richie felt the sting in his own eyes in reaction. His baby sister didn’t cry about anything, but throw a near priceless guitar over her shoulder and there came the waterworks. Figured. He curled his arm around her shoulders and dragged her close kissing her forehead. “Thanks, man,” he said simply.

And as always Lloyd understood. One of the reasons his shop did so well, was because he could read owner and guitar before the client even knew himself…or in this case, herself. Jamie settled back into the chair and Richie let her play, following Lloyd out into the showroom to firm up payment.

“You made her whole damn, year L.”

“There’s magic in that girl. You make sure she keeps playing. I haven’t heard anyone play like that in a lot of years.” His dark eyes twinkled. “She might even be better than you, Sambo.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “She took lessons, I taught myself. I’ll always be better.”

Lloyed tipped his head back and his baritone laugh filled the showroom. “We’ll get you set up and then,” his eyes danced, “you’ll let this old man play a little with a pair of hothead, rock and roll stars, huh?”

He let the old comment slide and Richie nodded. “Damn right.”

The Music

I'm no songwriter, so I snag music through the ages. Reality has no business in this story, so if I like the tone of the song, the words, the fun--anything goes. You'll see songs from 80's, 90's & Today. click on the links above for vids and downloads.
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