Chapter Twelve

Richie was not in a very good mood. Jon had flatly refused to change his mind about dissolving the Bon Jovi Alliance and the talk had ended in a stale mate. At one point Richie had got so angry he’d threatened a law suit which hadn’t gone down too well. Both men had gone to their respective beds angry. This wasn’t the first time they’d gone to bed angry with each other for either of them but Richie had felt that it might just be the last time if Jon did what he was threatening to do.

He picked up the envelope he’d found on the kitchen table and reread the letter.

‘Rich,

I know you’re angry with me and think I’ve gone off my head and maybe I have but when you’ve been responsible for the death of someone you love then it puts life into perspective and I don’t wanna be who I am anymore; the person I’ve turned into. Meeting Abby has made me see who I could become.

I have to go out for a couple of hours, I’ve left a credit card in Abby’s name in the envelope for her. Can you take her into Manhattan Xmas shopping? Take care of her Rich.

Jon.’

Richie blamed himself. He had seen Jon every week after the accident and hadn’t seen that Jon was slowly crumbling. Damn him! Damn his ‘keep it all inside’ attitude. Richie slumped down on the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Jon was falling apart inside and there wasn’t a damn fucking thing he could do to stop it. Dorothea hadn’t helped, slapping divorce papers onto what must have been an already fragile psyche just weeks after the accident. He laughed mirthlessly. What a fucking mess and if he was the one left to try and pick up the pieces then they were in a whole lot of trouble.

It wasn’t that Richie wasn’t capable of dealing with problems it was that he chose not to. He just didn’t want to deal with them. That was what Jon did, what Jon was best at. The CEO of the Bon Jovi Corporation while Richie was just a board member who preferred to sit back and jam.


Abby sat in front of the huge mirror and ran a comb through her curls as best she could. Her ribs were still mending and it hurt like hell to raise her arms above her head. She’d woken up alone and still wasn’t sure whether Jon had come to bed at all. She’d been living with him for a few days now and it no longer felt weird. She felt at peace, even if her memory had gone for a Burton.

She stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was glowing and her hair shone with health and vitality. She was surprised as it hadn’t been that long since she’d been in a forced coma. She had on black skinny leg jeans and the palest pink cashmere sweater that should’ve clashed horribly with her red hair but strangely didn’t. She had a pair of black Timberlands on her feet, her one concession to her leg injury, as she’d desperately wanted the 4inch high black strappy stiletto’s that they’d seen whilst shopping for her. She’d begged Jon for them but he’d stood fast and refused to buy them. She’d tried giving him a puppy dog look but he’d countered with his version and she’d had to admit he was far better at pouting than she’d ever be. So, she was stuck with the Timberlands and some flat black pumps until her leg was better. She thought of Jon’s face pouting in the shoe shop and felt a strange kind of fluttering inside. She was still trying to analyse it when she reached the kitchen.

“Hey Abs.”

“Hi Richie. Good Morning, how are you?” she replied, smiling, “Have you seen Jon?”

“He’s gone out.” Richie replied, sipping his fourth coffee. “He’s left some cash for you for Xmas shopping and asked me to take you into Manhattan. If you’re up for it, that is.” he said, his brown eyes twinkling.

“Oh. Yes, that would be lovely.” Abby replied, as she took a seat at the kitchen table after helping herself to a coffee.

“You ok darlin’?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, just…I thought he might say goodbye to me before leaving.”

“Ah, well, you know Jonny. When he’s got something in his head it’s hard to get anything else out of him. He’s a stubborn son of a bitch sometimes.” Richie said, with a bit more anger than he wanted to show.

“Are you two ok? Did you have an argument or something last night? I mean, I know something happened…” she trailed off, not really knowing whether to say she’d heard most of the blazing row the night before, or not.

It must’ve shown on her face and Richie suddenly looked contrite.

“Ah, I hope we didn’t keep you awake. We can get quite heated when we disagree. But it’s nothing darlin’, just something that’s been simmering for a while and should’ve been dealt with a long time ago. We’ll be fine, hell it ain’t the first time we’ve ever argued. And at least we didn’t throw things at each other this time.” he smiled.

“Throw things?” she asked, intrigued by this revealing of another side to Jon.

“Hell, yeah, the first thing Jon ever threw at me was his shittin’ guitar!. We were overwrought, all of us, at the end of the Jersey Tour and had been arguing on and off for days, weeks even. He and Dot were getting really hot and heavy and he’d disappear for hours without anyone able to get in contact with him, which meant we couldn’t practice and then one day he couldn’t speak and I thought he was putting it on a bit so I lost my temper and accused him of pulling a fast one just cause he wanted to spend more time with Dot. Next thing I know this guitar comes whizzing through the air and catches me on the back of the head. I hit the deck, out cold, ya know, and end up in A&E having stitches put in a gash on the back of my head. Turns out Jon had polyps on his vocal chords and really couldn’t speak and had been going off to visit his doctor. He hadn’t said anything as he didn’t wanna scare us all as it was touch and go for a while whether he’d be able to sing again. But he had them removed and everything was ok.”

“Oh my god, did you get a scar?”

“Oh yeah, though it’s faded by now, there’s still a little bit of a bump, just under my hairline at the back.”

“Have you thrown anything at him?” Abby asked. She was really intrigued now at the thought of grown men throwing objects at each other like toddlers in a temper tantrum.

“Er, a mug of coffee, a torch, my mobile, no make that mobiles, and…oh yeah, a cowboy boot. Tico and Dave just used to duck under whatever was there until we’d got it out of our system. Alec would just sit in the corner and shake his head, like we were kids fighting over a toy,” Richie caught a look at the apprehension on Abby’s face, “Oh hey, don’t worry Abs, we haven’t thrown anything for years, only our voices at each other.”

“That’s good to hear,” she got up to go and get her coat and turned back, a wry smile on her face, “A cowboy boot? Really?”

“Yeah, I caught Jon trying to sneak somewhere he shouldn’t have been going so I threw my boot at him. If you look closely he’s got a very small scar in his eyebrow, where it hit him.”

“Where was he trying to sneak into?” She asked, wondering.

“Sorry babe, Jovi Family rules; if you weren’t there you ain’t getting told about it.” he shrugged, palms up.

“Ok, ok. I won’t ask.” she smiled as she went to get her coat.

The drive into Manhattan was fun. Richie was a funny man to talk to and soon had Abby in peals of hysterical laughter at some of the more outrageous exploits that he and Jon had got up to in the Eighties.

The limo driver pulled up outside Saks on Fifth Avenue. Abby had taken a moment to take the card out of the envelope to put into her handbag and had gasped as she read the hand written note attached.

‘Hey babe
This card is for you. I had it put in your name and the limit is $50,000. It’s for you to do whatever with. Don’t feel you have it spend it all at once! J

Jon
Xxx

$50,000? What the hell am I going to spend fifty grand on? She thought as she shut her handbag and followed Richie out of the Limo.

They entered the opulent store and a manager, dressed in an expensive suit, or someone Abby took to be a manager, came running over.

“Mr Sambora, welcome to Saks Fifth Avenue. My name is Christian and I will be your personal shopper, if you have need of me.”

“Thanks Christian, but I think we’re fine at the moment. If I need you I‘ll wink.” Richie said, smiling at the simpering salesman.

Abby looked at the forlorn young man as they walked away from him.

“Is he not a manager?” she asked, trying to keep up with Richie’s long strides.

“Nah, he’s a personal shopper.” He replied, walking on ahead, unaware of her plight.

He headed to the watches section as he wanted to get himself a new one. Not that he needed one, no, he just wanted it.

He turned to talk to Abby to find her not there. He looked behind and spotted her a few shoppers behind him. Feeling guilty for not remembering about her leg, he turned and walked back to her. Taking her arm in his he looked at her, smiling at a man who was right behind her.

“Sorry darlin’ I forgot about your leg. Here hold onto my arm and we’ll take it slow.”

Abby smiled to herself. With that slow drawl of his, nearly everything he said came out as a sexual innuendo, whether he meant it or not. He smiled up at his open, honest and damn right sexy face and smiled… If she wasn’t with Jon… No, she shook her head. Get rid of that image, he’s Jon’s friend, hands off. Besides Jon’s the one you love.

Love.

Her eyes widened slightly as the realisation jackbooted its way into her conscious. She loved Jon. That would explain the fluttery feeling she got whenever she thought of him and the liquid heat he managed to install in her limbs whenever he touched her. With a lightness in her heart she walked slowly with Richie, over to the watches section.

-------------------------------------------

He couldn’t believe it. His Kitty Cat had just got out of a Limo in front of him. She’d looked straight at him and smiled before following a tall, dark haired man into Saks Fifth Avenue. It was a sign. She must still want him to chase her; why would she smile at him if she didn’t? He changed his route there and then and followed the couple into the department store. He walked behind them, his eyes on her only. He watched as she failed to keep up with the man and fell behind him. This was it. This was his big chance. He put on a burst of speed until he was right behind her. He could smell her perfume and one of her curls brushed against his cheek. He reached out to take her arm when the tall man appeared and beat him to it. He began to scowl when he realised the man was looking at him and smiling. He smiled back and melted back into the crowd. Anger and frustration rose in him but he smiled. He’d recognised the tall man as Richie Sambora, which meant that the blond man who’d rescued his Kitty Cat had to be Jon Bon Jovi. If Kitty cat was with Richie Sambora out shopping then it was a high probability she was staying with either him or Jon Bon Jovi. A plan was formulating as he made his way out of the packed store and into the cold, bitter air.

--------------------------------------------

Cartier Roadster XL Chronograph. Abby grinned as she looked at the watch. It was perfect for Jon. The stainless steel strap was masculine yet elegant and she just knew it would be perfect for him. She peeked at the price and her smile froze. $8575. Nearly nine thousand dollars and she bet that was without tax on top.

I guess I will be spending a lot of money today, after all, she thought as she handed over her credit card to the shop assistant who had so lovingly wrapped the watch for her, though Abby was sure that was more for Richie’s benefit as she watched the tall blond woman lean over the counter, lower than was necessary, just in order to show a little more cleavage. Abby took a quick peek at Richie. Yup, he’d seen and was enjoying the show.

Abby coughed, discreetly. Richie broke off from his cleavage show and looked at her. She raised an eyebrow to show she’d seen and he had the grace to look chagrined. At least, a little.

The assistant had finished whatever it was she was doing with the credit card and Abby entered the pin number she’d been given. A few moments later and she was standing holding the most expensive item she’d ever purchased. She was sure of it. Somehow spending all that money on one small item had seemed, for a few moments, incredibly decadent.

She put the card back in her handbag and waited as Richie concluded his purchase, which seemed to include the assistants phone number.

“Richie, you really are incorrigible.” she said, as he linked his arm in hers and led her to the jewellery section.