Chapter Twenty-Four

“Oh good, here comes Captain Sunshine,” Richie nodded toward Jon when he pulled up at the guitarist’s house that Monday afternoon. Dave snickered and Teek laughed, a scratchy growl of amusement that made Richie smile in spite of himself.

He really wasn’t all that bitter – just anxious about his best friend. Jon was smart as a whip, but he was also a romantic. And the combination didn’t always balance out. One trait usually won over, and Richie was worried that the singer’s heart was blinding his brain.

“Hey guys,” Jon said good-naturedly as he let himself into the Sambora manor. “Did you start without me?”

“How could we, man?” Dave waved at the sprawling paperwork on the table. “We need you to transcribe this shit for us.”

Jon laughed and set down his briefcase. “Did Obie call yet?”

Richie pushed a chair toward him. “Not yet. He said it would be around four.”

Tico cleared his throat as Jon sat down. “So where’s the lady today?”

“At work,” Jon replied. “Said she probably had to put in overtime.”

“So when do we get to meet her?” Tico reached for his beer.

Jon shrugged. “Eventually, I guess.”

“Eventually? Sounds like you’re pretty serious about this dame, Jonny, and we gotta meet her pronto. She needs the seal of approval.” Tico winked, and David laughed.

“Yeah, she needs to pass Teek’s test before we can allow you to go any further with her.”

“Too late. Knowing Jonny, they’ve gone as far as they can go,” Richie jeered. The table erupted in laughter.

“Fuck you,” Jon retorted good-naturedly. “Hey, are we here to work, or are we here to talk about relationships like a bunch of sissies?”

“So things are really going well, huh?” Dave asked, ignoring his comment and glancing sideways at Richie.

Jon nodded. “She’s great, man. I really – I just scored big time with this one.”

Something in his voice silenced the sarcastic comment Richie had been about to make. Maybe Jon had been right about what he’d said before – just because he’d been burned, and in a big way, didn’t mean things couldn’t work out the way they were supposed to. Jon didn’t fall very easily. He’d had flings, he’d had flirts, he’d had more than his share of one-night stands.

But this…it wasn’t casual anymore. Richie could see that now. The tone in Jon’s voice, the way he’d been acting recently – it was more than attraction. This woman had him well and truly hooked.

“You love her, don’t you.” Richie said it more like a statement rather than a question, but he still waited for an answer.

Jon looked up at him, slightly taken aback. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “I do.”

Richie nodded, quiet for a moment. “Good.”

Jon raised an eyebrow at him. “Good?”

Richie nodded as he took a pull from his beer. “It means she ain’t gonna come and go. She’ll stay.”

Jon eyed him, trying to figure him out. The sudden change from rejection to acceptance of Erin was confusing. “What does that mean?”

“You haven’t loved a woman in ages, Jon. They’ve all been in and out of your life - faster than you could blink sometimes – because they weren’t serious enough for you. They never fit the bill. This one obviously does.”

Jon glanced over at Tico and Dave. “He’s right, Jon,” the Cuban said in his low, gruff voice. “We haven’t heard you talk about a woman like this one in God knows how long. If she’s really everything you think and say she is, I’m happy for you.”

The table quieted again and Jon distractedly sunk into thought.

For some reason, his friends’ approval seemed to cement the fact that he’d fallen in love with Erin. And they hadn’t even met her yet. He was an independent, fly-on-his-own man, and always had been, but the introspection his bandmates showed on his behalf was uplifting. He wasn’t crazy. They knew him better than anyone in the world, and if they could notice a genuine difference in him, and have sincere faith in his newest venture, then he must be doing something right.

Feeling like a crazy teenager, he looked up and grinned. “Thanks, boys. Now fuck this girl talk and let’s get down to business, shall we?”

The guys laughed and Jon reached for the nearest folder on the table.

“Sambora – gimme a beer.”

______________________

Erin massaged her neck in the back of the cab on her way home. It was past eleven; she’d worked later than she had in weeks. Call after call, meeting after meeting, it never seemed to end. And she had to be back there in the morning, 8 o’clock sharp. With any luck, she’d catch a few hours of sleep after scarfing down something for dinner. She could already foresee several cups of coffee in the morning.

On nights like these, she wished she had a car. It would be so much easier – and more comfortable – to just hop in and drive herself home. But she didn’t plan on living in New Jersey forever, and she lived within walking distance to work; it would have been a waste of money. Although with the way the next few weeks looked, she’d probably shell out the equivalent of a down payment for cab rides.

The cabbie turned onto her street and she absently looked out the window. Same old suburban neighborhood – nothing out of the ordinary. Tiny, square, manicured lawns, porch lights glowing at every front door, the residence parking spaces filled with the cars of everyone home from work, hours earlier than she was. Not a thing out of place.

“This one, ma’am?” the cabbie slowed in front of her townhouse.

“Yes, this is it, thank you,” Erin pulled out a ten and leaned forward to hand it to him, glancing briefly through the windshield. A car a few houses ahead was parked along the sidewalk, and she absently marked her disapproval as she got out of the cab. Can’t park on the street, idiot, she mumbled to herself grumpily, you’re gonna get a ticket. She opened her purse to get her keys, fumbling around as she walked over to her mailbox.

She located her keyring and grabbed the small pile of letters and junk catalogs, thrusting them under her arm to close the mailbox door. As she did, she looked up, the parked car in her direct line of vision. She could just make out a dark silhouette through the back window, and she realized someone was sitting in the driver’s seat.

She froze. What the…?

Suddenly uncomfortable, she closed and locked the mailbox, then made her way up the walk to the front door quickly. She let herself in and locked the door behind her, slightly apprehensive.

It was probably nothing to worry about, she tried to tell herself, but living alone rendered her nervous about any suspicious activity in the neighborhood. And someone sitting in a parked car was definitely suspicious.

Without turning on the light, she set her stuff down on the table and made her way over to the window to reassure herself that it was just some lost out-of-towner, checking his map to see where he made a wrong turn.

And had parked his car.

And was sitting in the dark.

The car was still there, but as she watched, she heard the muffled sound of an ignition firing, and the brake lights flashed on.

The car looked oddly familiar, and Erin furrowed her brow. If it wasn’t eleven at night, she’d think someone was paying her an unexpected visit and had gotten the wrong house. She squinted, trying to make out the driver, but it wasn’t until the car pulled away from the curb and made a u-turn, firing down the street with a squeal of acceleration, did she register the curly-topped head.

Her eyes widened and she let out a gasp of surprise, her heart skipping a beat as she realized where she’d seen the car before.

And who the driver was.

Sunday, June 7, 2009