One Hundred Three

Richie wrinkled his nose to edge the sunglasses up on his face while guiding the rental car through the gates of the Bongiovi home.  Trying to pull off a carefree attitude for the next two days was going to suck.  His best hope was that Jon wouldn’t ask too many questions, and would keep him busy as hell with whatever nit picking changes he decided to impose on the new songs.

Parking the vehicle in a prime spot by the front entrance of the main house, he decided to bypass it this time, making a direct line for the studio instead.  Staying away from Dot was in his best interest.  Damn woman had the nose of a bloodhound when something wasn’t right. 

Coffee in hand, he pushed open the door and stepped into the chaos that was Sanctuary Sound.  For the time being it was only chaotic in the fact that there was production and musical equipment strung from one end of the building to the other.  The people chaos would come later.  It was mandatory for the creative process.  Something about stirring the musical forces around them, or some other Star Wars sounding shit. 

But for now, it was just him and the familiar comfort that only the studio could offer.  He sat down on his favorite stool, taking a deep swallow of the coffee before placing it safely away from the equipment. Comfort was good. 

“Hey man.”

The voice came from the production room behind him, and he spun to find David sitting at the mixing board. 

“Hey.  What’s up?”

He grinned that goofy Joker grin, letting Richie know he was up to no good.  “Oh just rearranging things in here so Obie can find them a little easier.”  He held up a mixing knob in each hand.

Richie surprised himself by chuckling.  He didn’t think he’d find anything funny today, but trust David to draw it out of him with one of his infamous juvenile pranks.  “You’re a menace, Bryan.”

“If I weren’t, you all would kick my boring ass outta here,” he snorted, putting the knobs back and wandering out of the booth.  He clapped Richie on the shoulder, asking quietly, “How are ya?”

“Hangin’ in.  It helps knowing that it’s just a couple of days.”

“And why is it you’re giving her the couple of days again?  Why aren’t you out there combing the streets instead of here?”

He’d asked himself the same question a dozen times, in a dozen different ways.  No matter how he phrased it, the answer was always the same. 

“Because she asked me to,” he said simply.  “I don’t know what’s going on in her head, but I do know how determined she is.  Showing up and dragging her ass back isn’t gonna work until she’s had a chance to do what she needs to do.   I have to give her that chance.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Maybe,” he agreed.  “But I love her enough to respect her wishes as long as I can.”

He must have SOUNDED like an idiot, because a peculiar look passed over Dave’s face.  Richie wasn’t sure what it meant, and the studio door swung in before he could ask.

“Sweet Jesus, the world is coming to an end!  Richie Sambora is here on time and ready to work!” Jon clasped one hand over his chest and put the other up to the sky.  “Lawdy, lawdy, repent now for the end is nigh!”

“Fuck you.”

Laughing, he clapped his friend on the back good-naturedly as he walked toward the booth.  “You don’t have that all out of your system yet?”

Richie’s eyes conveyed an unspoken message to David, who stood silently drinking his own coffee by the piano.  A slight dip of his head made clear his agreement to stay that way.

“Eh, she’d already left by the time I got there.”

Jon stopped in his tracks, turning and placing hands on hips with a frown.  “I thought you said she was gonna wait for you.  Where the hell have you been since Thursday night?”

“Well, DAD,” Richie drew the word out with a heavy dose of sarcasm.  “I had a kegger and trashed a hotel.  They’ll be calling you about the damages.”

David choked back a laugh, but managed to hide his smile behind the coffee cup as he pretended to take a drink.

Relenting with a sigh, Richie said nonchalantly, “We had a miscommunication.  She was already gone when I got there, but left me a note saying she’d be in touch as soon as she could.”

More or less, anyway.

“And you’re okay with this?”  Jon appeared skeptical, which was what Richie had been afraid of.  He had to play this very carefully, or there would be a thousand questions that he didn’t feel like fielding.

Just keep it light, Sambora.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

With a snort Jon reminded him, “You were hell-bent on getting to Philly in the middle of the fuckin’ night so you could stop her.   Pardon me for thinking you may not be thrilled.”

Richie gave a seemingly careless shrug and reached for a guitar.   “She’s gotta do her thing, man.  Same as I do.”

“Hey, Boss Man.  You gonna fire Teek for being late?” David inquired.  “Because I would fire his Cuban ass for making you wait.  No respect, ya know?”

He barely had a chance to finish the sentence until the man in question sauntered in, his own cup of coffee in tow. 

“You just missed Lemma throwing you under the bus,” Richie informed the older man, grateful for the distraction.

“It isn’t the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last,” was the disinterested response.

“Okay, you bickering fucks.  Let’s get to work.  I don’t want to spend the whole damn weekend on this.  Where the fuck is Obie?” Jon grumbled, withdrawing his phone to fire off a text message.  “Do I gotta do everything myself?”

♫♪♫

David slipped outside under the premise of exercising his numb ass with a walk around the grounds.  They’d been hitting it hard most of the day, with barely a break.  Jon was in full-on Hitler mode, working their asses off until Dave had finally just walked out, threatening to call the AFL-CIO.

Jon’s friggin’ work ethic was screwing with his timetable. There was sleuthing to be done, and he needed to make some calls.  How was he supposed to do that with his ass parked behind a baby grand in a room full of people? 

Especially Richie.  God, he was pitiful.  Of all the songs to work on today, it was one of those boy-girl songs harping about ‘what do you got if you ain’t got love?’  He looked like someone had kicked his dog, and even ended up telling Jon that Bobby should do the guitar intro.  Richie giving up the guitar part?  It was all the more reason to move forward with his research.

Walking across the rolling lawn, he decided that the bench down by the river would give him the privacy he was looking for.

Intent on making the most of the time he had, David tapped the first number on the list.  He had accumulated five likely options during his nocturnal internet research the night before. Waiting patiently for someone to pick up on the other end, he was optimistic that this could be the one.

Three calls later, he still hadn’t found the answer he was looking for.

There are still two more to try. If those don’t pan out, I’ll expand my search.  I WILL find her.

David was just about to tap the next number when a whiff of cigar smoke heralded Tico’s arrival.  Stifling a sigh, he crammed the phone in his pocket.  “What’s up, old man?”          

Teek circled the bench, seating himself alongside David and stretching his legs out in front of him.  One ankle crossed casually over the other, and he folded his hands across his stomach.

“With me?  Nothing.  But I’m wondering what’s up with you.”  Two perfect smoke rings floated out over the Navesink River.

Mimicking the same stretched out pose, David feigned ignorance.  “My ass was shaped like a piano bench and completely numb.  I thought I’d take a walk before lack of blood flow necessitated amputation.”

“What’s going on with Allegra?”

A lifetime together seriously cramped the ability to be dishonest. The dumb, goofy blonde act had lost its ability to dazzle Tico a long time ago, but he kept at it for lack of a better plan.

“I have no idea.  Didn’t she go to save the world, one flooded holler at a time?”

He never saw the hand coming at him from behind.  There was only silence and then a meaty palm bouncing off the back of his skull.  David jackknifed into an upright position, rubbing the offended spot with a scowl. 

“Dammit Teek!  What the hell was that for?”

“For playing me stupid.  Again.  I’m getting tired of it Lemma.”  He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, puffing like an agitated freight train on the cigar clamped firmly in his mouth.  “Since you won’t confess, I’m gonna assume that I know what I know and give you the ass chewing that you shouldn’t need.”

“You’re talking in riddles, Confucius.” 

Maybe if he talked in circles long enough, they wouldn’t have time for this little interlude to play out.

No such luck.  Tico ignored him, intent on what he had to say.  “Allegra is family.  Doubly so, now that she belongs to Richie.  Don’t get your head lost someplace that you’ll regret later.”

The threat was vague enough that he could deny the accusation without really lying.  “You’ve told me she’s family from the beginning.  I’m blonde, not stupid.  I know she’s family.”

Craggy, pissed off features zeroed in on David’s face and Tico flatly stated, “She’s Richie’s.  You’re not gonna date, fuck, fall in love with, or marry her.  End of story.  Comprende?”

David fought to bottle the annoyance that flared like a roman candle.  Tico had no right to say that shit to him.  He hadn’t done anything wrong, and he wasn’t going to sit here and be chastised like some errant schoolboy.

And he sure as hell wasn’t going to dignify it with a response.  Without a word, he rose from the bench and strode back in the direction of the studio.

♪♫♪

Midnight on Saturday night, and Allegra was once again awake staring at the ceiling.  Her fourth night back at the cloister and she’d had no more than an hour or two of sleep each night.  On the odd occasion that she did manage to slip into an exhausted slumber, it was disturbed by what she assumed to be a panic attack.  Since she’d never had them before, she wasn’t sure, but the erratic heartbeat, labored breathing, and a complete feeling of abandonment had her trembling under the blankets and reaching for the lamp to chase away the shadows.     

Allegra, this is ridiculous.  You’re a strong person, and you’re doing the right thing.  There’s no reason to feel panicked OR abandoned.  Everything is going to be fine.

Even though God still hadn’t sent along anyone to offer encouragement or support – despite her repeated requests. 

Guess I’ve been moved to the ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ list, she thought, absently scratching her cheek.  Startled at the sharpness of the bone, she lifted both hands to her face.  It didn’t even feel the same anymore.

Tracing hollowed cheekbones, she knew that the lack of rest was becoming physically evident, and looked haggard even to her own eyes.  Dark circles were beginning to shine from under dulling eyes, and her skin definitely didn’t have the pregnant glow she’d always heard about.  Sallow was a more apt description.

Honestly, it surprised her.  With all of the time she’d spent in the garden the last two days, she should have some much needed color AND be drained enough to rest. 

Sister Mary Clementine was a character, but she was so very sweet that Allegra couldn’t help becoming attached to her.  She was passionate about the flowers that had been placed in her care, and her ideas for the garden’s design were both clever and fitting.  The Reverend Mother Superior was delighted with the way it was taking shape, as was the Bishop himself.  The Sister was a welcome addition to Blessed Sacrament, even with her unique challenges.

As far as those challenges went, Mary Clementine hadn’t mentioned a word about the mysterious ‘that’ today.  Allegra didn’t know if that meant it was just a good mental health day, or if her cloudy memories had cleared enough to realize that whatever it was no longer existed– or at least didn’t pertain to Allegra.  Maybe tomorrow would provide that answer.

Her hand slipped under the hem of her nightshirt, seeking out the still flat plane below her navel.  Tentatively exploring, she searched for any sign of change in her tummy, but it felt just the same as it always had.  Morning sickness was still mysteriously absent too, making her wonder about the reliability of the doctor’s diagnosis.  All women got morning sickness, didn’t they?  Was it just not time for it to start?

Searching fingers moved up her torso and gently probed at the base of her breasts.  She did note that they were a bit tender.  No bigger, only feeling much as they did every month before her period. 

Dispirited, she brought both palms to drape across her stomach.  So far this baby had been just that – ‘this baby’.  It was a fact, not a person, and she had yet to think of it as her child.  Whether that was from denial until she had confirmed the paternity, she didn’t know.

Paternity. 

She shook her head in disgust. 

All of her carefully executed plans to vanish, and she’d forgotten one important detail:  DNA.  As in she didn’t have a sample of Richie’s to compare with the results of the paternity test.  Granted, she had some time to figure out how to deal with it, but what was she supposed to do?  Corner him and snatch a couple of hairs from his head?  Ransack his luggage for a toothbrush?

No, it was not one of her finer planning moments.

A loud knock echoed through the silence, causing Allegra to jump and immediately snap her head around to check the time.  The clock read one in the morning.

Who could be calling this late at night? 

She tossed back the covers and hurried into her robe, calling “Who is it?” as she tied the sash.

“Sister Mary Clementine.”

Apprehension gripped her, and she hoped that nothing was wrong.  Quickly snapping the lock on the door, she turned the knob and anxiously opened it.

“Sister Mary Clementine.  Is something wrong?”  Allegra hurriedly looked her over from head to toe.  Everything appeared to be normal, but something had to bring her knocking in the middle of the night.

The Sister’s smile was serene.  “Why not at all, Sister Francis.  I’ve just come to return a journal that got left behind when you departed Our Lady of Grace.”  She presented Allegra with a small red leather book, the page edges yellowed and wavy.  “I knew it was of a personal nature, so I didn’t trust anyone else to deliver it.  I had faith that God would cross our paths again and I’ve kept it safe in the meantime.”

She called me Sister Francis.  She thinks I'm Frannie.

Allegra felt herself go numb as her fingers wrapped reverently around the aged leather.  No, this technically wasn’t hers, but it belonged to her more than anyone else in this world.