One Hundred Forty-One

Richie banged open the dressing room door, still angry beyond reason.  Criss hadn’t left Allegra’s side for the remainder of the show, and she had been way too happy about it for his liking.  Of course, take away the half hour before the concert – where Jon had essentially told him to shit or get off the pot – and Criss Angel wouldn’t have made the least little dent in his consciousness.  He normally didn’t have a jealous bone in his body but…

But he couldn’t take away Jon’s ultimatum.  And Criss’s presence had made him realize Allegra could be just as happy with someone else as she was with him.  

How long could he wait for her to ‘grow up’ before it became selfish on his part?  Before it became unfair to make her wait for marriage just because he was looking for some type of guarantee?  Maybe he should let her go.  Let her be with someone who didn’t have so many problems, doubts and – dammit – insecurities.

Fuck!

His sweat-soaked shirt was no more stripped over his head than a tap came at the door.  Without waiting for an invitation, Allegra slipped through it, a soft smile on her lips and an eager light in her eyes.

No.  I need more time before I do this.  Damn you, Jon for making me think I don’t have anymore time!

Her hips swayed seductively as she crossed the room, making him appreciate the dress he’d chosen for her.  The leather cutouts above her breasts gave an enticing visual tease that he wholeheartedly appreciated.  It had a skirt shorter than anything she would ordinarily wear, but he would make sure this wasn’t the last time she put those gorgeous legs on display.  Only next time, he’d be right by her side to keep everyone else away.

A silent curse swept through Richie’s mind at the thought. 

No I won’t.  I should walk away and give her a chance at what she deserves – someone to accept her as she is.

His skin burned when the leather sleeves of her dress glided over his bare ribcage and she wrapped him in a hug.  The heat of the stage lights had been nothing in comparison and Richie quickly grabbed her wrists, setting her away from him with an ill-tempered, “I’m all sweaty.”

Her brow puckered and she shook off his hands, placing one open palm in the center of his chest.  “I don’t care. I missed you.”

He stepped backward, willing himself not to feel anything – to remember the anger at seeing her lips on those of another man.  He forcefully recalled the disbelief at her presumptuousness in resolving his problems without him – and the disappointment in her determination to do things her way.

It worked.  Now he just had to get away from her until he could decide what to do.

“I’m going to shower and head over to the after party.  I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

Richie spun on his heel and had taken exactly one step when she grabbed him by the belt and jerked, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!  You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Let go,” he gritted without turning.  “This isn’t some game, I have work commitments.” 

Richie was mad at her for overstepping her boundaries.  He was mad at Jon for making this a do-or-die situation.  He was mad at himself for having such high expectations.  He was mad that his happily-ever-after may be falling in the toilet for the second time in his life – and that this time it hurt so much more. 

All those things collided together and built within him until his temper was barely tethered.  He didn’t want to unleash it – he just wanted to walk quietly away, but she wouldn’t give it up.

“It’s an after-party, not a performance,” she said, rolling her eyes and circling around so that she was in front of him again.  “Nobody will die if you’re ten minutes late.  Now tell me what’s wrong.”

She looked into his face and saw very little sign of the man she loved.  There was no glimmer of light in Richie’s usually warm, sparkling eyes.  A flat, cold anger had doused the warmth and it struck a tiny chord of fear within her.  The only time she’d seen him this upset was when he found out about her pregnancy.

“I am going to take a shower.”  He stepped resolutely around her trying to get to the bathroom, but she wouldn’t allow it.  One swift sidestep and she had blocked his path again, hand planted in his stomach.

“Is this about Criss Angel?  Because if it is, you’re being ridiculous.  I saw the way you looked at us, but he’s very much aware that you and I are a couple.  Honestly I think he was using me as a shield to keep the women away more than anything.”

But he wasn’t in the mood to listen to logic.  “Not now!” he growled.  “Just go back to the friggin’ hotel!”

Her jaw went slack as the intent of what he was saying slammed into her.  The hotel, not the after-party here at the venue.  Allegra took a half a step backward, looking at him with eyes narrowed in disbelief.  “So you don’t want me at the after-party?”

“No.  I don’t.”

Originally she’d been concerned, but his answer had turned that concern to hurt and shock, which in turn was an instant later consumed by fury.  He was being a big baby by not even offering a hint as to why he was so pissed off, and she would be damned if she let him get away with it.  The way he was acting, this would be the night he dove back into a bottle – and she wouldn’t allow that either.

She crossed her arms and, with a defiant tip of her chin, she tartly informed him, “Well, I guess that’s just too damn bad.  Talk to me or don’t – if you’re going, I’m going.”

The deafening crash of the bathroom door being slammed shut was the only reply she got.

♥  ♥  ♥

“Legs!”  David greeted her over the beat of the music, stepping forward for a hug only to be pushed aside by Richie.   Brows drawn in confusion, David watched him pass by without a word, submerging himself into the swarm of party-goers.  “What the hell’s his problem?”

“I wish I knew.”  She rose on tiptoe to return his hug while keeping Richie’s dark head in sight as he headed for the bar.  “He’s mad about something, but won’t say what.”

He placed his hand in the center of her back and guided her toward an empty high topped table.  “Did you two fight?”

“That would’ve been easier,” she remarked caustically, climbing onto the bar stool.  “I keep asking what was wrong and he’s just shutting me out.  I have no idea what horrible crime I’ve committed.”

For the next hour, Allegra did the only thing she knew to do, which was watch and wait.  She chatted off and on with the band members, all the while wishing Dorothea was here.  At least she would feel comfortable venting her frustration to Dot.  A phone call would be near impossible in this environment and she wasn’t willing to venture away to seek a quieter spot. 

When she couldn’t in good conscience monopolize the guys any longer, she pivoted her head, searching the room until she saw Richie standing alone at the bar.  Surprisingly, he was alone and drinking what appeared to be a glass of Diet Coke. 

I guess I’ll find out for sure.

Working her way through the slowly thinning crowd, she sidled up next to him and asked the bartender for a Sprite.  Richie’s fingers were loosely cradled around his glass, making it easy for her to lift it away from him without even making eye contact.  In her heart, she knew he wouldn’t allow her to drink alcohol because of the baby.

“I’m dying of thirst, and the bartender looks busy.  Can I have a sip until mine gets here?” 

Forceful fingers curled around her wrist like thin bands of iron before she could get the glass fully to her mouth.  The liquid never came close to her taste buds, but she didn’t have any trouble identifying the smell.  There may have been Diet Coke in there, but it was heavily laced with something much stronger.

“You’re not my mother, Allegra.”

She forcibly put the glass back on the counter and wrenched her wrist free, snapping, “No I’m not.  I’m just the woman who loves you.  The one who’s thinking about tomorrow when you don’t seem to care about anything past the bottom of that glass.  If you’d just friggin’ talk to me, this…” She waved her hand over the offensive drink. “…wouldn’t be necessary.  What happened to open communication?  Stop being such a damn man!”

“Yeah, well how about I just make my tomorrow none of your concern?  Does that make it any easier for ya?”  He bent his elbow and belted back half of the dark amber liquid in one gulp.

She couldn’t help herself.   Physical violence was never the answer to a problem, but she was so frustrated with him that she couldn’t use her words.  Allegra pounded his shoulder with the heel of her hand, face awash with blatant disbelief.

“What in God’s name is going on with you?”

She didn’t realize how loudly she’d spoken until Tico materialized between them, a press smile on his face.  “I think you two should finish this conversation in private.  People are becoming a little too interested.”

It took Allegra only a second to confirm his assessment of the situation.  The guests throughout the room were craning their necks to see what was happening with Richie and the woman who had just hit him.  Despite their relationship, Allegra was still a relatively unknown figure in the Bon Jovi circle, especially amongst this European group.  There were a few familiar faces smirking, but mostly she read morbid curiosity.

“Don’t worry man.  Allegra knows everything.  She’ll decide what’s best and clue me in eventually,” Richie grumbled, finishing off his drink and plunking the glass back down on the bar.  “Or not.  I’m going back to the hotel.  I’ve had enough.”

The music pulsing through the room made her voice barely discernible, and knowing that no one besides Richie and Tico could hear her, she seethed, “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

His voice was no quieter than hers, but brushing his lips next to her ear ensured that she was the only audience to his sarcastic, “What’s the matter darlin’?  Has running my life all by yourself become so natural that you don’t even realize you’re doing it?”

Allegra’s eyes sparked with blue fire and Tico quickly interceded, wrapping an outwardly friendly arm around her shoulders.  In reality, it was a grip strong enough to keep her anchored in place, effectively protecting Richie from the hailstorm of rage that she was ready to give free rein to.   

“Sambo, go to the hotel,” he spoke through a clenched jaw smile.  “I’ll make sure Allegra gets there shortly.”

“I’m going with him,” she asserted, trying to escape Tico’s grasp and follow Richie’s zigzag path toward the exit.  He nodded and smiled absently to a few people on his way through, but for the most part Richie kept his head down to avoid conversation.

Tico squeezed again, holding her at his side.  “Give him a few minutes to get a handle on it.  You and I will grab another car and be right behind him.  He won’t get in any trouble between here and there.”

“I don’t need an escort; I need to know what’s going on in his head!”  The frustration was threatening to smother her.  What did he mean about running his life?  She hadn’t done anything!  As a matter of fact, she had distinct visions of him controlling her, not the other way around.

His arm never leaving her, Tico pressed a kiss to her temple.  “This may be London instead of Detroit, but you’re not going anywhere this late at night by yourself.  Please bella.  My conscience won’t let me stand for it.”

Before she could argue or comply, Jon appeared before her, assuming an aggressive stance and strategically placing his back toward the room’s other occupants.  “Why are you beating the shit out of Richie in a room full of people?” he demanded.  “Private life stays private, babydoll.  Don’t air your dirty laundry in public.”

She couldn’t allow the misplaced admonishment to do more than glide over her consciousness or Allegra would end up in a fist fight with her cousin.  One harsh look promised that he would receive the next beating if he pushed her. 

“Don’t lecture me Jon.  I don’t have the time or patience for it right now.”  Summarily dismissing him, Allegra turned beseeching eyes on her self-proclaimed protector.  “Tico, can we go?”

Jon forced his scowl into a mask of congeniality as he watched his drummer usher Allegra from the after-party, all the while wondering what kind of storm was brewing in Sambora Land.