Chapter 13

With an irritated huff, Stephanie shoved her bag into the overhead compartment and closed the door.  It was time to leave paradise.  Reality was eagerly awaiting their return.  She frowned as she settled into her seat and snapped her seatbelt across her lap.  Their last couple of days hadn’t exactly been idyllic, to say the least.  After dinner the other night at Bloody Mary’s Richie had buried his nose in his ever-present notebook and his guitar had become a permanent fixture in his hands.  When he was that focused, it was near to impossible to distract him. 

And she had tried, oh she had tried.  Her new lingerie hadn’t done much more than earn her a quick fuck up against the wall.  Her offer of a blow job the day before had been shot down with a distracted, “thanks, but not right now.  Maybe later.”  He even went so far as to cancel their plans for renting four-wheelers to tour the island and a boat tour over to Mt. Otemanu.  She put her foot down when he wanted to skip the traditional Polynesian dinner last night though. 

She glanced out the window at the handlers loading the cargo hold with suitcase after suitcase.  She thought she had known.  She’d been a fan for all of the band’s 30+ years, she’d read about it, heard the stories from their own mouths.  But seeing it firsthand was an eye-opening experience. 

She didn’t particularly care for it, not right now anyway.  Maybe she would have felt different if they had been at home and not on their freaking honeymoon when inspiration hit him over the head.  This was supposed to have been their time together, just the two of them, before he went back on tour and she didn’t see him for weeks on end. 

Short of stealing that damned notebook, nothing had swayed him from his sudden pressing need to flesh out the next forty-seven Bon Jovi hits.  At least that’s what she assumed he was scribbling away at in that book. 

She let her glance shift sideways across his tray that was not in its upright and locked position for take-off.   His pencil was wreaking havoc across the paper.   She couldn’t make out the words, but there was a whole bunch of a lot of them on that page. 

Drawing her attention away from the window, she sighed again and stuck her kindle in the pocket under her take-off appropriately locked tray.  She knew she shouldn’t be so irritated by this all-consuming need to write, this was his job after all.  Maybe if he put that damn book away and looked at her, actually saw her, it would help.

She felt his fingers twine with hers.  The heat slid up her arm and left goose bumps in its wake.  Even irritated and frustrated with him, she couldn’t help her reaction to his touch.  She lifted her eyes to his.  He had become her whole world and, for better or worse, they were tied to each other and she was going to have to learn to deal with this part of him.  She would learn to deal with this, she wouldn’t be the angry, nagging wife that couldn’t deal with his job. 

“Hey.”  The low timber of his voice gave her a thrill.  “Everything okay, Sweetheart?’

His tray was now in its correct position for take-off and his notebook and pencil were stashed away in the seat pocket for later.  He wouldn’t have access to his guitar until they got home, but he was keeping the notebook close just in case he had another brainstorm.

“I guess.  Are you done writing?”  Mentally she regressed to age 8 and crossed her fingers while the word “please” rang like a mantra through her head. 

“For now, but you just never know when the bug will hit again.”

“Oh.”  Her fingers fidgeted with her seatbelt and the plane began to move.

“What is it, Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

The timing wasn’t perfect, nor was the place, but she needed to tell him.  “I’ve felt a tad ignored the last couple of days, Rich.”

He blew out a breath and tightened his grip on her fingers.  “I’m sorry Sweetheart, but this is what I do.  You’ve known that since before we got together.”  If she couldn’t handle this part of his job they were never going to last.

Her eyes, now closer to brown than the happy green he loved met his.  “I know there’s this unexplainable need inside you to write and make music, I get it, I do, but this was our honeymoon, Rich.  You promised me 10 days in paradise, just you and me, no distractions.”

“I can’t help when inspiration hits, Sweetheart.  After being at Bloody Mary’s the other night, it was like the floodgates opened and nothing would hold the flow back.  I had to get it out, had to get it down on paper before the words were lost to the ether.”  He studied her face.  He saw that she wasn’t angry, not really, irritation and hurt warred in her pretty hazel eyes.  He let his mind wander back over the last few days and he realized that in his excited rush to get the new music out, he hadn’t considered the timing or the place.  He just knew he had to get the words out of his head and onto the paper, everything else be damned.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart” he told her again, understanding what she was feeling, where she was coming from.  “All I can do is try to be more mindful of what’s going on around me when it happens again.”  There was no if in this equation.  It was most definitely when.  He could go for stretches with nothing, but inevitably, the muse would strike and he would be elbow deep in words and phrases.

Raising the armrest between them, she shifted in her seat and rested her head on his shoulder.  “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because you gipped me out of three days in paradise, but I will say I forgive you.  I know you never know when lightening will strike, but hopefully the next time, you won’t totally blow me off.”

He winced then, remembering just how he had rejected her not-so-subtle advances.  “Can I get a second look at that lacy, purple number you had on the other night?”

 She snickered and toyed with a button on his shirt, “considering you owe me a few more naughty adventures, I think that could probably be arranged.”  She lifted her head and looked to make sure no one was listening to them.  “A blow job is gonna cost ya though.”

He snorted out a laugh, “of course it will.”  He remember the bag from Sibani Perles.  It was tucked into his carry on, which was in the overhead compartment.   “Pretty sure I’ve got that covered.”  He had been so distracted, he never gave her the bracelet he had picked up for her.  He would remedy that when they landed in Hawaii.

She lifted her head, looked at him questioningly, “what are you talking about?”

“You’ll see.” 

QQQQQQ

Their short layover in Hawaii turned into an overnight stay. Mechanical trouble with the plane had them finding a hotel and a car to get them there.  Luckily, the Wailea Beach Resort had a room for them. 

Dropping their bags in their room, Stephanie crossed to the sliding doors and stepped out onto the oversized lanai.  The tropical breeze blew the stale airplane off her skin and out of her hair. 

Richie stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.  “Looks like we get at least one more night in paradise.”

She rested her hands on his, “as much as I want to get home to see Lily, I’m not sorry we’re here.”  She turned in his arms so she was facing him and looped her arms around his shoulders, “I love you.”  She kissed him lightly.

He walked them to the nearest chaise and settled them down on it, her in his lap.  He dug into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small bag.  “I believe this should cover what I owe you.”

Her brow furrowed and then eased as she laughed, remembering their conversation on the plane.  “Seriously?  You haven’t been out of my sight.  When did you have time to…” she trailed off when she noticed the name of the store on the bag.   “While we were still in Bora Bora.”

He nodded, and he had the grace to blush slightly, “I forgot to give it to you.”

She kissed his cheek, “thank you.”  The bag crinkled as she reached inside and drew out a dark, cloth, drawstring bag.  She loosened the drawstring and pulled out the bracelet.  “Oh, it’s beautiful.”  She held it up, the diamonds glistened in the afternoon sun and the pearls looked almost the blue-green color of the ocean.  She slid it on, it wrapped around and hugged her slim wrist.  She found his lips with hers, “thank you.”

They sat in the waning daylight, kissing and cooing like teenagers, reconnecting, reclaiming a little bit of the intimacy of the first few days of their honeymoon.  The buzz of Richie’s phone intruded into their little cocoon.

She listened to Richie talk to whomever, never lifting her head from his chest, until he ended the call and lifted his hip to tuck his phone away again.  “Who was that?”

“Alice is in playing tonight and wanted to know if I was in town if I wanted to come out and see him.”

“Alice?”

“Cooper, Sweetheart.  Alice Cooper.”