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| Kevin spent most of the flight home staring out the window and drinking bottle after bottle of water. Sunday night's tequila binge had left him with cottonmouth and a head full of fuzzy memories. But one memory was perfectly clear in his mind...he'd given Richie Sambora his cell phone number in response to an invitation to a party. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He reached in his jacket & switched on his cell phone...no messages. "Geeze Richardson" he thought, "get a damn grip. He's probably not even awake yet. HE had the good sense not to book the red-eye back to LA!" By the time he got home, he was tired & ill tempered. He steeled himself in preparation for facing his wife. She seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to his dalliances...she could spot his interest in someone a mile away. More than once he had looked in the mirror trying to figure out where "just got laid" showed up on his forehead. He figured there had to be a neon sign. She always knew. "I'm home..." No answer... He wandered through the house looking for signs of life. A note with his name on it lay on the kitchen counter. Kevin~ I had to leave early for Miami... my shooting schedule was moved up a week. I'll be in touch. Kris Kevin breathed a sigh of relief as the realization slowly hit him...she wouldn't be there for the party. And he wouldn't mention it either. It was just the kind of function she liked to attend. Kevin knew Richie was married (ouch) to Heather Locklear. Considering the series' she had been involved with, there would probably be quite a few industry insiders and celebrities in attendance. Kristin would be livid if she found out she'd missed such a golden opportunity. But that was a risk he was willing to take in order to get to know Richie. He fell into a hot shower then a soft bed...stopping long enough to grab his cell phone. He turned it on and set it on the bedside table. He didn't want to miss that call. Through out the week, Kevin went about his usual routine...going to the gym, meetings, dinner out with friends...and his phone was always close by. By Thursday, his hopes had begun to fade. The party was this weekend and still there had been no phone call. He pushed himself harder than usual that morning...his frustrations were getting the best of him. He attacked the heavy bag and his self-esteem. "Fucking idiot" his fist slammed the bag. "Why WOULD he call?" His hand connected hard again. "He was DRUNK!" Each punch brought a grunt as he hit harder and harder. The idea of a straight, married, rocker hitting on him at a party was ridiculous. He gave the bag one last jab, then caught it as it swung back. The force of it nearly knocked him off his feet. Kevin stood there, forehead against the bag, chest heaving...sweat running down the muscular curve of his back and arms. "Fuck," was barely a whisper. Suddenly he spun on his heel, grabbed his bag from beside the ring and all but ran out of the gym, ripping the tape from his hands as he went. He jumped in the car, put the top down and drove way too fast to his home in the West Hollywood Hills. Dropping his bag in the foyer, he went straight to the shower. He never heard his phone ringing... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Phone in hand, Richie dug through the mess of bills and receipts on his dresser looking for the napkin with Kevin's number on it. "Ah-HAH!" Taking a deep breath, he dialed quickly...then... just as quickly hung up...not allowing the call to go through. "Jesus...why you so nervous Sambora? You're just inviting some guy to a party..." Some guy with eyes that keep haunting me... "I�m fucking NUTS!!" He dialed the number again, this time letting it connect. He felt a twinge of disappointment...and relief...when he heard Kevin's smooth, southern drawl as his voicemail kicked in. Stumbling over his words, he finally managed to spit out his message. "You'd think I was asking out a woman," he mumbled, jumping when he heard his wife behind him. "Who was that, honey?" "I....uh...I was just inviting a friend to the party." "Oookay...who??" "A guy I met at the Super Bowl after party." " But WHO, Richie," she laughed while asking. "Kevin Richardson" "A Backstreet Boy?!" Her eyes widening as she envisioned Tico and a member of a boyband in the same room. "You know who he is," Richie seemed genuinely surprised. What the hell was his rock �n roll wife doing listening to Backstreet? "Well YEAH," she laughed. "Have you SEEN the man?" "Uh...yes, dear...I have. I invited him, remember? He's pretty cool...none of that Justin Timberlake bullshit...just a regular guy." Yeah...a regular guy...just keep tellin� yourself that Sambora...you might eventually believe it ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kevin stood in his kitchen, naked as the day he was born and grinning like an idiot. "Hey Kevin...this...ummmmm...this is Richie. Richie Sambora...remember? Listen man, I...uh...shit...I'm calling about the party...Saturday...around 8...aahh....gimme a call back and I'll give you directions..my number is..." Kevin dressed quickly, grabbed his phone and a beer, then walked out on to the deck. He dialed Richie's number and felt his pulse quicken when he heard "Sambora". The two men exchanged pleasantries and Kevin got directions to their house in Laguna Beach. As the conversation ended both men stood staring at their respective phones.... "What the hell just happened," was all either of them could say. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kevin was pacing back & forth in his massive walk-in closet. He wore only a pair of button-fly jeans that weren't even completely buttoned, and his hair was still wet from the shower. He pulled out a short sleeved khaki shirt..."Shit...Rolling Stone, TV ..." A deep garnet shirt..."Fear Factor....." Dark blue denim with eagles embroidered on it... " I have GOT to go shopping", he muttered. He finally settled on a moss green sueded silk shirt with a black tank underneath. He slipped his feet into sandals and combed his long, dark hair into a ponytail. He stepped in front of the full-length mirror in the closet and regarded himself with a critical eye. "Damn...it ain't the freaking prom" he said with a smile, laughing at his own nervous excitement. But as he pulled up the drive to Richie's home high above the Pacific Ocean, he felt every bit the teenager. He knew the house would be filled with musicians and music industry professionals, television stars, directors and producers. The potential existed for great business connections to be made. But, to Kevin, there was only one connection he was really interested in....and that one was very, VERY personal. BACK HOME NEXT |
| CHAPTER 3 |