Father Time - a Richie Sambora Fanfic.

FATHER TIME It must look to Helen as though I'm as cool as a cucumber, standing waiting behind a barrier for a world famous rock star to come out. I'm cooler than I look, inside my stomach is whirling and my heart is beating so fast that I feel as though it'll burst out of me. Helen leans against me. "You really met him? It was a long time ago, do you think he'll remember you?" I snort scornfully. "Of course not, didn't you listen? He's been with hundreds of women, he's dated stars and beauty queens and models, he's not going to remember meeting me all that time ago. Helen, stop leaning on me, I'm not a lamp post." She looks offended and stands up. "All right, all right...keep your hair on! I only asked! I was too young to go to concerts then, remember? Mum wasn't keen on you going either..." I remember the argument when Mum found out I was going to a rock concert on my own. I was twenty-three at the time, but still living at home made Mum think I was still thirteen, the same age as my younger sister Helen. Even at that age, Helen was the beauty, long silky blonde hair, huge blue eyes and slim figure. I was darker, non-descript, the only thing I had that Helen hadn't was a perfect hourglass figure. At least, that was how I described it to myself. Helen put it more simply. "Mum, why has she got big boobs and I haven't? All the boys chase me but they stare at her..." Mum made her usual soothing noises, but the argument went on about me going alone until the night of the concert itself. Dressed in what I considered appropriate rock music clothes, I sauntered casually out of the front door, called goodbye, and ran for the bus. My new jeans were so tight that I was uncomfortable sitting down, the matching denim jacket also was stiff with newness. I wondered vaguely why I'd worn this T-shirt, it was lower cut at the front than any I normally wore to go out, and tighter too. But I'd grasped the nettle with both hands and headed straight for the venue. They were virtually unknown in 1984, a support band. Funny how I can't remember who they were supporting, the events of that night wiped everything else out. The music was wonderful, the gig great, but the only memorable thing to me was the man behind the lead guitar. The man I was waiting to see now. Helen nudges me. "You never said what really happened, you lost your jacket and your purse, but you never said why you were so late. I know you told Mum it was because you walked home...was that all? I always thought there was a boy involved." I stare at her for a moment and she beams that beautiful even smile. "I am twenty now, I know about boys...cough it up." I shake my head. "There was someone, not a boy. A man. My secret, Helen. Shut up, he'll be here soon..." She pesters and questions me, but I'm back in the past again. Somehow taking off my jacket, my purse in the pocket, hadn't seemed silly at the time. I was so hot from yelling and jumping and dancing to the music, and I'd have sworn the guitarist kept looking at me and smiling. Fantasy, of course, no-one ever looked at me. Except the shadowy figure who ran past outside the hall, snatched my new jacket containing my purse and ran. I held on for dear life, but in spite of screaming for help, I was knocked to the ground and my new jacket and all my money disappeared down the road into the night. I sat sobbing on the pavement, until running feet approached and I wailed again, thinking someone else was after me. Not so. Two men lifted me to my feet and a deep American voice asked if I was all right. I sobbed like a baby. "No! He took my new jacket, I've got no money now and I'll have to walk home! Oh God, why did I ever come to this stupid concert by myself?" The voice contained laughter. "Well, I'm sorry you thought it was stupid! It went pretty good, I thought...I saw you in the audience, you seemed to be having a good time..." I'd looked up, and up, in my flat trainers I was quite small, and the man beside me was very tall. His eyes were brown, his hair was long, his arms strong and I almost wailed again. "Oh God, you're him! Oh God, this is worse than ever, go away! Leave me alone...Oh God!" He seemed to wave the other man away slightly. "God doesn't seem to be around right now so far as you're concerned, and I'm not going away until I'm sure you're OK. That son of a bitch who took your jacket and your money was real quick, but then he knows the area and I don't, otherwise we'd have been right after him. Come get a drink, calm down a little...come on, you're quite safe, there are other girls around, other people. Come on...what's your name?" Gently, he'd led me back into the building, fetched me a drink of cola, even got cold water on some tissues to wipe the graze on my elbow. I'd said nothing, I was mesmerised by his smile, his twinkling eyes. He'd laughed when I told him my name. "Fizz? That's a name I never heard before..." I'd explained it was a nickname and he'd smiled again. Other people had come over, he'd explained what had happened, and they'd all been so nice, caring and friendly. Concerned, the handsome blonde lead singer asked how I'd get home and seemed bothered when I said I'd have to walk back by myself. I remember how dazed I'd felt, how I'd followed like a lamb when Richie drew me aside and asked if I'd feel better away from the crush and the people. We'd gone out into the dark, up steps onto a large coach and he'd led me by the hand back to a sleeping area. To say I was nervous was an understatement, I was terrified. Not of him, because he was so gentle and caring. I was simply terrified of what might happen next. What did happen wasn't planned, and when I held him off and told him in a wobbly, tearful voice, he'd smiled and nodded as if he understood. "I had a feeling...you're unusual. Not too many girls around like you..how old are you?" I'd muttered. "Twenty-three." I'd blushed beetroot red, and he'd stroked back my hair, his face kind and somehow respectful. We'd talked for a long time lying on his bunk, me held in his strong arms against that broad chest I'd watched longingly from the audience, and only when he sat up and indicated he'd see about getting me home safely did I give in to the small voice egging me on inside my head. He'd looked startled, unsure of himself, asked if I was serious, if I meant what I was saying. He'd said other things, told me what to expect, it seemed as though he was trying to put me off, but I'd asked again, ignoring my mother's voice in my head telling me not to be cheap and easy. When he took me in his arms again, it had felt right and I wasn't afraid any more. The stage door opens and to screams and cheers from the many people standing around, Richie comes out. As tall as I remembered, broader now, a real man where he was still a youth back in 1984. His hair still long but better styled now, his eyes that twinkling brown and the curved mouth I remember so well. Helen shrieks and jumps, drawing attention to herself. Richie moves down the line, signing autographs, smiling, chatting. I knew he'd notice Helen, you could hardly not notice her with her beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair and the skintight jeans on, the tight top. I stand back, also in jeans and a T-shirt, I rarely wear loose ones now, it seems absurd to hide my only physical assets. Then he's there, right in front of us, and Helen squeaks about loving his music, thrusts an autograph book under his nose and he signs with a flourish. Then he looks up at me. Do I see faint recognition in his eyes? No, of course not, I'm dreaming. He takes the CD I hold out. "You're the first one with my own album here today, shall I put your name on it?" Helen squeaks again, shaking her blonde hair to get attention as she always does. "She's my older sister...put to Fizz. That's what everyone calls her..." She carries on babbling but Richie's eyes are now fixed on me, and Helen's voice and looks are ignored. "Fizz? I only ever knew one girl called Fizz...on our first tour around 1984?" I smile back at him. "That's me. You look fantastic, Richie, I'm proud to have been at that gig. Father Time's been good to you, hasn't he?" He hands me back the CD and our fingers meet, mine shaking a little. His eyes are intent on my face. "Yeah, I guess he has...I see a ring there, you're engaged?" I nod, and wonder if it really is a trace of regret on his face. His words confirm that it is. "Pity...we could've had a drink maybe, talked about old times. Do you live in London?" Helen is quiet now, awestruck, staring at each of us in turn as we talk. "No, I’m still in Leicester. I came down today to see if I could see you, get this signed. A memento." Richie waves to a PR girl, who rushes over, he mutters to her and then takes the object she holds out and places it in my hands. "Here...this is a copy of the special collector’s pack. There's the CD but there's also a bunch of other stuff in it. I'll sign this also..." He hands me the black card folder and unexpectedly, leans over to brush my lips with his. Screams follow, he turns and grins. Helen is speechless, I'm unable to look away. "When I tour this album in the fall, I'll be over here..daresay I may not make it to Leicester this time, but you make sure you come see me, you hear? Get a note in at the stage door or something...let me know you're at the gig..." I smile into the warm brown eyes. "Shall I bring my fiancé or my sister?" He doesn't spare Helen a glance. "Up to you...but I'd prefer a private talk...you take care now, Fizz." I watch him go. "And you...good luck, Richie. Good luck with the album." He smiles and waves before the limousine sweeps him away. No tour buses these days. Helen snatches the black card folder from me, and reads the words out loud. "To Fizz, with love and happy memories of '84. A gift in exchange for a gift, only your gift to me was far more precious and special. Richie Sambora." Helen stares at me as I calmly take the folder back and tuck it carefully in my bag. "A gift? Did you give him something when you saw them play in 1984? Oh I wish I'd been old enough to go, he's so gorgeous! You didn't say you'd really met him properly...you didn't say...and he kissed you! A gift in exchange for a gift....yours was more precious and special...oh, what did you give him? You never told me or Mum you gave him a present! What did you give him? A precious special gift...what was it?" I look at Helen, for the first time in my life I don't feel envious of her and her looks at all. Richie had ignored Helen's beauty to speak to me, had remembered that night even as I did. Helen pinches my arm. "What? What special precious thing did you give him? Was it your new jacket you said had been stolen? Tell me...tell me...what was this special precious gift, because he obviously remembers you giving it to him really well? OH, Fizz, tell me what you gave him..." I look in the direction the speeding limousine took, and I smile as I reply. "My virginity."