Ch 67 ~ Three Stories

California made Rachel irritable.  There was just no other way to describe it.  Everyone and everything had annoyed her from the moment she’d set foot

back in California, grumpy as a bear over the Jon/James debacle.

From the moment Jon had quietly hung up on her, frustrated rage had soared through her veins with no available outlet.  Her departing flight had left her little option but to board while she still had the opportunity, with James at her side wanting to know what the matter was.  Even as frustrated as she was, she knew that taking it out on him was not the solution, so she told him nothing and pleaded a headache before pretending to sleep.

In actuality, she silently stewed, boiled and was confused to the point of delirium for the entire length of the five hour flight.  Her arrival in San Francisco had her immediately dialing Jon’s number, but a quick calculation of time zones confirmed that he was in the middle of his show and that made her mood even fouler.

It was nearly seven in the evening in California, which was equivalent to three in the morning in London, by the time she was able to reach him.  Her relief cloaked itself in a barrage of sharp words.

“You couldn’t be bothered to call me back after your show?  You had to wait until the middle of the damn night before you decide to answer the phone, when you know there’s a mess hanging in the air between us?  Asshole!”

His voice was quietly weary, with no interest in returning her verbal assault.  “I wasn’t ready to talk to you yet.”

“Well I was ready to talk!  You have some damn nerve dropping that kind of bomb on me when I’m not in a position to discuss it.”

“Yeah?” he sighed.  “Well maybe you should’ve ‘discussed’ it before you left.  Then the situation wouldn’t have existed.”

Rachel’s skull thunked against her headboard when she looked to the ceiling with exasperation.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I had tea with James, okay?  I wasn't expecting it, and I wasn’t trying to hide it... the timing was just abysmal.”

The silence from the other end of the line was enough to set her on edge.

“He asked you to marry him.”

“No he didn’t!” she cried in vexation.  “We talked about work, he told me that one of the group of investors for a package we've lost a ton of money on had demanded my presence in California and that was it.  Period.”

“That’s not what Richie saw from the bar.”

Richie?   That’s who she had to thank for ten of the most nerve-wracking hours of her life?

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Rachel had immediately wanted to throttle the man for whom she’d previously had nothing more than sympathy and easy camaraderie.

“Well, God knows whatever he saw from the bar must be the gospel,” she drawled sarcastically, unable to believe this entire mess was because of what Richie Sambora had seen in the bottom of his afternoon cocktail.  “Because he’s always sober as a judge with the wisdom of Solomon when he sits at a bar.  Isn’t that right?”

“He saw what he saw.”

“Just for shits and giggles, why don’t you tell me what he saw?  Did he see me arguing with James because I wasn’t ready to leave London?  Did he see me telling James about the fabulous trip to Paris that you’d arranged?  How about when I told James I wanted to work remotely during the month of August so I can come and spend it with you?  Any of that make its way to you?”

“Rachel, I’m tired and I don’t feel like arguing.  Answer me one thing and we can talk about everything else tomorrow.”

That really didn’t work for Rachel.  She wanted the situation ironed out and the air completely clear – now – but maybe they were beyond that tonight.  Maybe they were too tired to think objectively and rationally.

“What?”

“Did you go for work, or to be with James?”

Yeah, she clearly lacked the ability to process anything in an objective manner, because that question made her want to screech at him like a banshee.

"Jon, don't be stupid."

"That's not an answer Rachel."

She inhaled deeply through her nostrils and out through her mouth.  A deep, relaxing breath to prevent her from saying the many, many things swirling around in her mind because they were all things she would regret later.

"And I'm not giving you one, because you're being ridiculous.  I'm wearing your ring.  End of discussion."

Yes, she hung up on him, but Rachel had still been proud of herself.  She did it with dignity, decorum – and without telling him he had shit for brains.

Things had been tense since then.  Yes, they’d spoken daily, but there was an underlying tension that had never been there before.  She hoped that seeing him face-to-face would finally make him understand that nothing had changed, and that they were the same couple they’d been before James showed up in London.

She hoped.

                                                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon folded his arms over his white t-shirt clad chest, feeling the short sleeves grow tight with the bulging of his arms as he leaned his ass against the Chevelle and surveyed the plane taxiing to a stop on the Teterboro airstrip.  Rachel was on that plane and, for the first time ever, he wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her.

Things had been difficult since her unexpected departure from London at the hand of Jackass James.

At first, Jon had been hurt when Richie told him about what he’d witnessed in that tea room.  Then he’d gotten pissed.  After he talked to Rachel and heard James call her ‘sweetheart’, he’d become livid.  When Rachel refused to give him a yes or no answer about whether she’d left for work or that cocksucking bastard, Jon had resigned that he wasn’t going to fight for a woman who didn’t want him.  His male pride wouldn’t allow it.

But she kept calling.  She labeled him a stupid asshole for not listening to his heart instead of his ego.  She told him he was an inconsiderate dick with trust issues and, when he refused to be budged, she told him she absolutely wasn’t going to talk any more about it until they could do it face.

So they played nice for the remainder of the twelve days that brought them to today.  They checked in with one another every day to see how things were going, she inquired about the delivery of the London furnishings for the house, he asked – briefly – about work, and if she was going to be able to get away from the month of August as she’d hoped.

All the while his anger and resentment bubbled just below the surface.  He felt bad about it at first, thinking Rachel was right.  Had his trust issues automatically made him assume she wanted James?  Was his anger at her misplaced?  Should he be angry with himself instead?

Yesterday, he discovered the answer to that question while talking to Richie on the plane trip back to the States. 

“So what’s the deal?  Are you and your girl still on, or what?”

He’d looked up from his newspaper with a frown as the lanky man occupied the seat next to his.  “Yeah.”

“So you got all this shit worked out about whatshisface?  And his askin’ her to marry him?”

Actually, no, they had never resolved that to his satisfaction.  She swore it never happened, but Richie swore just as vehemently that it did.  He’d never had cause to doubt Richie’s word, but maybe Rachel had been right.  Maybe his perception had been clouded by booze.

“Kinda.  We’ll get the rest of it sorted when she gets to Jersey tomorrow.”

One way or the other.

“As long as whatshisface doesn’t come along and lure her away again?”

That simple question had resonated in Jon’s head with the impact of an air raid siren, rattling his subconscious until the real reason for his anger dropped right into the center of his frontal lobe.

What the hell?

He no longer felt guilty about his anger at Rachel.  He had every right to be angry at her because she had a blind, soft spot when it came to James, and she didn’t see that the manipulative bastard was playing her – most likely to get at Jon.

Upon realizing the why, he immediately picked up his phone to dial Rachel.

“Hello?”

“Hey.  I just had a revelation.  I know why I’m pissed at you, and you’re wrong.”

She sighed heavily.  “I thought we decided to wait until tomorrow?”

“I changed my mind.  Rach, you’re being blind – “

“Jon,” she interrupted loudly.  “You may have changed your mind, but I didn’t.  I can’t focus on this now, because I’m trying to wrap up everything so that I can get out of here first thing in the morning.  We’ll talk about it as soon as I get there.”

“But – ”

“Please, Jon.”

He was annoyed, but what difference was one more day going to make?  It had already been eleven, and it wasn’t like he was losing out on any extra sex.

So he waited.

And, ensconced in the humidity that mid-summer New Jersey was known for, he stood in the baking sun and waited a bit longer for the plane’s crew to open the door.  It was at least another three minutes before it cracked and the stairs were flipped out for Rachel to exit the aircraft.

Jon uncrossed his arms and flip-flopped his away across the twenty yards that separated him from the base of those stairs, squinting behind his aviator sunglasses.  He had just reached his destination when Rachel appeared at the top, her lean legs bare in a pair of khaki shorts while her top half was encased in a form-fitting black babydoll t-shirt.  A quick scan found her still wearing his ring – just like he was wearing hers – and her favorite sunglasses hid her eyes, much as his were hidden, but he saw her mouth tighten almost imperceptibly before she smiled down at him.

“Hey,” she greeted him quietly.

She was as beautiful as ever and, no matter whether he was pissed at her or not, she still stirred something deep inside him.   He had missed her – them – and he was tired of this bullshit.

“Hey,” he returned just as quietly, offering a hand to assist her onto the tarmac.  She’d no more put both sandals on the hot surface before he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck to inhale the scent that was purely Rachel.  “It’s good to see ya.”