Chapter 75

Billie was in Richie’s steel and granite kitchen, mixing up a batch of cookie dough, since Tico had practically begged her to make more cookies ‘to help me put up wit’ his shit’ as he put it, with a theatrical nod toward Jon, last time she’d been in the studio. His favorites were her white chocolate and macadamia ones, made from scratch - no pre-packaged mixes for this lady - the way her mother had taught her many years before.

From the direction of the living room, she heard the dull buzz of a cellphone vibrating on the coffee table, and she paused in her stirring, waiting.

“Mine!” Richie yelled from his couch as he grabbed the offending phone, and Billie started back to what she was doing as he answered the call, the display already forewarning him of the caller.

“Hey kid. What’s up?”

“Hey Richie.” Came that voice that was young-Jon, yet not Jon. Richie wasn’t sure if he’d ever get used to that. “Is mom around?”

“Yeah. You want……..”

“No! No, I don’t want to talk to her - wanted to talk to you. Can she hear you?”

“Noooo……….” Richie sat up a little straighter, listening carefully. “Is everything okay?”

“Aw shit - sorry - yeah. Everything’s fine.” A soft chuckle. “Better than fine I guess…..but that’s not why I called. It’s mom’s birthday next week - Friday - and I was thinking of setting up a little surprise party, and since she’s staying there I could use your help.”

“Ahhhh……” Richie said wisely. And pointlessly. “Whaddya need me to do?”

“I was hoping you could handle keeping her busy all that day, then get her to the party around eight o’clock.”

Richie bit back any smartass remarks about how he could keep her busy all day, or how he’d like to keep her busy all day, and thought for a minute.

“Okay. Where do we need to be?”

“I was thinking Cuba Libre, on South Second. I know most of the team will want to be there, and they - okay we - hang out there a lot. Good food, too.”

“Cube Libre.” Richie murmured, thinking. “Don’t think I’ve been there. Guess Teek will be happy you’ve chosen somewhere with Cuban food.” A pause. “I mean, if you were planning to invite the guys?”

Jay blinked in surprise, sitting on the bed of his apartment. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that the members of the band would want to join the celebration. “Uh - sure! I mean, of course, if you think they’d want to come?”

“Kid, at this very moment your mom is baking cookies specially for Tico. At his request.” A smirk, unseen by Jay, but heard in the next words. “Actually, make that demand. His payment for putting up with your…….uh, with Jon.”

“Thanks.” Jay said softly, not having to explain that his gratitude was for Richie carefully sidestepping calling Jon his father. He may not be able to change it, he - and the world - may be aware of it, but he still wasn’t used to it…..and he wasn’t sure he ever would be.

“So next Friday, right?” Richie queried, turning his head as Billie walked into the room carrying a kitchen towel, weighed down with a fresh, hot cookie in the center.

“Yeah. Thanks Richie.”

Billie laid the cookie on Richie’s knee, starting slightly when he caught her hand as she started to walk away. When she looked down at him, though, he just mouthed ‘thank you’ with a grin, and she grinned as she mouthed back ‘you’re welcome’. He kept hold of her fingers, though, pulling gently to make her stay, and she stopped with a slight frown, waiting for him to finish his call so she could find out why.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jay replied, hanging up the phone as Richie did the same before looking up at Billie.

“What?” She asked, confused.

“A little bird just told me that somebody has a birthday next week.” He smirked up at her, finally releasing her hand as he picked up the cookie instead. “Kept that quiet, didn’t ya?”

“Ugh. I assume that would be a little Jay-bird? He’ll be a black-and-blue-Jay when I get my hands on him! I don’t really celebrate my birthday.”

“Why not?”

“Why? Celebrate getting older? Celebrate managing to survi……..” She paused, cutting herself off, but Richie finished it for her.

“Celebrate managing to survive another year?” He completed before continuing quietly. “I’d think that this year of all years you should be celebrating.”

“Maybe.” Billie whispered tonelessly, dropping to sit on the other couch as those simple words reminded her again of what had happened, of how close she’d been to death just a short time before. Reminded her of too much, bringing back the horror and disgust in a shuddering wave that ripped through her, leaving her fighting for breath, taking her from amusement to an anxiety attack in seconds. “I ca…..I can’t breathe…………” She gasped helplessly, no longer even seeing Richie as her eyes blurred in panic.

“Aw fuck.” Richie muttered as he moved toward Billie, not even noticing when the cookie hit the floor. He hated this.

It wasn’t that he blamed Billie for the sudden, though thankfully rare, anxiety attacks. Wasn’t that he thought she was being melodramatic or playing for sympathy. Far from it. He hated seeing a strong woman in such abject panic because of the actions of some pathetic asshole. Hated seeing her lose the control she obviously valued so highly, hated seeing her hurt so badly. Hated seeing her so close to being broken.

Most of all, he hated that he couldn’t do anything to make it stop.

So he did the only thing he could. When the panic and terror hit her, when she was lost in those dark memories, he held her close and kept her safe.

“Billie.” He murmured as he got to her, repeating her name as he gently touched her knee.

Blinded by her fear, Billie bolted backward on the couch, her voice rising in a bubbling scream.

“Noooooo!” She lashed out with both fists and feet, fighting him off as Richie tried to gain control of her.

“Billie, it’s me…..it’s Richie……you’re safe darlin’.” He finally managed to get past the flailing fists, wrapping his arms around her, holding her arms pinned against her body and just doing his best to avoid the knees that she aimed at his groin, catching the blows on his thigh instead. “C’mon cowgirl…………it’s me…….shhhh……..”

As she slowly stopped fighting him, Richie shifted his grip, one arm around her body, the other hand cradling her head, holding her close against his own broad body as she gasped for air, gulping and sobbing, drawing strength from Richie as she fought for control.

“That’s it, Billie……..breathe, darlin’. Take it slow…….you’re okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Richie encouraged her, stroking her hair as tenderly as though she were Ava in the grip of a nightmare, even though his feelings were far from paternal. “I got you baby.”

Blinking rapidly, Billie finally managed to get past the panic, finally saw Richie’s chest in her field of vision, felt the arms around her and knew they were his. He felt it, too, felt her breathing hitch then fall back into a more natural rhythm, and he eased his head back to look down at her.

“Better?”

“Uh huh.” Billie looked up at him, brown eyes meeting brown eyes, seeing his gentle smile, and the words came out of her mouth without conscious thought. “Kiss me, Richie?”