Chapter 34

 Richie was a molten mess of a man, closing his eyes as the ambulance raced along the road, its' sirens blaring. The paramedics were constantly checking his statistics: blood pressure, oxygen levels and heartbeat. He felt like a shell of a man, dead inside, even Jon had to be scrambled from his home in New Jersey to help out Evie. His eyes closed once again, his ears filled with the bleeping noise and rattle of the heart monitor and the thumping, throbbing pain in his head, like he was going to be sick. His arms and body limp as his head went into a deep state of thought.

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Evie stressed and sighed; Jon was impatient now, and raced through the busy road, jam-packed with lovesick holiday makers, trying to get to their hotels and various other locations. Evie had a thousand incarnations as she pondered twizzling the engagement ring on her finger. Jon looked at her, sweat evident on his brow. Finally, Jon reached the hospital; he slammed the door shut and dragged Evie behind him, he was worried about his best friend.

Richie breathed slowly and deeply as the dirty-blonde haired, Spanish consultant took yet another sample of blood. As if he was in a parallel universe, the world seemed slow and surreal somehow. Perhaps it was the pain relief drugs? If anything would keep him here, it would be Evie. He heard running, and laboured breathing, coming from down the hall, and it was getting closer.

Jon breathed heavily, and opened the door, exhausted after climbing way-too-many stairs; he looked directly at Richie, who, unknown to him, had his fiancé coming in to see him. "Richie? Is that you?" Evie asked, looking at the IV in his arm, and various other tubes, wires and cables in him. Evie wanted to cry. To weep and bury her head in Richie's chest, only he was the cause of sadness. Remarkably, Richie looked somewhat better than

what he did the previous day. His face was a little less pale, but, he was still very sick. Evie stepped forward, Richie smiled weakly her gaze was sometimes on his face, the other, on him.  Jon pulled up a chair next to the bed, patting on it to indicate that he wanted Evie to sit down. Nervously, she sat down hastily, taking Richie’s hand and stroking it gently.  His heartbeat sped up, to a normal rhythm and pulse, she smiled then. Though, a collection of doctors, a nurse and other various medical staff, stood at the foot of the bed, the lead doctor with a clipboard and a look of dismay on his face.

He shook his head and handed the clipboard to Richie. Diaphoresis. Richie looked shocked, the doctor started to speak: “It’s excessive sweating with a large decrease in weight”. Evie nodded. The pieces of the puzzle fitted together now, Richie’s loss in weight after the tour, his constant night sweats.  Jon pulled up a chair and sat by Evie as the medical crowd dispersed to take care of their various patients.  The dirty-blonde consultant still stood there.

“There are treatments” he replied, turning over a page and looking up. “Drugs, surgery or electrical impulses through the skin? Your choice, Richard”. Richie whimpered at the term ‘electrical impulses’. “Drugs” Richie replied hastily, his voice quiet and shrill, full of worry and fear. Evie held his hand tightly; Jon’s piercing blue eyes looked at Evie’s. Of course, since the drugs were prescription, the doctor with a Spanish accent, signed the paperwork to allow Richie the drugs.

When, he did come back, Jon and Evie were stood up, Jon’s hands stuffed in his pockets and he gave Evei the papers, and told her to pick them up from the pharmacy downstairs.

Evie nudged Richie; he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He put on his normal clothes, and they all shuffled down the stairs, Jon lead, then Richie and Evie last. Once they reached the pharmacy, Jon handed in Rich’s prescription, the chemist told them to have it: after every meal, one tablet three times a day and seven days a week.

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Richie looked at the pill, it was strange, he twizzled it around on his calloused fingers. “Go on, have it, if you want your health to improve” Evie told him, filling up his glass with water. Richie sighed and placed the pill at the back of his mouth, taking a massive gulp of water and washed it down. He licked his lips. 

Chapter 33

Richie had become like a sick dog, helpless and needed medical attention.
Evie sighed and picked up the phone, she dialed the hospital. "His name is Richard Stephen Sambora, his age is twenty eight" she told them, her fingers tapping as Richie lay still under the covers, other than the occasional grumble. To go on with the treatment and have to go to America, or stay here and have the wedding with Richie as sick as a dog. A tough decision. She then decided to call Jon. "Hello" said a deep, shrill voice. "Sorry to wake you up so early but it's Richie". "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice raw and full of worry. "I'll come right now, you obviously need my help". She put down the phone and paced the room. Richie started to stir and grumble; she sat by him on a chair, holding his hands.

"Evie" he managed to whisper to her. "Richie, go to sleep, Jon's coming right now in the plane. Don't worry, I've already phoned the hospital" she replied, giving him a sip of water to satisfy his thirst. He lay back down, his skin was wet and clammy and he had a temperature. Evie stood up and pushed some of his hair out of his face. "Sleep tight my King, Jon will be there when you wake up, we'll decide what to do with you then" she told him, opening the door and switched off the light. Richie groaned, rolled over and slept, he slept for all he was worth.


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Jon sat on his private plane, reading Rolling Stone magazine. He looked at his watch; his plane was landing in five minutes. Gran Canaria was beautiful, though he was only going to help his brother from another mother out. The plane landed with a thud, it taxied to the terminal, Jon rushed down the steps and rushed through security, passport control and baggage claim to his truck and sped off towards Richies' villa. Jon jumped out of his truck, and ran towards the front door, knocking frantically on the heavy, dark oak door. Evie opened the door. "He's upstairs, door on the right, come in" Evie told him as he strolled in, running upstairs with Evie behind him. Jon opened the door gently, his face drained, Richie looked like death itself.  Evie came up behind him.  "He was like this last night, I phoned up the local ER, I don't know whether to send him to the hospital in America or here" Jon turned around and looked at Rich. "Here" he replied, sighing. "I think we should call an ambulance, don't you think?"

"Yes, we shall, you keep him company and gather up his things and I'll dial the ambulance". Evie went over to his wardrobe and bundled some clothes together in a small sports bag. Jon told the Spanish-speaking operator Richies' name, age, height, nationality, weight, parents and other necessary details including his symptoms. Now it was evident they were sending paramedics. It was time for Richie to re-gain consciousness, Evie sat by him. She heard sirens outside, they blared, waking him up.  Richie groaned and grumbled as the paramedics banged on the door, Evie let them through. Jon managed to pick up Richie and carried him down to the living room. Richie lay limp in Jon's arms, his arms were limp and his eyes rolled back, his skin was no longer tanned, it was white, pasty and pale, his eyes rolled back.

Jon held Richie close to his chest and laid him down on the paramedics stretcher, Evie ran next to him, crying. They put an oxygen mask onto his face and put a heart monitor onto his index finger, his right index finger. Evie ran to go to Richie, who was now being rushed into the ambulance. She felt arms grab her, and pull her back. It was Jon. "No! I have to go with him" she yelled, trying to fight against him, kicking and screaming. "Shhh, it's alright. Richie's in the best possible hands, we can go to the hospital in the car" Jon replied, Evies' face was clammy and bright red, tired, she leant against him for support. He groaned and grumbled. Her legs felt weak, he head pounding as the only thing that was stopping her from falling, was the man by her side. He made his way to the car and helped her get in, made his way to the drivers side, clambered in and sped to the hospital for Rich.

Chapter 32

*A couple of days later*

"Richie, why are we at the airport?" Evie asked, as Richie pulled into the terminal. "We are going on holiday, a very special holiday" Richie replied, smiling and turned off the engine. He opened the door and clambered out, grabbing his suitcases out of the back of the car, Evie got out as well and shaded her eyes from the sun. "Where exactly?" she asked, taking her suitcase into the airport, quickly followed by her soon-to-be husband. "It's a surprise" he replied, strolling up to the check-in desk and the lady scanned the bags. Added a tag and put them on the carrier. Richie smiled as they travelled towards security, past a bunch of bustling tourists and some children.  Richie kissed Evie on the lips as they passed through security- Richie was overjoyed. “Ready to go?” he asked as they went up the steps towards Richies’ private plane, Evie smiled and sat down in a comfortable seat, with a cocktail in her hand, Richie followed and sat down opposite her.

Evie nodded. The engines rumbled, the planed rolled forward and began to taxi to the runway. Evie fastened her seat belt, the plane stopped. The engines roared as she blew out a deep breath, Richie held her hand tightly as a sign of comfort and she began to relax. The speed grew faster and faster, the plane then soared into the sky, Richie took off his seat belt and took a white wine from the bar. Richie sipped slowly; Evie was captivated in an action novel, her eyes scanned the page eagerly. Richie sighed; he grabbed his notebook, and decided to write down some lyrics after his newly-found inspiration. As time wore on, hour by hour, Richie grew more and more tired. Finally, he lugged himself to a bed at the back of the plane, he snuggled himself under the covers, Evie was wide awake and was enjoying having some coffee, cake and a book.

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By early morning, after ten or so hours on the plane, the plane was coming in for landing. Richie was awake and fastened in, Evie was asleep.  He nudged her slightly; enough to stifle her senses and make her open her eyes.

“Morning beautiful” Richie told her, she groaned and stretched, popping her back. Richie winced at the sound. “Top of the morning to ya” she told him, letting go a bit of her British ancestry, he nodded and smiled gently. He told her that they were landing in a few minutes, she done up her belt and looked out of the window. “Welcome to Gran Canaria, my darlin’” he replied, suddenly, he felt the back wheels touch the ground with a thud, then, the front. The plane slowly rolled around the bottom corner and taxied to the private gate, it stopped.

Richie grabbed his belongings from the overhead cabinet, Evie did also, he took her hand and they both walked down the steps to the airport. Once they were inside the airport, Richie wrapped Evie in a tight hug, and quickly gave her a passionate kiss. She chuckled, strolling down towards passport control, Richie by her side. Finally, after avoiding paparazzi, probably because they hadn't told anyone, the airport was quiet. Richie liked it better that way, less autographs to sign and much less hassle. Richie gave in his passport, the worker checked; peering to make sure that is was a genuine document. He nodded and gave it back, Evie gave hers in, and once again, he peered at everything.

With the passports done, they moved to get the luggage, because Richie had a private plane, his luggage was waiting for him at the departure part of the airport.

Richie chucked his, and Evies' suitcases into the boot of his car. Once done, he sat next to Evie in the back seat. The chauffeur started to drive to the hotel; Evie gazed out of the window, all of the sights and smells. Richie smiled. The drive to the villa was short and sweet. When, the car reached the villa, Richie plopped on his baseball cap and gave the chauffeur a sincere thank you. They were given their suitcases, guitars and assortment of hats and strolled to the front door; it was painted a dark oak with a glossed finish. Richie opened the front door, Evie gazed at the amount that was in here: a kitchen with cutlery, cupboards, a marble worktop, a lounge with sofas, a state of the art television, (colour nevertheless) and a range of guitars were in the corner, from Kramers to Ovations. Richie carried the bags up to the bedroom, it was a creamy white with a King sized bed tucked neatly in the middle; a bay window sat looking the ocean and beach, and a wardrobe. Richie chucked them down on the floor and crashed on the bed, and most probably, passed out.

Evie, too busy looking at the grounds, kitchen and music room, never noticed Richie going to bed. She ran upstairs, and opened the bedroom door, revealing a unconscious Richie with all of his clothes on. Evie sighed; she took off Richie's hat and shoes, putting his baseball cap on the side table. "Sweet dreams Richie" she told him before kissing him on the forehead, and strolling to the door; she quietly shut it, careful not to awaken him, and made her way downstairs.

The room was a deadly silence, she gazed at the guitars, one was a cherry red Kramer, and another was a deep shade of blue, not navy. She noticed a piano in the corner; she stepped over there and sat down. She started to play She Is Always a Woman to Me by Billy Joel. She sung with grace and such emotion:

She can kill with a smile; she can wound with her eyes

She can ruin your faith with her casual lies

And she only reveals what she wants you to see

She hides like a child, but she's always a woman to me

Richie heard sweet piano music coming from downstairs, Billy Joel, if he was correct. He stood up, waited to get his balance and rushed downstairs. Evie was singing sweetly, with pure grace and emotion in her voice, she didn't notice Richie; he sat down and watched her play. She finished, Richie sat in awe of her. "Can I join?" Richie asked, grabbing an old Ovation off the wall. "Richie? I thought you were sleeping". "I was, until I heard this and had to join in". Evie nodded as Richie pulled up a chair alongside the piano, Richie started to tune his guitar, when done, and he started to sing the lyrics as Evie played the piano. Richie joined in with the guitar and it was a luscious duet between the two instruments.

Soon enough, the time flew by and the sunset was appearing on the private beach behind the house.

Richie put his guitar back on the wall and Evie stood up, tucked her chair in and grabbed Richies' hand.

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"I love the sunset" Evie told Richie before she yawned. Richie smiled. "You seem tired, let's go bed. Shall we?" Richie replied, drinking his pint of beer, Evie nodded, he finished his beer. He picked her up, and carried her to the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed. She nuzzled under the covers and drifted into a sound sleep. Richie took of his clothes and hopped in as well, said goodnight and passed out.

1:26 AM.

Richie tossed and turned, groaned and grumbled as the sweat once again washed over him. Another cold sweat. The bed was soaking, Evie woke up, and she mumbled something and looked at Richie, shocked. "You're having cold sweats? Richie, this isn't good" she told him as Evie stood up and dragged him to the shower. Evie switched on the shower, with boiling hot water coming out. Richie stripped down, in front of his fiancé. “Get in” she told him, her voice was soft yet firm, it was clear she was worried about Richie. He stepped in, so did Evie, as she had already stripped down. She washed Richie’s hair for him; he had a ghostly pale face and looked stressed.

 Evie sighed and washed him, her fingertips were soft and relaxing, once done, she done herself.

Evie turned off the shower; they both stepped out and wrapped in fluffy towels, Richie looked extremely sick now, and looked like he was going to throw up. Evie would have to wash the sheets in the morning; Richie was currently her main priority. Evie dried his hair, helped him get into the spare room and laid him down. Evie wrapped him in a couple of blankets, and gave him a couple of sleeping pills to knock him out; he needed a good night’s sleep.