When this album's tour started at last, I traveled all over with my band, starting in early summer. From Stockholm to Vienna or Paris and Milan, crowds raved about everything. Yet, I felt empty after all the house lights turned back on.
3 years. Two band changes. Infinite records. Countless shows. Rochelle secured her place as my trooper.
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Unfortunately, she still couldn't visit us as often, swamped in many places. Now, different artists released their new projects. Whitney. Janet. Motley Crue. Guns N' Roses. My wife's press list grew and that stubborn work ethic left me without her.
Once more, I couldn't help yearning every time Ro interviewed people or printed her name for magazine articles. Even our favorite phone calls shortened, and it was mostly my fault. Tricky show problems as well as other nonsense wedged through.
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We even shaped up one remarkable concert movie on the road, but Ro still wouldn't budge. After "A Beautiful Night" finished playing on stage, I returned to another hotel room and saw my darling on screen.
Ro was back in work mode, focused. This time around, she chatted with Richie Sambora, lead guitarist of Bon Jovi. Sambora almost towered my wife, wearing tight pants and sporting one big-time mullet.
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Meanwhile, Rochelle pushed those curls through one headband. Without using a lot of makeup, strands drooped around her perfect face. I'd fallen in love with her brown eyes, forever captivated. She was so gorgeous, even through harsh lights.
