Sunday Mornings

Richie

1985

Two Hours Out From Los Angeles

Richie was tired. Bone tired. He waited at the truck-stop with David and his other bandmates while Simon, his manager, paid for the tank of fuel.

"What time is it?" David asked as he sat heavily on the edge of the garden bed.

Richie checked his watch, "Too late to call Amber. I'll call Jonny when we get to the hotel. He can pass on a message if you want?" He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply to try and keep himself awake.

"Nah, thanks though," he sighed wearily, "Amber likes to hear my voice. How many more weeks are we doing this?"

David had flown out to help out with the last few weeks when Paul, his hired keyboardist, had to fly home for a family emergency. Michael, the bassist, and Tovan, his drummer, were both single guys with the love-them-and-leave-them attitude when it came to girls so the touring lifestyle suited them to a tee.

"Er...two, I think," he shrugged, "Man, I'm fried. Don't ask me to think, when all I want to do is fall face first into bed. Preferably my own."

It had been a slow-burn rise for Richie to reach some small level of recognition around the country after he recorded his first album. He'd worked the bar and toiled endlessly over the songs for the album, all with Jon's unwavering support and help with some songs.  They'd written some amazing songs together and Jon was giving writing credits.

Now he'd been on the road for six months and it was wearing thin. He couldn't wait to get home and into Jon's arms. He was starting to wonder if he had what was needed to be on the road and chase down success. He assumed it would also come down to whether HeyMan! wanted to keep him on. Simon seemed pretty confident that things were travelling in the right direction.

"Let's go!" Simon called as he came out of the store, "Sooner we're on the road the sooner we can get some proper sleep."

Richie threw the last of his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out as David stood and stretched with a groan, "But I don't wanna...," he complained, dragging his feet, "I don't wanna sit in that seat for another two hours."

Richie pushed him toward the bus and up the steps, "Stop your whining. You sound like your son, ya big baby. Get on the bus and I'll let you have the room while you call Amber."

"Really?! Half an hour or it's no deal," he said, grabbing onto the handrails effectively stopping them both from completely entering the dark cavern of the tour bus.

"Hurry up you two," Simon groused from the top of the bus steps.

"Half an hour!? You'll only need five minutes, Lema!" Richie chuckled, "If that! Okay...okay...half an hour. Fuck! You better not leave any DNA on my bed!" He gave David one last shove and the driver closed the door behind them and headed toward their hotel for the next few days.

They pulled into the parking lot of the hotel a couple of hours later and keys were handed out after Simon had checked everyone in and the bus was locked tight. Richie and David together, Michael and Tovan, Simon and the driver. They all separated and fell inside their relevant doors.

"Do not even think of bed," David said, pushing Richie toward the door again after he'd dropped his bag on a bed, "I get half an hour...remember?"

"Fuck!" Richie groaned, "Then give me all your change if you want me to use the payphone." He held his hand out in a 'gimme' motion.

"Er...I don't know how much I have," he said, digging through his pockets, "but it's all yours. Say hi to Jonny for me."

"Yeah, yeah...," Richie grumbled but took a handful of coins from him anyway, "Remember...clean bed and no longer than half an hour." With that admonishment given he grabbed his room key and went in search of a payphone.