❦♰❀ reddie smut ☿✿☆

70. the beginning of the end

by: rauqthetommo
❁❀✿❁❀✿❁❀✿❁❀✿❁❀✿❁❀✿❁❀✿❁❀✿❁❀✿❁

"That was awful, Rich." Martin sighed.

"I know," Richie leaned his head back against the headrest of the limo seat.

"What happened? What was that phone call?"

Richie just shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes and rubbing.

After he had forgotten the first joke in his act, the rest of the show bombed. He kept stuttering and stumbling his words, and he couldn't remember any of his punch lines. He was lucky they didn't boo him off the stage.

"Let's just get you home, Rich." Martin said, nodding to the limo driver.

"I'm sorry," Richie sighed, sitting up in the seat. Martin was frowning at him. "It's just been a rough week, I think. The tour is taking a lot out of me."

Martin nodded and patted Richie's knee sympathetically. "At least you're back in town for tonight."

"Yeah," Richie mumbled, staring out the window at the houses rolling by.

He thought back to the phone call, the one just before his show. Mike had had to introduce himself twice. The first time "Mike Hanlon" hadn't meant anything to him, but the second time the switch flipped and the floodgates opened. He almost hadn't made it outside, he'd thrown up so fast. More memories came back, too. Ones of soft hair, pale skin, the steady clicking of an aspirator. "I need you to find someone," Richie said, suddenly.

"Uhm," Martin blinked. "Ok. Who?"

"His name is Edward Kaspbrak. Eddie."

Martin pulled his phone out of his pocket to make a note. "Kaspbrak." He repeated. "How do you spell that?"

"K-A-S-P-B-R-A-K."

Martin nodded along with each letter. "What else?"

"He'd be my age. He's actually six months and four days younger than me."

Martin raised his eyebrows at that, but didn't say anything. He let all of the air in his lungs out of his mouth. "Anything else?"

Richie shrugged and shook his head. "No, nothing I can think of."

The limo pulled up to the curb outside of Richie's condo. "I'll do the best I can," Martin said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"Thank you," Richie pushed himself out of the limo, climbing his front porch steps.

"Try and get some rest, Rich." Martin gently squeezed his upper arm before turning around and jogging back down the stairs towards the limo. "And maybe run some cold water on your face," He advised, standing in the open car door, hand resting on top of the limo. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

                                                                           ***

The following morning, Richie sat at his dining room table, reading the paper and sipping his coffee. A plate of nearly untouched scrambled eggs and bacon sat in front of him. An incoming call displayed the name "Martin Gene" on his phone. "Hey," Richie answered.

"I found him," Martin said, not bothering with pleasantries.

"You did?" Richie set down his coffee and paper and sat forward, his hummingbird heart beating out of his chest.

"Edward Kaspbrak. He's 40 years old and lives in Manhattan."

"What does he do?"

"He's a risk analyst."