What Happens in Vancouver...

Chapter 9: You Give Love a Bad Name

An angel's smile is what you sell
You promise me heaven, then put me through hell
Chains of love got a hold on me
When passion's a prison, you can't break free

"Please, y/n... Come with us."

You were at your dining-room table, eating with your parents. It had been two days that Richie came back from Vancouver; two days that he was bashing the three of you with 'how wonderful it was', that 'we really should go back there', 'I hope we will record in Canada again' and plenty of other things, notably, about Canadian women – but this treatment was only for you.

When he came back you had risked asking him what had the others said to your precipitated departure. He had blinked: "Oh, hum, nothing... Well I supposed it's because it was enough for you and you wanted to see mom and da- Hey y/n where are you going-"

They had stayed five days more than you; five days that Richie, of course, didn't fail to describe you in every damn detail. The best he had found to make you a review of those days was in your room on your bed, with recordings of every song they made in the background. You couldn't decide what was the worst; trying hard to keep a normal expression, hearing Jon's voice, the love songs' lyrics piercing your heart, the good memories they spent without you or Richie's several 'Jon was a bit weird sometimes I must say, like sad. Meh, I guess he too suffered from the girls out there!'

Since the morning, he had replaced his rambling about British-Columbia by the next programmed event; the photoshoot for the album. The least you could say is that Doc hadn't lost time; it had to take place tomorrow, near a made-up beach. Richie didn't know what the manager had at the back of his mind, and that excited him even more.

"Richie honey, your meat is going to be cold soon."

Your mom had spoken in a soft voice, but something told you, even with all the pride she could feel for his son, that she was starting to get annoyed.

Richie moved back his gaze on his plate and pushed a fork full of food in his mouth, what gave you approximatively one minute of peaceful silence before he put his hand on your shoulder: "Please y/n, come! I'm sure we'll all have fun, and the guys would be pleased to see you again. I know David and Jon miss you..."

You coughed, blaming it on a grain of pepper.

Jon? Missing you?

Funny.

But right now, you just wanted to not hear him anymore, and made a vague movement of the hand, which apparently meant yes for him as he smiled widely, promising you a lot of fun.

And that's how you ended up with Richie in the train the afternoon after, direction Slippery When Wet's photoshoot.

Your stomach was weighing tons, feeling like you were heading to a speaking exam.

You don't know if the road had been really quick or if time had lost its track, but in the battling of the eye, you were following Richie to the place of rendezvous.

The sun was still high in the blue sky, promising another very hot afternoon.

"Wow. That's hot."

But it wasn't to the weather Richie was referring to right now; and you let your jaw drop in front of what you were seeing – not that it was very surprising.

You could recognize Doc's small frame even if he was back at you, in a very deep conversation with a woman; she had long, black hair who highlighted the printings of the writings of the yellow t-shirt she was putting on right now on her bikini; t-shirt that was ripped here and there, showing more skin than hiding it.