Epilogue

Epilogue

“Ava!!” Dee shouted as she made her way up the stairs, “Ava Elizabeth Sambora if you’ve woken your brother up with that infernal music I swear…” she yelled as she entered the young girls bedroom, “And you can tidy this place up too, it’s a pigsty.” she said as she crossed over to turn the music down.

Ava just made a face at her and turned back to her laptop. Heather and Richie had come to an agreement and Ava lived with her mum during the week and with her dad at weekends, giving her mum some much needed space and giving Ava a sense of stability.

Dee smiled at her step daughter and reached down to plant a kiss on her head.

“Dee you know your room is sound proofed. I could kill someone in here and Stephen wouldn’t wake up.” the young girl retorted, trying to keep the smile from her face.

“Ok smart ass. Your mum called, she’ll be here in about five minutes. Have you got everything packed?” Dee asked, looking at the badly packed suitcase lying open on Ava’s bed.

“Look just go downstairs and wait for her, I’ll pack for you.” she sighed reaching for the case.

Dee deftly emptied and repacked the case before picking it up and taking it downstairs. She reached the top of the one remaining staircase and decided to check in on her son.

She quietly crept into the darkened room and crossed over to the crib. Stephen Simon Sambora was fast asleep, a shock of dark brown hair peeking out from the covers. He was eight months old and growing so fast she didn’t know where the time had gone.

She smiled as she looked at him. She kept wanting to touch him to prove he was real. It was her second wedding anniversary tomorrow and she felt that she was in a dream.

Richie had dragged her off to Vegas the day after she had broken down and cried on him and had married her there and then. It was only the fact that Jon had then given her a job as Richie‘s PA, claiming she was the only one who could do the job that allowed her to stay in the US whilst their wedding paperwork was sorted out. It had come through so fast she knew Jon’d had a hand in it but was never able to prove it.

She quietly shut the door leaving their son asleep and hefted the bag, through the baby gate and down the stairs to find Ava had let her mum in.

She looked at her, fresh in a cream linen suit, and smiled. She and Heather had found a kind of friendship since the wedding and had developed a sort of respect between them.

“Hi Heather, how was the drive?” she asked as she put Ava’s suitcase on the hallway floor.

The marble was still there but had been carpeted over with a thick cream plush than ran up the staircase as well. The infamous staircase had been pulled down after Dee had moved in and the top blocked off. Numerous large rugs covered the cream carpet, making it even more cosy.

“Hellish, you know LA in the afternoon.” Heather smiled.

“You got time for a drink before you leave?”

“Oh god yeah, coffee please.”

They heard a yell coming from the den.

“Footie’s on and the boy’s are in.” Dee said shrugging.

“Oh god, football.” Heather sighed, rolling her eyes as she placed her handbag on the kitchen table.

“Tell me about it.” replied Dee as she switched the kettle on.

Another yell sounded from the den and Dee just shook her head.

“I need to talk to Richie but I’m never going to be able to pull him away from the game, not with Jon and the boys in there.” Dee said pouring boiling water into two mugs and then handing one to Heather

“Why do you need to talk to him?” Heather asked, as she sipped her coffee.

“Can you keep a secret?” Dee asked, bursting with news and desperate to tell someone.

“Yeah.”

Dee handed her a blue plastic stick.

“Don’t worry, I washed it.”

Heather reached over to hug the younger woman, happy that she was able to do the one thing that Heather hadn’t; namely make Richie happy.

She sat back and drained the small cup before getting up and walking to the entrance to the den.

Richie was lounging in his LazEboy and the rest of the band were sprawled out on the huge sofa, with Tico standing in the doorway smoking a cigar.

Heather walked over to Richie and tried to get his attention but he just held his hand up, as if he was waving away an insect. She narrowed her eyes and walked back to the kitchen.

“RICHARD STEPHEN SAMBORA GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN RIGHT NOW!!” she yelled, knowing that the sound of her voice had an almost pavlovian effect on him.

Richie was up and halfway to the kitchen before the realisation that he was no longer married to Heather registered. He looked at her puzzled that she could still have that effect on him; like his mum yelling at him to clean his room.

Heather motioned for him to come into the kitchen, before picking up her bag and going to collect her daughter who was sat on the stairs playing with her itouch ipod.

Dee smiled at her husband as he walked towards her with a look of puzzled annoyance on his face. She handed him the blue plastic stick and waited for it to register.



Jon was really into the game as was David. Tico had wandered out into the garden to finish his cigar. It was a boy’s day of sport.

A huge yell was heard coming from the kitchen and Jon looked up to see Richie running past yelling, “I’M GOING TO BE A DAD AGAIN!!”, before heading back into the kitchen.

Jon just shook his head and watched the game.

Richie picked his wife up and twirled her around before hugging and kissing her.

“I love you Dee.” he said, as a small cry was heard from the baby monitor that Dee carried with her always.

“You’ve woken Stephen. I am so going to kill you. Get back in there and watch your game.” she scowled as she headed up the stairs.

“Honestly, men! Can’t live with ‘em; can’t shoot ‘em” she muttered, smiling to herself as she went to soothe her son.

Juan had moved in with Simon and they were blissfully happy, although he did have a tendency to call her every time they had an argument but it was getting better. In fact, she thought as she picked up their son, her life was the best it had ever been and, as she settled Stephen on her lap for a feed, she rubbed her lower stomach and thought ‘It’s only going to get better.’

Fin