He snuck a look over at Jon sleeping peacefully on the bed on the other side of the room with the phone still under his pillow. Light filtered through the room at—he shuffled the small travel alarm clock toward him—8:30 in the fucking morning.
There was something ridiculously wrong with that. Sighing he stood up and hiked his boxers up in deference to a roommate and yanked the phone out from under Jon without ceremony. The fucker hadn’t moved.
Must be nice to be lulled to sleep by the sound of your woman’s voice. Okay, so Kate wasn’t exactly Jon’s woman, but she may as well be with all the mooning Jon did. Good Fuck.
~
The girl stared at the door momentarily before knocking. How the hell did she get roped into this job?
She was just an assistant to the arena manager. She didn’t deserve to be a delivery woman! Why did they want her to face down rock stairs at this ungodly hour? Taking a breath she knocked again, softly, hoping this stupid Richie Longfellow wasn’t a deep sleeper.
~
Richie gave disgusted sigh at Jon who didn't move as another rap of knuckles echoed through the room. He turned back to Jon, if anything he smiled in his sleep and settled in deeper. "Fuckhead," he muttered still miserable.
Taking a deep breath he moved to the door and looked through the peephole. A huge spray of flowers in varying tones of grey, purple and sickly yellow filled the doorway. God knew what the real colors of the flowers were. Opening the door in surprise he completely forgot he was only wearing a pair of boxers.
“These got delivered to the Odeon, for a Richie Longfellow?? They told me downstairs this was his room," said the flowers.
He looked over the blooms at the little delivery woman that didn't look like she could hold the vase let alone carry it through the entire hotel. He quickly hooked his arm around the vase. "Thanks, darlin'," he said with a bright smile.
Confused, he fished into the blooms until he found a card. Sure enough it said his name. He set the vase on the small kitchenette table they had in the room.
"Oh, shit," he said and patted cotton covered thighs. "Let me grab some cash for a tip," he said and left the door open.
"Don’t worry about it Mr. Longfellow,” the woman waved him back. ‘”Tip was included in the delivery. Someone has some rather wild feelings for you." The girl glanced up at him, wondering what was so cool about this one rock star, but shrugged. "Lucky you, I guess."
His fingers lingered on the doorknob. "Yeah?" he said with a silly grin. "I don't think I've ever gotten flowers except when we visit Japan."
The girl grinned. His warm smile probably had something to do with the delivery. "Yeah? My mom's a florist.” She waved at the overflowing vase. “She told me on more than one occasion that almost every flower has a meaning.” She stepped forward. “Like those,” she pointed to a bloom, “those are Forget Me Nots…self explanatory. You know? They say remember me.”
Richie’s face split into a huge grin.
At her captive audience, the woman kept pointing out flowers. “Those yellow and orange roses mean passion, the periwinkle…”she trailed off at his blank look. “That’s the little ones. Well, they say stuff about not being able to be without you. And the allysum?” Her fingers rose to the center of the vase. “That’s the best bunch. It means someone considers you beyond worth."
“Yeah?” Richie looked back at the bunch of springtime brightening the room.
"You have a nice day now." Turning the girl wandered off down the hall shaking her head.
Richie closed the door and sat at the little breakfast bar. He folded his arms on the small surface, staring at the flowers, a little taken aback by the pretty display of colors. A few of them came through in the Technicolor fuck up that was his brain.
He flicked the tiny bud of a yellow rose. Funny, he thought the yellow had always meant friendship. He liked passion, much better.
Grinning, suddenly in a much better mood he flipped open the small card.
A swirling heart was just above her signed name. "Well damn," he said softly. It should have felt silly to get flowers from a chick, considering it was his job to do the sending, but he was immeasurably touched. He wondered if Elena had chosen the blooms for their meaning or if they'd been a coincidence.Something told him it was deliberate, but he decided to keep that tidbit to himself. He turned to shut the door and found their drummer and keyboardist loitering in the hall. "What the hell are you guys doing up?"
Dave grinned. "Haven't been to bed yet, actually."
Teek blew a stream of smoke out. "Saw the little lady at the door and thought you had reverted back to natural form my man."
"Shaddup, Teek," Richie said and held open the door. It may have been normal form a few months ago, but everything had changed in a few weeks. "Well c'mon in then. Can't have you morons in the hallway,” he glanced down to make sure the coast was clear and waved them in, “some chick will see you and the whole hotel will be camping out on this floor."
Teek sauntered in a big grin on his face. "Pretty flowers," he said with a waggle of his bushy brows. He looked over at Jon. "What you two party too hard last night, Swing?"
"Nah, we were the lame brothers last night," he said with a grin.
Teek shook his head "That’s so wrong, man. How can you say no to all these beautiful women?"
"Why would I want one of those little chickadees when I got a delicious and inventive woman waiting for me at home?"
Teeks eyebrow arched upwards slightly. "Oh really? Damn, the things that happen on vacation."
"Well as soon as she lets me convince her she's taken, I'm taking her anyway," he said with a flash of dimple.
"Taking her where? She'd have to be insane to go anywhere with you," David said and flopped on the couch coming in on the end of the conversation. "Especially, if you're driving."
Teek snorted. "She have a death wish?"
"She's already driven with me, thank you very much, and she had no complaints. With either shifter," he said with a hearty laugh.
"Whoa ho! Lookit here, we've got ourselves a man with a plan. Are you going to be the first of us to fall, Rich? Say it ain't so!" Davey said with his hands over his heart then making a noose in the air.
A soft growl came from the bed side of the room. "What the fucking hell?" Jon's eyes opened fractionally and saw his band holding conference. "It’s too fucking early for this, assholes."
"Ah the prince wakes," Dave said as he swiveled his head. "Join us, we'll even call up for coffee," he called out.
A sneeze rattled his sleep deprived brain and Jon rolled over with a groan. "Fuck off man.” He squinted at the clock and shoved the pillow over his head again. “I was up too late for this. What the hell has you all so hyped?" he said, voice muffled.
"Richie got himself some flowers. We thought it was going to be a strip-o-gram," David shot back.
Richie walked by and thumped Dave in the head as he reached for the phone. He glanced at the clock and put the phone back down. Hell, it was almost 4am back home.
Jon sat up wearily and looked at the flowers, well that explained the sneeze at least. He dragged his palm over the heavy beard he was too lazy to shave off. "I see, what’d you do? Scare the stripper off?"
"Alas, the good man just had a regular delivery." David sunk lower in the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm very disappointed."
Jon's brow arched as he looked at Richie. "Who’s sending you flowers?"
"Richie and," Dave got up and lifted the card off the table. "Elena," he said breathlessly with a flutter of eyelashes. "Oh look! She calls him PONY!" His head tipped back with a barking laugh that echoed through the room. "Do I want to know what Pony stands for!?"
Ignoring Jon and Dave he mumbled, "Fuck it," and lifted the receiver, quickly dialing the codes he needed to call overseas. The phone rang twice before a sleepy voice answered.
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