The Interview

Note, I’ve taken some liberties with what record is coming out this year lol

“No, I won’t do it.” Madeline Taylor rolled her eyes at herself as her heart sped up. She muted the speakerphone and cursed herself out for being stupid. She was a professional, for Christ’s sake. “Jon, I don’t have time for this.” She applied the last of her makeup and nodded at her reflection. Flawless, as usual. She sighed, she needed to get Jon off the phone or she was going to be late.

“C’mon, Maddie, you HAVE to do this. I’ve been hinting to him for weeks that you want to do the interview.”

“I don’t HAVE to do anything,” Madeline countered. “And don’t blame me for you running your mouth, John-boy. This is my profession you want to play with. It’s like me asking you to come do drunken karaoke with me.” She blotted her ruby-red lipstick, her trademark. “Not gonna happen.”

“Madeline. Mad-dog. Linny. Sweetheart, please. I’ll even pay for you to fly out to LA.”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Jon,” Madeline said, laughing at the way he pulled out all her old nicknames, “or I’ll tell Dorothea on you.” She sighed. “And I could pay my own way, thank you very much, but it isn’t going to happen. And now, if you don’t get off my phone, I’m going to be late for the White House. And so are you. You know it is impolite to keep the President waiting.”

“The President will never know the difference, and will probably be late himself,” Jon said. He waited her out. Finally, he was rewarded with a sigh.

“Look, I’ll think about it, okay?” Madeline could practically see Jon preening on the other end of the phone.

Jon mimicked her sigh. “I guess that’ll do for now,” he conceded. “But I’m going to try again at dinner, you know that, right?”

“Oh hell, you’re at my table, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

Jon had gotten an invitation to attend the White House’s Correspondents’ dinner. He was seated at the ABC table with Madeline, the premier entertainment reporter in New York. Nothing was cool, hip, or now that didn’t have Maddie’s stamp of approval. Everything from movies to theater to art to music – nothing was outside her realm. It was only right that she’d interview Richie, now that he was finally putting the finishing touches on his third solo album.

She had always made it a point to set up interviews when it was just Jon available. The other guys joked with him that Maddie had a crush on him. Jon brushed them off, citing their long history as the reason she was more comfortable just speaking with him. He knew damned well that she had a crush on his best friend. But still, she was a professional, she should be able to put that aside. This was important to Richie.

“That’s alright,” Jon said, “we can just have a nice dinner together; catch up on old times.”

The sarcasm dripping off the ‘old times’ remark wasn’t lost on Madeline. “Jesus, Jon, I do NOT want to relive high school, thank you very much!” She sighed again. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. But you owe me. BIG time.”

“Deal.”

“Shit.”

* * * * *

Richie was fiddling with the bridge in one of his songs when his cell phone rang. He ignored it, swearing at himself for not turning the fucking thing off. He knew that his family, Jon and the guys included, would never call him when he was working. If it was an emergency, they’d call on the land-line. He could ignore his cell without feeling guilty. He smiled absently when the ringing stopped.

A few minutes later the phone started to ring again. “Son of a bitch,” Richie growled. He carefully set down the Ovation he was working with and stood, pulling the offending device from his pocket. “What?” he asked, practically snarling at the caller.

“Good afternoon,” the caller said cheerfully, totally unfazed by his rudeness. It was a young woman’s voice Richie heard, and he was annoyed that he couldn’t place her. Sighing, he dropped back into his chair to deal with the caller. Then he’d turn off his cell and maybe be able to get some work done.

“Hello,” Richie started again. “Who’s this?”

“This is Angela Bradford, Madeline Taylor’s assistant. Is this Mr. Sambora?”

“It is,” Richie said, intrigued.

“Wonderful. Please hold for Ms. Taylor.” Richie heard a buzz, and soft jazz played for just a moment before the esteemed Madeline Taylor came on the line. Richie sat up straighter in his chair. Really? Madeline Taylor?

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sambora,” Madeline said.

“Ms. Taylor,” Richie answered.

“Thank you for taking time to talk to me, Mr. Sambora.” She never took the liberty of using first names until invited to do so. She showed that small measure of respect to every artist, actor, and director she had ever interviewed, and had done since she was a junior reporter for Page Six. Plus, keeping her distance meant she could keep some modicum of professionalism when all she wanted to do was sigh and swoon at the sound of his voice.

“Ms. Taylor, please, call me Richie,” Richie said. “Jon said you might be calling. It’s distinctly my pleasure.”

“Richie, then, it’s wonderful to speak with you again,” Madeline said. “And please, call me Madeline.” The velvety-soft tones of her voice evaporated the last of his anger at being interrupted. “What’s it been, fifteen years?”

“Something like that,” Richie answered. “I think Jon always wanted to do the talking when you’ve come calling.” He chuckled. “It was almost as if he didn’t want us talking to you.”

“Yes,” Madeline answered, and Richie would swear he could hear her smiling. “I did always speak with Jon. But now you have a new record coming out.”

“I do,” Richie said proudly.

Madeline smiled to herself, hearing the grin in his voice. She could picture his eyes crinkling and the flash of dimples. Get a hold of yourself, woman, she said to herself. “Listen, I would love to talk to you about your record and your tour plans for when it’s released. I’ll be out your way soon; what is your schedule like in the next couple of weeks?”

“Busy,” Richie said, “but not to busy for lunch with a beautiful woman.”

“Now Richie,” Madeline said blushing and inwardly screaming in delight, “you know that giving me compliments will not influence the way I write you up, right? I don’t spin the answers I get.”

“I know, I know, but we could still do lunch. How’s next Thursday sound?”

Madeline looked at her calendar. “Perfect. I can do one o’clock. Where should we meet?”

“You could come out here, if it isn’t too much trouble. Magda is a wonderful cook, and we can talk without interruption.”

“Perfect,” Madeline said, though inside she was shaking. If there was nobody to overhear their conversation, there was a chance she’d go stupid. She’d have to make sure there was no possible way this could bite her in the ass later. “Next Thursday it is. See you then; I’m looking forward to it.”

* * * * *

They had settled on the deck, overlooking acres of landscaped beauty. Magda had served up a delicious pasta primavera, and then disappeared discreetly into the house. So far, Madeline thought, the interview was going quite well. Richie played some of the finished tracks for her and she asked thoughtful, insightful questions about the lyrical content. No swooning at all. Maybe she could pull this off. She smiled and took another sip of her wine, wondering when her glass been refilled. She could have sworn it was nearly empty a moment ago. She asked more questions of Richie who seemed to be always in motion. His hands were constantly moving, and she could see his leg bouncing up and down as well.

“So, you seem a little antsy. Are you anxious about the release?” Madeline waited while Richie forked up another bite of his pasta.

“A little,” he admitted, though that wasn’t why he was fidgety. From the moment she walked into his foyer, he wanted to dig his fingers into her up-do and release those mahogany tresses from their bindings. He thought he had tamped down those thoughts, but apparently they were making him twitchy, and Ms. Taylor was more than a little perceptive. He’d have to try harder to mask his attraction to her. “This is only my third solo effort, and the first one in over ten years.” He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, getting his libido under control. “So yeah, I’m a little anxious. I mean, I know the music is good, so I’m not worried about that. I do care what the fans think, though. I really want them to like it.”

“And what of the critics?” Madeline asked, winking.

Richie chuckled. “I really don’t care what the critics say...”

Madeline said nothing, just raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“Okay, okay,” Richie laughed. “I care. It’s not like there’s something else for me to fall back on, you know?”

Madeline laughed along with him. “You mean there wasn’t anything you wanted to do besides play music? No other aspirations?”

“Well, at one point, I really wanted to be a doctor,” Richie said, then winked. “But I can’t stand the sight of blood!”

She smiled. “A doctor, huh? And here I thought Jonny had the save-the-world complex.” She steepled her fingers and tapped them against her pursed lips. “I would imagine the sight of you decked out in scrubs is something to behold,” she said, surprising herself. Damn that wine. But, in for a penny, in for a pound, as her father liked to say. “I could just imagine you giving some poor woman a heart attack as you strolled into the room.”

Richie choked on a laugh. “You’re probably right,” he said, his heart pounding wildly.

She smiled wickedly. “I’m sure you would have had no trouble at all getting her to take off her clothes.”

Was she flirting with him? He motioned for her to lean in close, like he wanted to tell her a secret. “I don’t have that trouble now, darlin’.”

Now it was Madeline’s turn to laugh. His voice was delicious in her ear. “Touché, Richie. So tell me, are you going to tour this record?” She was back to business, and Richie wondered if he imagined her reaction to him.

Madeline was dong her best to keep her color and breathing even. Her flirting was incredibly wrong, but she couldn’t help herself. If she wasn’t very, very careful, she could irreparably damage her reputation and ruin her career. Dammit, though, she wasn’t quite immune to Richie’s charms, and when he leaned in to mumble in her ear, she felt it clear down to her panties. Maybe the sexy leading questions weren’t the right ones to do – it would appear that Richie wouldn’t mind a little banter. She had to cool herself down.

“Yeah, I’m planning on a tour,” Richie said, taking Madeline’s lead and being all business again. “I’ll probably do something small, just a few months, like I did for Stranger. You know, just to get it out there; to stand behind it, so to speak. Besides, I’ve gotten lots of requests for a new tour, and I don’t like to disappoint the fans. Hang on.” He went back inside and came back a minute later with a dog-eared, colorfully tagged hefty tome. He dropped it on the table, where it landed with a resounding ‘thud’.

“What’s that?” Madeline asked, honestly curious.

“That is a birthday gift from some of my fans,” he answered. “They’re letters and notes wishing me a happy birthday. I turn fifty next month, you know.”

“Yes, I did know that,” Madeline said, a little too quickly. She hastened to add, “Jon mentioned it.”

“Anyway, the ones with the tags sticking out the side are all fans asking for a new tour.” He chuckled self-consciously. “I think nearly three quarters of the people who sent something asked for a new tour.”

“And what of the other tags?”

Richie laughed. “The ones sticking out the bottom are asking for, shall we say, more personal things than a tour. The ones on the tagged at the top are my favorites and make me laugh.”

“Read me a couple,” Madeline asked.

Richie complied, picking from his favorites. He read with great inflection and wild gestures, and had Madeline laughing. He couldn’t believe how well this was going. Not that he was a loser when it came to interviews, but it really was more Jon’s bag. He got tired of answering the same questions over and over again. It was refreshing to have a conversation with a reporter rather than suffer through annoying and stupid questions. Besides, she was nice to talk to, and very easy on the eyes. Her dark hair was swept up in a messy topknot, and her sun-kissed skin looked soft and all but begged for him to touch.

“Alright, your fans sure are entertaining, and some of them are pretty creative.” She smiled. “So, here’s a lateral-thinking, creative question for you. If you were an animal, what would you be?”

Richie blinked. Was she for real? That was the kind of question that inevitably turned up on the fan lists when he got interviewed by different websites or radio stations. He couldn’t believe that question came from this pillar of the entertainment journalism community. He saw her slight smile and noticed the pulse at her throat beat a little harder. He decided to turn up the heat a little, see what happened.

“Seriously?” he asked, just to be sure. When Madeline just nodded, Richie pretended to think for a moment. “Well, first of all, I’m not sure why any ‘creative’ person would want to be an animal in the first place. I mean, for sure they'd be bored out of their skulls. All animals do all day is wander around, find food, eat, sleep, and have sex.” Richie stopped for a moment.

Madeline laughed. “And that sounds bad to you because...”

Richie chuckled. She couldn’t have made this easier if he had scripted her response. “The sex is usually restricted to the mating season. I’m not exactly one for waiting, if you know what I mean.”

HA! he thought to himself. He got her to react again.

Madeline laughed nervously and started to blush. “Uh, what’s the second of all?” She had to get herself under control.

“Secondly, animals don’t have thumbs, and I couldn’t play guitar. No way do I want to be an animal. Sorry.”

Madeline nodded. “OK then, good avoidance there, Richie.”

Richie laughed. “Sorry, but you have to admit, that’s a bonkers question.”

She raised one corner of her mouth in a smirk. “You think my questions are idiotic? Does that mean the interview’s over?” She delicately wiped the corners of her mouth and set her napkin on the side of her plate. She finished her wine and stood.

“No!” Richie said, a little too quickly. “I mean, there’s no need to rush out, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Madeline laughed a full-throated laugh that had Richie’s pants tightening. “I was just giving you a hard time,” she said.

“I’ll say you were,” Richie muttered under his breath.

“What’s that?” Madeline countered.

“Nothing, nothing,” Richie answered.

“I really didn’t have any more questions; I have more than enough to work with here and you’ve been more than generous with your time.”

Richie stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t sure he wanted the afternoon to be over. But he knew that Madeline had a reputation for never mixing business with pleasure. Still, he’d kick himself if he didn’t ask. “So, are you going to be in town for long?”

Madeline shook her head. “Just through the weekend. I’ve got some writing to do today and tomorrow; I have to go to press with this,” she held up her notebook and digital voice recorder, “on Monday. Why?” Her heart was thumping so loudly, she was sure he could hear it.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me again before you go,” he said. “You could come into the studio; I can let you hear some of the unfinished tracks, maybe play something for you.” He smiled a deep, endearing smile, one that lit up his entire face, making his eyes twinkle.

She looked at him, her mouth twisting into a sexy smile. She really should have stopped at one glass of wine, but her business was officially concluded, so what the hell? “Is that something like showing me your etchings, Mr. Sambora?” Her eyes met his, then flicked down to his lips and back.

Richie smiled at Madeline, leaning in toward her. “Perhaps it is. Are you interested in my etchings, Ms. Taylor?”

Madeline leaned in as well. “Perhaps I am,” she breathed.

Richie searched her eyes for a moment. “Saturday?”

All Madeline could do was nod.

~*~ THE END ~*~