New Orleans Bound

The following morning, the doctor cut right to the chase. "Jennifer, there's some great news, some really great news, and some less-than-great news."

Jennifer groaned. "Great," she said sarcastically. "Lay it on me."

Dr. Karp smiled indulgently and consulted his notes. "The great news is that you don't need surgery."

Richie let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "That's wonderful!" he said. Jennifer just gave him a look. She wasn't going to celebrate anything until she heard the rest of it.

"The really great news," the doctor continued, "is that you didn't tear anything but soft tissue. All your tendons and ligaments are completely intact, just a bit stretched out. All you did was dislocate your kneecap."

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "What's the punch line, doctor?"

He chuckled. "Well, that's the not-so-great news. We have two options for treatment: cast or brace. The cast will guarantee that the knee doesn't move around while the soft tissue heals. The brace will be better from a showering and itch perspective. You would just have to be diligent in keeping your leg straight when the brace isn't on."

Jennifer thought about it. "Which one is better for travel?"

The doctor frowned. "Where are you going?"

"New Orleans for the Arena Bowl," she said.

Richie interjected, "On a private plane." Jennifer just gave him a shocked look, which he ignored. "We can make sure she spends the whole flight with her leg up, and she won't have to worry about cramming into a commercial seat."

The doctor laughed at Jennifer's reaction. "Well, in that case, either would be fine, it'd be her preference."

The two men looked at Jennifer expectantly. She sighed. "I guess the brace. I want to be able to scratch and shower and all that good stuff." She smiled. "This is going to wreak havoc with my tanning."

The doctor made a notation in the chart and excused himself. "I'll go call the brace guy, and be right back. He'll come out and do a custom fitting."

"At my house?" Jennifer asked.

"Not sure," the doctor answered. "Either there or he'll have you come in here. I think he lives not too far from you, though, so he may be able to come to you. I'll find out." The doctor left Jennifer and Richie alone.

Jennifer turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Private plane? Really?"

Richie laughed. "Yes, a private plane. Why are you so dead set against me doing things for you?"

Jennifer looked chagrinned. "Sorry, baby," she said. "I'm not used to people, men, doing things for me without some ulterior motive, and frankly, I don't want you to feel like you HAVE to do things for me because of who you are." She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm just used to taking care of myself, and this is very hard for me."

"You know," Richie said, chuckling, "one of the perks of dating a rock star is getting star treatment." Jennifer laughed, and Richie continued. "You don't have to worry about me thinking you're taking advantage. I know you're accepting help under duress."

The doctor came back into the room. "The guy should call you today or tomorrow. If you don't hear from him by Wednesday, call us back. I'll see you again in three weeks, unless something comes up. Okay?"

"Will I have the brace by Thursday?" Jennifer asked. "We want to fly out Friday morning."

"Shouldn't be a problem," the doctor answered.

Jennifer was subdued on the ride back to her house. She had her sunglasses on, though the afternoon was overcast, and she was staring sightlessly out the window. This was going to be a colossal pain in the ass. She wanted to be able to go out and have fun with everyone when they went to Louisiana. Now she wasn't so sure she could do that. The game wouldn't be a problem, as she'd be in the owner's box, but all the rest of it...

She was looking forward to strolling around Bourbon Street and the French Quarter.

She had the perfect dress picked out for the ArenaBowl Awards Gala Friday night, but she wouldn't be able to mingle with Richie, and he'd feel honor bound to sit with her at their table.

She was looking forward to following the parade on Saturday and the party afterwards.

She could still do the Commissioner's brunch with Rich, but damn, again, he'd be tied to her side, when he should be enjoying himself.

She sighed, and surreptitiously wiped a tear from her eye.

"Rich," she started, "I think I should bail on the weekend."

Richie was shocked. "Why? I think if we're careful, everything will be fine." She told him why she thought she should stay home. Richie was quiet for a minute. "Listen, do you WANT to go?"

"Of course I do," Jennifer said, "but--"

"No buts," Richie interrupted. "If you want to go, and the doc said it was okay, then you'll go. We'll adjust. It's not a big deal."

"But you--"

"I said, no buts, missy," Richie tried a glare, but it came off as more of a constipated face, and Jennifer laughed. "Really. You can stand with me for a while, and we'll make sure there's always a chair nearby in case you need to rest."

"Are you sure?" Jennifer asked. "I don't want to spoil the fun."

"You'd spoil it by not coming," Richie said. "I've been looking forward to this for a couple weeks now, and I would be sad if you didn't come."

They pulled into her driveway, and Richie keyed in the alarm code and cruised through like he'd been doing it for years. He pulled the car around to the back of the house, and helped Jennifer from the car. He wrapped her in a hug. "Say you'll come to New Orleans with me?" His eyes were earnest, and his smile was irresistible.

Jennifer smiled. “How can I resist this face?” she asked. “I’ll come, but no bitching from you.”

“No worries,” Richie said. “I have a feeling you’ll be bitching enough for the both of us.”

“HEY!” she said, thumping his chest. “That was mean.”

“Not mean, sweetie, just dead honest. You make a lousy patient.” He smiled, “except when you’re jet lagged. Then you’re mostly asleep, and really easy to take care of.”

“You bitch,” she said to him, laughing.

“You’re laughing because you know I’m right,” Richie said smugly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jennifer answered, as they went inside.