Chapter 2

She turned to her keyboard. "Right." Shit, he sounded nearly insulted. It wasn't as if she'd laughed at his song, or put it down. She'd said it was ok. God just like the rest of the Holly-weirds she'd met. Super sensitive feelings overriding the little talent they had. Oh shut up Alex, the man has more talent than you wanna admit too.

Shaking her head she opened a file and started tapping, trying to put coherent thought to what she'd seen so far. She continued typing, trying to not listen as they continued to work, but as the second song kept playing over and over she sighed and shut the laptop down. She couldn’t THINK with the music playing, might as well watch the man work and get a feel for how he operated.

He walked back over to the board. Was gave him a what’s up gesture with his hands and Richie just shook his head and mouthed, “later.” He nodded to the studio. “I’m not feelin’ Blessed, man. Let’s move on to Flame.”

Was smirked. “You mean, Mr. Bluesman two?”

“Fuck off, I’m not naming it that.” It was an ongoing fight they’d been having. It had Bluesman’s flavor, but it was different. Harder. He needed harder right now. Letting someone listen to Pain Where Once There Was a Heart had fucked with his insides already, but to get the blank look from the ice princess. Hell with that. He needed to work on something that would feed off the aggression sitting in his gut.

“Take it from the bridge. I need my Ovation, so give me a few minutes to tune it.” He slid the familiar guitar over his head. Humming as he tuned it, fired off a squeal of ripping notes, then flicked at the dials along the side of the guitar.

“Temperamental little one today, are you,” he soothed. “C’mon, give me that sweet…” He smiled as the tuning came right and the sound he wanted hit his ears. “Ahh, that’s a girl.”

His eyes closed as he found the notes in his memory banks. His brain was clanging with notes and lyrics. But today was for the music. He needed it after the ripping fight he’d had with Heather the night before. His ex-wife delighted in turning on the drama that she normally left for acting into his daughter’s life.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he went off stride.

“Start it over, man. It was solid until just a second ago.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just fucking hold on,” he muttered and stood up. This wasn’t a sitting song. He adjusted a dial and ripped into the song, pushing thoughts of his ex away and the annoyance in the control room. The music was what he needed. The only thing that would save him, he feared

She went still as the music changed; started pounding into her with relentlessness, calling up things that usually only art or color could call up in her. This was no bluesy song, no quiet uttering of pain. This was anger, unmitigated deep soul anger that yelled at the pain, and the things that caused it. Jesus, what was wrong with this man? Holly-weird didn’t do pain, they medicated it away, but this wasn't medicated, it was full on in your face take it and deal with it anger.

She lifted her eyes to the big window separating the booth from the room she was in and almost reeled back at the contortions of his face. He was the song, the song was him, no more no less.

Jesus.

Richie opened his eyes expecting Was, instead it was her at the window, still, utterly still as she watched. He couldn't read her. He prided on himself on reading people easily, but not her. She was as cool as marble. Lips that were probably full and smooth, were pinched as she tried to...hell, was she trying to figure him out? He met her eyes then broke the contact. The sheen of her glasses broke apart what she was thinking with those gold eyes of hers. Breaking contact he grinned at Was. "How was that?"

"Fucking awesome. Just one more pass at verse two. It got a little sloppy."

Richie nodded, satisfied when Was went into words like awesome. It was a rare thing indeed. He glanced at Alex and then back down to his guitar.

The one with the dreads obviously couldn't think. Maybe his braids were on too tight. It had sounded... exquisite to her. She shook her head; wanting to move back to her safe spot, to her computer, but couldn't. He was already playing again, that same sound rippling from the instrument in his hands.

Risking a glance at the guy named Don she shook her head and turned back to the window. She didn't like being made to think her assessments were wrong. ALL men were flakes, but this one. He’s different. She forced herself to turn and take a step back, he was Holly-weird, she'd just have to keep reminding herself of that.

For the next hour, he pushed ahead with song after song. Finally he waved to Was. "I think I'm tapped for the night, man." He twisted his wrist, surprised to see it was more like two hours gone. His belly growled. Well past quitting time he thought with a hand to his belly. "Wanna hit some Thai food?"

"Nah, I gotta meet Marcy for dinner before she breaks up with me. I've been hanging with your ugly ass every night this week."

Richie rolled his eyes. "I'm prettier than you, and that's all that matters."

She snorted loudly as the men talked. She couldn't see it, he looked like a hobo gone wrong really with his holy pants and faded shirt. Ego could stand to come down a notch though; he obviously thought he was the cat's meow.

He set his guitar back in its custom foam case and stacked it next to the Les Paul. "So, eleven tomorrow good?"

"Yeah, that lets me even have a little late night," he shifted his hips around. "Marcy is gonna be grinning again."

"Man!" Richie laughed and spotted the ice princess' glacial stare. "Ahem, there's a lady present you shit. Sorry, Ms. Walker. Did you get what you needed?"

She placed her laptop in its case before speaking. "I usually like to catch someone in all modes. You know, work, play, just going about day to day. It fleshes things out really, so the art or site for the CD isn’t so one dimensional. But if you’re satisfied with one dimensional, that’s good by me. It's your cover." she turned to lift her briefcase and tote, shifting it to her shoulders swiftly. "No skin off my nose if you wanna go second rate." And gets me away from that pounding ache you bring with that music of yours.

Richie jerked the door open and set his cases down in the hallway. "Look, lady. I'm all for artistic expression, but you've had your nose out of joint since you walked in here." He jerked his leather jacket on, buckles jangling. He sat down, jamming his flips into his duffle bag and tugged on socks and sneakers. "You do what you want, or maybe I should ask your boss to send out a different artist." He peered up at her, interested to see what she'd say. At least get a reaction out of her for fuck's sake.

"Figures, Holly-weird. Can't keep to anything for more than a minute right?" She stopped suddenly and wanted to kick herself. Shit she NEVER let her lips fly when on a call. Shit.

He stood up, duffle swinging. "Holly-weird, huh?" He searched her face, pleased to see that she was flustered. "Well, Mz. Walker. We start at eleven tomorrow. Be here or don't. Your choice." He waved to Donny, heading down the hallway without a backwards glance.

She had to fix this, awww hell what would it hurt to be honest? "Hey!"

She started a running commentary in her head. She'd pissed off a client, that was so not good if you wanted the next promotion. She'd have to eat crow, then go home and eat Pepto. She stood there watching his back as he strolled away; well if he didn’t turn around and answer at least she'd tried.

"See you tomorrow, Lex." Richie said over his shoulder and kept on walking.

"HEY!" She took a few strides forward and growled. "LOOK MR. SAMBORA!"

He stopped, not turning around. "Look, lady. I'm tired, I'm sore. I want a bath and a Coke." He swiveled his head enough to get a look at her. The crazy knot of hair that had been ruthlessly pulled back was skewed and her eyes were wide. "If you're worried I'll fire you, don't. Just drop the 'tude and we'll be fine."

She shook her head. "Just wanted to," She winced and swallowed back the bile that rose, "Say I was wrong."

"Yeah, you were." He pushed open the door and ignored the crow she was swallowing with as much grace as a crocodile. "Goodnight." Everything inside him said to wait, to see what she was about. But his instincts had been shit lately and he just didn't trust himself. He walked around the corner to his car, trying to shut out the way her glasses slid down her flaring nose. He so didn't need to be attracted to her dammit.

Fuck. The first time in years she admitted to being wrong and it was brushed off. She couldn't stop the slump of her shoulders as she walked from the building, her eyes lifting to the left as she hoped for a taxi. She didn't feel like walking now.

Well fuck him, he couldn't appreciate an apology, she'd just have to find a way to deal and get the job done.