Chapter 4

"From an artistic standpoint you aren't that ...." She stopped, forcing herself and her thoughts back, but damn he didn't look that bad. Yeah he had a few lines, like he said he'd played hard, but damned if fate and aging wasn't being kind to him.

She pulled herself from her perusal of his face and turned towards the wide array of guitars behind him. "So which lady is your favorite?"

"Ahhh," he folded his arms over his guitar. "That's like asking which kid I like best." He nodded to the Les Paul. "That's my joy though. I can't record without the '59 Les Paul. She helps me find my way in and out of a song when I'm stuck."

She'd had a favorite brush like that. When the picture wouldn't come, or the colors wouldn't mesh just right, she could pick up that one brush and suddenly the canvas would spring to life. It had never failed her, well it had finally and that’s why she was here now. "She's important to you, that’s a simple thing we could use." She nodded and leaned forward typing a few words.

"I'm color blind," he said conversationally. When she looked up at him and stared he laughed. "I know, sucks doesn't it? Red, green colorblind to be exact. So if you can keep out of those colors so my record doesn't look muddy to me, that'd be cool."

"Which type? Do all the shades bleed together or do you just not see anything that has that color in it?" she couldn't imagine not seeing color, or seeing how it breathed life into everything. "Favorite colors?"

"Just mostly comes through as a grey color with some funky swirls in there sometimes." He shrugged. "It sucks when a hot redhead walks by you and all you see is grey hair," he laughed at the way her eyes shuttered. Teasing her was going to be a bit too fun if she kept pokering up like a nun in room full of dildos. "I'm a purple guy, though that yellow is pretty too." He nodded to her glasses. "I don't think I've known anyone with that particular type of glasses. Do they all match?"

She stopped typing a moment and looked up at him with a bewildered gaze. "Do what all match?"

"Well I've only seen you twice, but each time your glasses matched something in your whole," he twirled his fingers, "getup."

She tilted her head, and thought a moment. Shit, she did, never had really thought about it before but damn she did. "Never thought about it before, but come to think of it more match than not." She'd have to make it a point of mixing it up from now on. "I like glasses."

"Suits you," he said absently and stood as Was bustled in. "'Bout time. What'd you do, get a nooner too?"

"Ha!" Don barked. "You're just jealous because you aren't getting an--" he cut off. "Uh, hello Mz. Walker."

"Mr. Was." She nodded and turned back to her computer.

Richie absently patted her shoulder and headed out to the control booth. "Be right back." He talked shop with Donny for a few minutes, watching Alex under cover of her obliviousness. She was pounding away on her keys, the single minded determination there in the stiffness of her posture and the way she never looked up. Even as she was listening...he could tell she was listening to every word, soaking it in, as was her way. Multi-tasking females, a man's curse and a woman's survival.

He leaned on the board as he talked chord progression and what tracks he wanted to lay down today. She was distracting in a way he couldn't put his finger on. It wasn't just the way she ignored him and tried to compartmentalize him, but the way she thought about things.

She was a little different in her thinking...not overly female. Very linear like Jon, actually. He laughed to himself. He was getting turned on by the female version of his workaholic best friend. Just fucking great. How twisted was that?

He'd noticed how she matched glasses to clothing. God, he'd noticed that small tiny thing. He saw too much this man, and though she wanted to change that thing, quit maching her glasses to her clothes she knew he'd see that too and know she'd done it because of him. Ok so he’s more attentive to detail than I thought he’d be, not like what I thought. I can deal with this, just means the cover to the CD might not be as one dimensional as I originally thought.

Sighing she pushed her thoughts back, her fingers flying over the keys as she noted which color schemes would be the initial trial covers. In this one cover, the shadows would be important. The shadows would convey the search, and the brighter colors the Redemption.

He was a shadow to her still, formless, dark, but the light was beginning to bleed through, if only a little, and it was that little bit, that taste that had the artist inside yammering to learn more. The canvas was only started, she wanted the canvas complete.

And then her thoughts stopped as she listened to him work. He was so intent on his music, the emotion just bled through, if it were a color it would be red, and there, a hint of blue. The landscape he painted was full of blues, of hurt and just a tinge of gray for fear. What was he afraid of?

She couldn't stop herself, she had to watch this song play out.