Chapter 39

He wandered out into the studio. Richie was busily scratching on a tablet of paper. “I thought you’d be passed out cold.”

“Nah, I was enjoying the entertainment.” He absently pointed to the next room, his eyes still on the pad. “You left the mic on.”

Jon turned back to the booth and saw the red light. “Fuck.” He scowled at Richie. “You could have turned it off.”

He looked up and his dimple winked deep. “Not for a cool million.”

Jon clenched his jaw. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

“She seems to be a pretty intelligent chick from the conversation. Of course mine was one sided. I’m kinda sick of your voice to be honest. You could have put the phone on speaker for me, let me hear that sexy voice you were obviously enjoying.”

“You’re going to find my boot up your ass in a minute, and then you won’t have to worry about it.”

“Seriously, the longing thing…totally clicked for me. I barely heard what you said.”

Jon slid into the chair and crossed his arms with a scowl, “Right.”

“Well, until you talked about the booty call,” he smirked. “She got a nice booty?”

“Eat shit.”

“Aww don’t act like you’re getting fist fucked by Mike Tyson, man. It’s not like you said anything revealing.”

Jon’s eyebrow raised, “Mike Tyson?”

He nodded to the TV in the upper right corner on mute. “He was just on TV. Got arrested or some shit.”

“Ahh,” he said understanding completely.

“Sure surprised me that she’s a fan though. You usually don’t go for groupies.”

“She’s not a groupie,” Jon said and stood jerkily.

Richie sat back in his chair. Hmmm…hit a nerve on that one. “You know it’s kind of hard not to find a chick that isn’t a fan, Jonny. We’ve been around forever.”

Jon plowed both hands in his hair. “Yeah, I know. The fan thing doesn’t bother me…well not really. She’s not fanatical or anything. It’s just weird to get used to sometimes. Dot wasn’t like that. You know she never gave a shit about that stuff, but Tessa does, and even wants to talk about it.”

“Hell, that’s a good thing. You do know that normal people want the people they love to give a shit about what they do.”

“You sayin’ I’m not normal?”

“I’ve been telling you that daily, dude.” Richie watched his friend frown and hung back on the bull shit. “Seriously, it’s a good thing to have a woman in your life that’s nothing like your past. Believe me.”

Jon pushed his hair out of his eyes again. Never in all the twenty-something years he’d been friends with Rich had he thought they’d end up single in their forties. Life sure had a funny way of working out.

Instead of commenting, Jon just gave him a bland stare and snatched the white pad they habitually used for writing. Through the ink blots, scribbles and chicken scratch he found Richie’s rhythm and picked up his acoustic to try it out.

Richie fell into step with him and tweaked the original chords until he was happy and the strumming resumed. A natural harmony that few people could duplicate resonated through the small control room.

They started over again and Jon flipped the record button to get a rough idea of how it sounded. He stopped, rearranging the lines of the bridge and added a bit, took away a little more and the heart of the acoustic took over as Richie found the magic that they strove for in every song.

Whether it was conscious or not, Jon found himself drawing out the words in an achingly soft croon as he expressed the want and the need he found deep inside. He closed his eyes as the music took over.

When the room drifted into silence he opened his eyes at the soft click of the tape being turned off. He sat back in his seat and their eyes met.

Richie’s face split into an almost maniacal smile. “Man, that was so it.”

Without a word, he reached over to the console and let the recording stream into the room. It was rough, but the guts were there and the ending closed around him and he heard the heart. “I think we got something there.”

Richie jumped up and tucked his guitar in his case. “We so need a drink after that one. That rocked!”

Jon leaned back and rested his guitar in one of the stands that littered the studio. “I agree on the drink.” He needed something to help him settle. He glanced at his watch. “Looks like it’s going to have to be in our suite though.”

Richie winced. “What time is it?”

“Oh, 4:30.”

“Look at that old man, you almost made it to sunrise.”

“Hey Richie?” Jon looked into one of his oldest friends deep brown eyes and said, “Fuck you,” cheerfully.

Richie hauled him in for a hug. “Fuck you too, man!”