06.

*Note: Happy fourth of July & yay for filler chapters!*

The following day, Richie and Jon were back in the studio. Jon had returned with even more ideas than he’d left with, and he passed several notes over to Richie. Studying over them, Richie rubbed the back of his neck.

“Damn, Jon. This stuff is deep.”
”That’s the idea, you dumb fuck,” Jon laughed, taking them back. “So I take it that’s a yes?”
”That’s a hell yes, son,” Richie said loudly, leaning forward in his chair and laughing loudly. Jon grabbed Richie’s guitar and passed it over to him, taking a seat himself at the piano in the corner of the room.
“Well then, let’s see what happens,” he said, placing his hands over the keys and starting to play. Richie listened for a few minutes, getting a feel for what Jon was playing and glancing down at the lyrics sheet in front of him. After a few moments, Richie had joined in on the song and paused only briefly every so often to make a note of something on a piece of paper in front of him.

About two hours later, Jon was satisfied with the version of the song they had cranked out. They’d done a couple of rewrites and alterations, and Richie thought the song would be a hit on both country and pop stations. Jon stood from the piano and stretched, yawning widely. He dragged his feet across the room back to where Richie still sat, taking a drink of his water.

“How’s Romeo?” Richie asked, spinning the cap back onto his bottle.
“A boy,” Jon laughed, “Thinks his cast is the coolest thing in the world. How’s Ava?”
”Good, she’s good. She’s getting tall, I swear her legs are nine feet long.”
“I hear you,” Jon laughed, sitting down across from Richie and leaning back on its hind legs. “You get in last night?”
“Yeah. Wrote some stuff on the plane. Headed for Benny’s when I got here.”
”What for?” Jon asked, bringing his chair back down to all fours.
“I like it,” Richie answered, ignoring Jon’s inquiring look, “It’s quiet. I can think.”
”And it's not about the bartender?” Jon finished for him with a somewhat troubled look.
“Well, she’s good. You shoulda heard her last night, man. She really ripped this jackass a new one. Sang a song where the chorus said fuck you over and over,” he laughed.
“You realize you’re nearly twenty-years older than her, right?”
“Woah,” Richie started, raising his hands again, “There’s a big difference between fifty-three and forty-eight. I just like to watch her - hear her - sing.”

Jon was not convinced; Richie had a habit of chasing after younger women. Richie saw the look of concern on Jon’s face, and continued. “That’s it, Jon. I swear. I like her music, not her body. Well, I mean her body isn’t all that bad…it’s actually kind of nice…”

Richie could see that Jon was not amused at his feeble attempt at a joke; Je wasn’t about to stand around and watch Richie dive head first, once again, into something that always spelled trouble for him.

“I’m not an idiot, Jon,” Richie tried again, more serious this time, “She’s thirty-three. I got it. She wouldn’t want an old man like me anyway. She was someone to talk to last night when you weren’t around."

A brief silence followed as both men's minds wandered over all that was going on. Jon was worried, concerned for his friend. Richie deserved everything he wanted and more, and Jon knew it. But Richie tended to want things that were bad for him, and Jon knew that all too well as well. It was Richie who broke the silence in a voice that sounded far away...

"You can’t say she doesn’t make you wanna watch her when she sings though.”