I spent the next couple of hours on the phone, talking to the studio, which luckily was able to put us up. I also snared several of the artists and was able to get a hold of the most key instruments.

Then I went up to the legal department, to pick up the contracts for the individual artists. When I exited the elevator on the top floor, I passed Janice's office, and I waved at her as I tried to find out where the department was located. When she called out to me, I backtracked a few steps and stuck my head around the doorpost, telling her I was in kind of a hurry.

"You can spare a few minutes. Come in," she said, stretching out an arm to a person I hadn't seen when I walked by. "I'd like you to meet Andrew Forester, our vice-president.
A tall man rose from one of the chairs in the ante-office; good grief, were all the Foresters this tall? This guy was as tall as Ross, maybe even taller. He was dressed in a grey suit, which was kinda boring, but he was very nice when he introduced himself. "Hi, nice to meet you," I said, offering him my hand. "Mark Norcross."

"Ah, so this is the infamous Mr. Norcross," Andrew said, shaking my hand.
He squeezed it and I stopped myself just in time before I could yelp; another bone-cracker. What a lovely family.
"I've heard so much about you."

"None of it is true," I answered, offering him a smile.
He returned it warmly, tilting his head.

"I'll be damned," he said after a few seconds, "green and blue, just like he said."
I felt like a cow being weighed and sold.
"Ross told me about that."
I avoided his gaze when he mentioned Ross's name and looked at Janice.

"Right. Ehm... Janice, can you help me out? I'm looking for the legal department."
I looked back at Andrew and offered an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, I don't wanna be rude, but we're in a bit of a hurry here. Because of this deal, we're pretty short on time."
He waved my apology away.

"No, no... please, go on, I have to go anyway. And I know it's short notice, but I'm sure you'll make the deadline. I have every bit of confidence in you. I'm looking forward to hearing what you've made."
He exited the office through a door on the left of Janice's desk. I glanced at a similar door on the right.

"No, he's not here," she spoke, softly.
I smiled sourly.

"Did you talk to him yet?" I asked.
When she shook her head, I felt a bit relieved. At least I wasn't the only one who he hadn't contacted then.

"No. I know Andrew talked to him last night; he just told me. But he didn't tell me where Ross was or what he was doing."
I tried to not let it get to me, that he had taken the time to call his brother, so I pretended not to care.

"Right. So... legal department?"
I guess that sounded a bit short and harsh but I couldn't help myself. Damn him.

"Mark..." she said, giving me a look that said ‘don't be angry'.

"Janice?" I answered, sending her back a ‘sorry, no can do' look.
She sighed and gave me the directions. Then I left her office and went on my way.

**********

I arrived at the studio around noon, a few minutes behind schedule. Already there were several artists inside, tuning their instruments. The rest came in after me. Several of the musicians approached me with notes, scribbled on the sheet music, which I took with me to the mixing booth on the left, where Eric and Joey were already waiting for me. There was no real need for them to be there; their field was individual sounds. Like the clatter of metal you hear, representing weapons in a strategy game? They make those sounds. It's pretty fun to watch them go at it, in an empty studio and with nothing else but pieces of pots, pans, wood, plastic, gravel, wire; you name it, they use it. Or they go outside with a big microphone, catching individual sounds. They resume spanned several games and Eric even worked two movies. Joey had gotten some time in with a TV series which, at the time, was shot near Denver. The reason for them to be here today was pretty much just to assist me; an extra set of ears. With the time being as limited as it was, I could use all I could get.

"Okay, let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Eric grinned, putting on a headset while I sat down at the mixing station.

"Gimme a few minutes," I answered, skimming the notes.
Then I looked up and nodded.
"Alright; let's dance."

The atmosphere in the studio was great when we started the session. The musicians knew the music, suggested a few things here and there, some of it good, some of it not so good, but the overall mood was cheerful and we got a lot of work done in the first two hours. I asked each instrument to be played solo at first, recording each on a separate track, enabling me to play around with it. Then, after those first two hours, the idea was to have all instruments play together and record that. The difference by doing it this way was to enable me to hear the end result before mixing the separate tracks together, and pinpoint several flaws in the grand scheme of things.

"Lose that drum," Joey said, "I heard it before but now I'm sure. It doesn't belong there. It sounds too menacing. We already have a battle theme."
I nodded, realizing the same thing. I spoke through the mike that we'd be taking a break, because I had to rewrite that section. Then, when I swiveled around in my chair to get something from my bag, I froze. There, standing in a darkened corner of the booth, was Ross, leaning casually against the wall.

"Hey boss, we hadn't seen you come in. You been standing there long?" Eric spoke, enthusiastically. "So what do you think?"
Joey greeted him a bit calmer, his eyes quickly flicking from me to Ross and back.

"I like it," Ross said, pushing himself away from the wall. "Just a few minutes."
He had his hands buried deep inside his pockets. He tried to make eye contact.

"Can we talk?" he asked, eying Joey and Eric and making a nod towards the door. ‘In private?"

"I... no, I really can't leave now..." I answered, reaching for my bag.
When I glanced up, he just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"I'm not really asking."

"Ross, I was told that this stuff must ready by five, so you'll just have to wait, alright?" I said a little irritated.
God, his timing was way off.
"I only have like, a few hours left."
He sighed and impatiently combed his hair with a hand.

"This is important."

"So is this."

"Since I'm paying for it, I think you should do as you're told," he replied roughly, "now."
At that he turned and stalked out, slamming the door shut behind him. It stayed silent for a few long seconds and then Joey softly spoke.

"Mark, you better go. This can wait for a few minutes."
I looked at him and he smiled apologetically.
"Now is not the time to get even. I know you're angry with him but he clearly wants to talk to you. Go."

"Wait a minute," Eric suddenly spoke up. "What the hell is going on here? What did just happen, did I miss something?"
I nodded to Joey, who looked at me questioningly while motioning to Eric. Then I pushed myself off from the mixing panel and followed Ross out, while he began explaining a few things to Eric.

CHAPTER *14*

Ross was waiting just outside and as I closed the door behind me, and he took me by the elbow, guiding me down the hall. Dragging was more like it, actually.
He tried two, three rooms in this corridor before he found one not occupied and pulled me inside, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. I walked to the middle of the room, one of the storage rooms for instruments, rubbing the elbow and making a face.

"What the hell was that all..." he started and then sighed, shaking his head. "This is not how I wanted it to go."

"What; playing the "I pay, so you play" speech or manhandling me down the corridor?" I snapped back, shaking my arm.
Damn that elbow hurt. He held up his hands and his voice turned soothing.

"I'm sorry. I just... wanted to see you and talk to you and apologize. I didn‘t expect a warm fuzzy welcome but I think I deserve a little better than ‘you'll just have to wait'."

"What you deserve is absolutely nothing. I deserve an explanation. Jesus Ross, you left without a word. How did you think that would make me feel?"

"I can explain..."

"Cheap!" I cut him off. "And vulgar and stupid; basically a whore, but then without the pay. You got what you wanted and then left. God, if you wanted a one-night stand, you didn't have to take me through that rollercoaster courtship crap. For once I wish I had just gotten screwed and..."

"You shut that verbal diarrhea right now and just listen, alright?" he interrupted, "God, jump to conclusions why don't you?"
He sent me a warning look when I opened my mouth to speak.
"I resent that ‘whore' comment you just made."
I wanted to say something again but he held up a finger and his voice sounded like a whip.
"Silence."
Then he sighed and spread his arms, speaking with a reasoning tone.
"You're angry with me, and part of it is justified, yes, but that was uncalled for and just rude. Can you at least listen to me? Then you may tear my head off, if you still want to."
I crossed my arms, fuming inside.
"Mark?"

"You told me to be silent, so I'm silent," I said, my teeth clenched together.
Childish? Yes, but he wasn't scoring any points right now.

"I know you're upset," he began, stating the obvious.
He bit his lower lip guiltily.

"How perceptive. Someone give this man an award," I said sarcastically, balling my hands into fists.
He came closer but halted when I shot him an angered look.

"Mark, give me a chance here, okay? I might have gone about it all wrong but the reason I left is because I received a call from the Caribbean. My father was on a cruise there and he had collapsed in his room."
He sought my eyes but I avoided the contact.
"They told me it was a close call and that he would be taken to a hospital on the Cayman Islands. I made arrangements to go there, then I went back upstairs, and I admit I was a bit too pre-occupied to think clearly; all I wanted was to get there as fast as I could. I didn't wake you, and I realize that I should have."
He slowly walked over and stopped in front of me.
"I'm really sorry."
I felt pretty silly by now but couldn't entirely let it go.

"And you couldn't find a phone?" I asked, softly. "Two minutes, that's all it would've taken. Two minutes, Ross."
He slipped a finger underneath my chin and forced me to look up.

"Mark... it was hectic. By the time I got there, had everything sorted out for transportation back to England, where my father lives, and had a moment to myself, you guys were on your way back to Denver."

"You could've called me from the plane. And you could have called me at home."

"Yes, I could have. I should have. But I figured that I would talk to you after I came back to the US. So here I am; I landed an hour ago."
Only then did I see that he looked tired and that the suit he wore was wrinkled, probably because of the long flight over here.

"You came straight here, to talk to me?" I asked, feeling pretty dumb.
He smiled and put a hand on my arm, careful as if he expected me to shrug it off. When I didn't he pulled me closer, lowering his head until our noses were an inch apart.

"Well, first I went to the office, because I thought you'd be there, but then I came straight here, yes."

"Cute," I said, "you're being cute."

"Does it work?" he grinned.
I nodded involuntary, not able to stay mad.

"Yeah, it does. I'm sorry, I freaked out."

"No, you made a mountain out of a molehill, without knowing the facts. I probably would have done the same, though. I really am sorry. It won't happen again."

He smiled apologetically and closed the distance between us, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I lifted mine up and let them slip around his neck, tilting my head underneath the pressure of his lips. When he came up for air, he softly smiled.

"So... are we okay now?"
I nodded. He kissed me again and I smirked when he lifted his head and stifled a yawn.

"Oh, thanks, that's a real copliment. Now I'm putting you to sleep?"
He shot me a tired smile.
"Go home, sleep. You look like you need it."
He shook his head slowly.

"No, I want to see you, tonight," he said, tightening his arms around me when I tried to step away. "Nuhuh... I'm not leaving before you say ‘yes'."

"Maybe you should just go home, sleep and just call me when you wake up. How's that sound?"
He gave me a disappointed look.

"You don't want to see me tonight?"

"I didn't say that," I answered, "of course I would; you have some serious making up to do."
But then I remembered something and made a face.
"Bah, I forgot that my mom's coming over tonight. She's gonna help me do laundry... don't ask. So...."
Ross frowned.

"So... and what, I can't see you?"

"Well... Ross, come on. She's my mom..."

"And," he said slowly, "you don't want me to meet her?"
His grey eyes sent me an inscrutable look.

"This is going so fast... we know each other a week. Don't you think that's a bit soon; to meet the parents already?" I asked.
He shrugged.

"It doesn't really matter, now does it? Whether I meet her tonight, a month or a year from now..."
He grinned when I raised an eyebrow at hearing ‘year'.

"Trust me," I said, "you really don't wanna meet her this soon. She's... a hand full."

"Now I definitely want to meet her. Besides, she's not staying the night, is she?"

"No and neither are you," I said, flippantly.
He growled deep in his throat.

"I thought we were past that already."
He emphasized his point by letting a hand of his slide down to my behind.

"Well, we're not. We slept together but that doesn't mean I'm going to clear out any closets yet. You promised me that we'd take it slow..."

"But..." he began.

"Take it or leave it."

"Take it, take it," he said quickly.
It sounded comical.
"But I protest. You can't give it to me one day and not the next."
I could feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks and he snickered.
"So... I'll see you, and your mom, tonight?"
I took a deep breath.

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you, after."

"I'll take my chances. If she's anything like you, how bad can it get?"
I grinned at him; god, if only he knew. If he thought I was a hand full, he was in for a big surprise when he'd meet my mom. Ross finally stepped away, going for the door, and I called out to him.

"Ross, don't you need an address?"
He hit his forehead with his hand and looked around for something. When he apparently didn't find it, he reached inside his jacket and took out a pen. Then he lifted up my arm, rolled up my sleeve and scribbled a number on it.

"That's my cell. Message me the address."
I snickered and he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I don't have a cell phone," I explained.
He rolled his eyes and wrote down another number. He had to do it twice when he made a mistake and my arm was starting to look like a small bible.

"That's my home phone-number. When you call, the housekeeper will probably answer; give her the address."

"Check."
I was the recipient of another kiss, and this one was definitely not of the chaste variety.
Then he quickly exited and when I looked at my watch, I cursed. Damnit... I had only three hours left!