youreyes3 Disclaimer: Same as before, Jonathan's not mine.
Please keep reading and reviewing if you don't mind. This part is a lot more fun. Some objectable language. :-)

"Your eyes," I sing softly. "As we said our goodbyes….can't get them out of my mind." I close my eyes and for a minute, the beauty of the song takes me over. I think of how I sat in Santa Fe, truly alone for the first time in my life, although I had thought I was alone so many times before. I remember how the thoughts of Mimi got my through the few weeks I spent there, how so much in New Mexico reminded me of New York in the weirdest ways. I remember how Mimi's beauty called me home. "Where there's moonlight, I see your eyes."
"Ok, Roger, this is sounding pretty good," Eric calls to me from behind the glass window. "I'm just thinking that it sounds a little too melancholy. Maybe you can get more of an edge in it?" Edge? This song doesn't HAVE edge, it's not supposed to have edge.
"You mean you want me to kill it?" I ask calmly. I smile and Eric stares.
"I wouldn't consider it that," he says.
"I would," I reply with a sarcastic grin.
"Look, Roger, I know they're your songs. But it's my label, and I want this album to sell for you. So, uh, what I say at least gets a try." I feel my fists clench at my sides and I start over.
"Your EYES, when we said our good-by-eye-eyes, I can't get them OUT of my MIND," my voice is harsh, rough, growling.
"Roger, cut the shit and sing the song," Eric says, not even bothering to look up
"I tried that already, YOU didn't like it," I say. I shrug my shoulders. "I can't sing it any other way."
"Well, you're gonna have to."
"Do you know what it's like to lose the one person who completed everything you were? Do you know what it's like to have to be alone, living a life full of reminders, needing her more than ever, but knowing you'll never have her again? Do you KNOW what it's like to finally reach your dream because of her, and then have to keep going on without her? Do you KNOW what it's LIKE to have some fuckin' money-hungry prick telling you that the song YOU wrote about HER, the song that brings EVERYTHING about her back to you, is not RIGHT because it's not going to sell records?" I ask. At this point, I'm out in the control room and my face has found its way into Eric's. "Do you?"
"No, Roger," he says. His eyes meet mine and for a second we stand there, staring at each other and I finally break away.
"I didn't think so," I say coldly. "Now, I'm going in there and I'm singing that song the way it is meant to be sung. If you don't like it, you don't have to put it on the album. I'm not sure you're worth a song like this as it is." I storm back into the recording room. I stand in front of the boom mike and sing it the way I sang it at Mimi's funeral, barely able to contain myself toward the end. Missing her and dealing with the fact that this song is becoming material more than emotional, it got to me. I finished the song strong though, looked up and saw Eric nod slightly.
"Ok, that's a wrap."

"Ok, the letter for this round is…" I roll the big die and it tumbles off the table onto the floor. "E!"
"Oh, good Lord, that letter is impossible!" Joanne exclaims, pushing up her reading glasses and looking down at her notepad. Collins sets the timer and the four of us start to scribble furiously. Maureen is done in less then a minute with a satisfied grin on her face, and I finish up as the timer ends.
"Shit…" Collins mutters under his breath, still scribbling.
"Collins, honey, time's up!" Maureen reminds him.
"Yeah, yeah," he says, reluctantly putting his pencil down.
"Ok, first one," Joanne says seriously. "Boys name. I put down Evan. Maureen?"
"Ebeneezer! As in Scrooge," she says with a smile.
"Ok, Mark?"
"Eamon," I say, remembering my younger cousin who I was really close to growing up.
"I like that one. Collins?"
"I…uh…I couldn't think of one," he says quickly.
"Right. Ok, number two. Street name. I had Elizabeth Dr., on which I grew up in Greenwich," Joanne explains. "Maureen?"
"Eighth Avenue. As in New York City," she says sweetly. I roll my eyes as Joanne looks at me.
"Easy Street!" I exclaim with a smile. She and Maureen crack up.
"That's great! Collins?"
"I…uh…I don't know what's wrong with me tonight…" I put my face in his and laugh unmercifully. He grabs a pillow and covers his face with it.
"Oh, let me be! I hate the letter E!" he cries.
"Ooh, Collins that rhymes! You're a poet and don't know it!" Maureen exclaims. Collins lifts the pillow from his face and shoves at Maureen.
"Hey! HEY!" she shrieks, running from the couch. Collins jumps to his feet and chases her around the loft, her high soprano shrieking, his bass voice bellowing. I look at Joanne and we crack up.
"What the hell is going on in here?" a rough voice asks. I look around to see Roger. We had been having so much fun, no one noticed he had entered the room.
"Hey, Roger, what's up?" Maureen asks. Collins is stopped behind her, pillow just above her head. He is trying his hardest not to laugh.
"Not too much. Seems like everyone's having fun," he says with a slight smile.
"We're playing Scattergories," I say carefully. "Feel free to join us, I'm sure you'll do better than Collins."
"Maybe later, I've had a long day at the studio. I just want to sit down a bit," he says, starting into his room.
"Yeah, how'd that go?" I call after him.
"Alright! The guy's a fuck, but other than that, I think I sounded good," he calls back. He shuts the door to the room and then opens it again, emerging in a pair of jean cut-offs and no shirt. Maureen purrs at him.
"Pookie…" Joanne warns.
"Maureen, you're a lesbian," Collins gently reminds her. "If anyone should be purring at that hunk of man, it should be me!" Maureen grabs the pillow from his grasp and whacks him over the head with it.
"Ow!" Collins whimpers. He walks back over to the couch and sits himself down next to me. "Be my protector," he whispers in my ear. I laugh out loud and push him toward Joanne.
"Oh, thanks!" Roger stalks toward us, slugging milk from the carton. He wipes his lips and sits down on the other side of me. "So, what's with this game?"
"You've never played it?" I ask incredulously.
"Nope," he says, picking up one of the question cards. "Four letter words? That should be easy! Fuck, shit, cock, dick, tush…"
"TUSH?" Collins asks.
"Yes, I heard it in a furniture commercial," Roger explains. "As in 'soft as a baby's tush'".
"Collins, throw me the pillow!" I say.
"Roge, you're in a good mood today," Maureen observes as Roger dodges the incoming pillow.
"You know what, I am," he replies. "I am, because I stood up for myself today and it didn't include any bloodshed."
"What happened?" Joanne asks, the lawyer in her picking up on any possible case.
"This asswipe, Eric, he wanted me to change 'Your Eyes'. And I told him I can't do it. And I made him believe I can't change it. And I told him that the song isn't even worth getting him money. And he let me do it the way I wanted to."
"What did he want you to do?" Collins ask.
"Add edge. I told him no. It's Mimi. The song is Mimi. Killing that song is like killing everything she is to me. I told him no."
"Well, good for you Roger," Maureen says with a smile. "I can't wait to hear this album, I really can't."
"Well, the hardest part is over. It'll all be easy from here on in." Roger grins and takes another swig from the milk carton. He grabs the die and rolls it. "K!" Collins moans.
"NO…NOT K!"