Author's Note: Well guys, my (angel422's) sister and her baby are now doing fine. Now I am just waiting for them to put my other sister in the hospital this week so I can do it all over again (sigh). Here is another update. This story is really coming together well. Please R&R and let us know what you think. And thank you so much for all of your well wishes concerning my nephew. They were truly and utterly appreciated. Love all of you guys! Smiles and hugs. Enjoy. Angel422 and Undiscovered91.

Tommy…

Jude Harrison was talking to Georgia when Tommy first noticed her presence and their gazes locked as he nodded in her general direction—noting the ire in her eyes as she turned away. It was only a matter of time now—a matter of piecing together the song that would take her to the top and that would ultimately define his studio--decide her fate as his artist. He knew she was capable of it—knew she was destined to be an icon. He almost snickered as he watched Jude twirl her hair around a finger absently before biting on the end of one of her fingernails, and he smiled. Everyone has a 'tell'—a habit that lets you know when they are feeling uncomfortable under scrutiny. It was what allowed you to call someone's bluff and Tom was good at that.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, Byron." Tommy stated simply in a low tone before nodding at the man he had been conversing with and moving away with purpose—watching as Jude's eyes narrowed upon his approach. He was prepared for that—prepared for the fact that she wouldn't be happy about being sent here. No, she was the kind of girl that liked making decisions about her career on her own—not being manipulated like a chess pawn. Tom had to bite his lip to keep from saying 'checkmate' out loud. Such a good impression that would make.

"Well, Jude Harrison, I'm glad to see you've made it to our fine studio and it's a pleasure to see you among us. I hope we manage to impress you over the next couple of weeks." Tommy called out as he neared the pair. Georgia raised an eyebrow up at him as she pretended to scratch under her nose daintily. That was Georgia's 'tell' for 'I'm warning you, Tom…' Tommy just smiled sweetly. He had no intentions of stepping on Harrison's toes. Obviously, Jude wasn't quite so timid when it came to damaging feet herself.

"I'm sure I'll be thoroughly impressed, Mr. Quincy." Jude replied vaguely as she swept the room suddenly with her hand.

"I'm guessing, or assuming really, that you have a producer assigned to me—a place to record maybe?" Jude asked sincerely as Tommy shrugged. He was impressed with her need to start working. It said a lot about her fortitude—her ambition and determination.

"I'll be producing you, Ms. Harrison." Tommy commented with an emphasis on the 'Ms.' as he gestured toward an empty studio to his right. He had it prepared and modified to his needs, and he was as antsy as she was about getting to work. He did have a time limit—a statute of limitations to this bet of his. Jude just gazed first at the studio and then back at him with a look of surprise and uncertainty.

"Um…no offense, but do you happen to have someone else…I don't know…more familiar with my genre of music, maybe?" Jude asked as Georgia coughed to cover up a laugh when Tommy looked over at Jude in disbelief. She had not just questioned his musical ability, had she?

"I can assure you, Harrison, that I am perfectly capable of ensuring your genre of music. Would you like me to demonstrate?" Tommy asked mildly as Jude grinned. The fleeting but catty smile made Tommy's heart beat faster all of a sudden as she turned from artist into imp with incredible alacrity, and Tommy almost swore. What the hell was wrong with him?

"No, that's quite alright. I'm sure I'll train you well on the matter." Jude proclaimed as Tommy chuckled suddenly in amazement. She would what? He clenched his teeth together as he pointed once again at the studio—using every ounce of self-control he had to keep from snapping.

"I'm sure we'll be an asset to each other. No doubt we'll both learn a lot." Tommy finally conceded as Jude shrugged before suddenly grabbing his hand—letting her fingers rest in his palm gently as she lifted up the sleeve of his leather jacket. Tom hadn't expected the contact, and he flinched.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tommy asked while Jude pursed her lips in thoughtful concentration before dropping his arm quickly as if satisfied about something.

"Just checking to see if you had any aces hidden up your sleeve." Jude replied stoically as Georgia burst into laughter from behind her. Tom narrowed his eyes. Aces be damned. He had an entire stack of cards.

Jude…

I was more satisfied with the arrangements Quincy had made than I let on—mostly because the studio he led me into was state of the art—the equipment impeccable and I was just…well impressed. He really seemed determined to work with me—to devote the time to helping me make music. Who else could say that the owner of their studio was reverting back to his producing days just to work with a new…well possible…new artist?

"You seem impressed, Harrison, so I am going to assume that you are more than satisfied?" Tommy asked mildly as I just shook my head. It was never smart to assume anything. I just shrugged nonchalantly.

"It'll do." I remarked with a small frown as Tommy tried hiding a smile behind a sudden false sneeze. We both seemed determined to dance around each other warily. Why? I'm not sure. There was just something about him that made me antsy—made little tingles transverse my spine and my body and that unnerved me—made me thoroughly uncomfortable. He seemed affected by it too although neither one of us really knew each other outside what we had read in the media.

"I'm glad it'll do." Tommy finally replied calmly as he assessed my stance knowingly. I just threw him a look as I realized he was waiting for me to take a seat in the studio. Boy, he didn't waste time. Grabbing a hold of the guitar I had carried in with me earlier, I made my way over to a stool in the center of the room before displaying the instrument across my knees as Tommy headed into the sound room—peering at me through the soundproof glass as he fiddled with a few buttons. I could tell he was comfortable around sound equipment, and I grinned. I certainly couldn't see Darius in a sound room. He wasn't about to degrade himself enough to do that—to do manual labor. The fact that Tommy didn't seem to mind taking a more hands on approach was kind of sexy. Oh my God! Had I just been thinking he was sexy? Damn, I had! My gaze swept over him silently as I took in a deep breath. The man was hot, no doubt about it, but it wasn't something I needed to dwell on. I leaned over toward the mic.

"Would you like me to play something old or maybe start fiddling with some new ideas?" I asked breathlessly—berating myself for the gaspy tone that left my mouth. Tom didn't seem to notice. He barely even looked up as he reached for the intercom button.

"I think you should work on something new. It's been a while since you've had something new out." Tommy pointed out almost carefully as I nodded. He was right. I just wasn't at that level of creativity right now. No, my mind was blocked. So I just sat there. Tom looked up.

"Anything the matter?" He asked through the intercom slowly as I just shook my head. His gaze took in my movement skeptically.

"I just don't have any ideas to work with right now." I replied honestly as Tommy sighed before standing up and making his way through the door that separated us.

"Then maybe it's time we gave you something to work with." He remarked as he motioned for me to follow him. He was temporarily my boss for now so I did the only thing I could do. I followed him. Although, I did feel unease creep over me as he led me out to his car before opening the door for me—closing it behind me once I entered before taking his own place behind the wheel. Where the hell were we going? Silence ensued. This was definitely a different ball game than G Major. We didn't take field trips where I came from. We didn't say anything to each other as he backed out of the lot, and I stared with astonishment at the establishment we came up on about twenty minutes later.

"You have got to be kidding me." I replied in amazement as Tommy grinned. We were at a beatnik joint—a place where depressed poets got up on stage wearing berets and spouting out sad prose as everyone else in the place snapped their fingers as if 'in jive' with the moment. I almost laughed as Tommy walked over to the door of the building and held it open for me. This was…um…definitely different from working with Darius. The interior of the place was filled with smoking artists sipping on drinks or on coffee, and I took the seat at a table near the back of the room as Tommy pulled out a chair for me before taking the seat across from mine.

"Now." He remarked steadfastly as he indicated the stage. "You watch and learn." He finished quietly as I stared at him with an agape jaw.

"Learn what? How to take prozac?" I asked sardonically as Tommy laughed. He seemed amused by my reaction.

"No, now you observe. You must realize that observation creates art. It gives artists inspiration—gives Da Vinci his Mona Lisa, Beethoven his ninth symphony, Charles Dickens his Oliver Twist. Sometimes when we get stuck—we can write about something other than ourselves. We can write about people we don't know—people we watch quietly from the sidelines." Tommy answered me quietly as I just stared at him. Damn, he was made for producing. His statement suddenly brought to mind that time I had to do damage control at an elementary school. He had been there—leaning against the back wall watching me that day too (scouting I'm sure) as I stuck my foot in my mouth when a little girl asked me about my music. It had been the way he shook his head at my reply that day that made me feel guilty enough to go back to the school, and I hadn't even known Tom Quincy back then—just his face. I still wasn't sure I knew the man much better now. A person made her way up to the stage quietly as a man with long hair and earrings introduced the poet, and the young auburn haired woman that had ascended the stage nodded before leaning toward the mic.

"The world is like a desert." The girl said slowly as she paused when the audience snapped. Tom snapped with them as I raised a brow. He seemed amused by the whole thing.

"Barren—unforgivable—a place that shuns our attempt to get a drink of water." The girl continued on more animatedly as the crowd snapped again.

"Our dry lips crack as we struggle through the sands toward mirages…" The girl stated breathlessly as she closed her eyes. Everyone snapped again. Tommy leaned over toward me.

"Snap, Jude. Forget you're an established artist for a moment and look at the people around you—look at the tortured girl on the stage—at the couple fighting at the bar. At the girl slipping the male bartender her number, at the lovers making out in the corner. Music isn't always about just you." Tommy almost whispered as my heart jumped when his finger suddenly tilted my chin up—moving my face in the directions he had indicated. It was as if my body was suddenly on fire. This wasn't smart Harrison. I was not attracted to Tom Quincy. I needed to write that down on a piece of paper a hundred times somewhere. I was not attracted to Tom Quincy. He was my boss for heaven's sake—at least for now. I closed my mind off to everything but what Tommy had said, and I started to look around—really look around. I saw a young teenager—ragged and lean. Probably a runaway and I suddenly thought of that book Jane Eyre that I had been forced to read in High School about a poor orphan. What Tommy was saying finally clicked in my brain. Tom nodded as he noticed the gleam that entered my eyes.

"That's it, Jude. That's precisely it." He murmured as our gazes suddenly locked. I was not attracted to my boss. I just wasn't. Right?