Waiting for the Night [Dalan]

Chapter 8

Martin was used to hiding his wings – it was a necessary skill whenever he was dealing with humans, which was about 90% of the time, apart from his occasional visits to Fletch. Still, they bristled uncomfortably under his coat, and he couldn't wait until he could let them out again and walk in solitude, for just a little while. 

He was also planning to drop by Knox's cafe and say hi to Dave, at least to just convince him that he hadn't gone and jumped off the bridge. He smiled at the concern that the friendly artist had shown him. It had been rather touching, and it was actually nice to meet a human whom he wasn't assigned to. He still had no idea how Dave had been able to see him, but he made up his mind to ask Fletch the next time he saw him.

It had been a hard week for him, just generally 'spying' on the Wilder household and trying to think of an unobtrusive way to get acquainted with Alan. But it was harder than it looked, because the man barely socialised or went out, either staying in with his daughter and housekeeper, or heading out to his studio to get work done. 

It was only during one of his spying jags that Martin found out that Alan was calling the newspaper to place an ad for a guitarist, so he made himself useful and went to buy a second-hand guitar. His skills were a bit rusty, but a few hours of practice were all he needed to get his chords straight.

He found the studio easily enough, heading inside to speak to the security guard, telling him that he was there for an 'interview' of sorts. The guard was eyeing his guitar case warily as he buzzed the intercom, but eventually the man relaxed as the disembodied voice told him to let Martin come up. Navigating the narrow stairs with a bulky guitar case wasn't easy, but Martin managed it somehow, huffing and puffing as he rapped smartly on the black wooden door.

"Coming!" He heard someone yell, and there were running footsteps before the door opened and a tall, bespectacled man was smiling at him. "Hi, you're here about the ad in the paper?"

"Yup." Martin transferred the case to his left hand as he stuck out his right one to the man. "How do you do, I'm Martin."

"Hello, Martin. I'm Flood." The man shook his hand, and Martin instantly realised that 'Flood' was just a nickname as he read the man's details. Mark Ellis, born in 1987, from Bromley, London, music producer, married with 2 children. As Flood showed him around the studio, Martin was impressed by how polished and professional the place looked. 

The walls were painted in a rich burgundy hue, and there was a massive, well-worn white sofa just in front of the studio panel. A few well-thumbed audio magazines were spread out on the coffee table, as well as two unwashed cups of half-drunk tea. Flood grinned in embarrassment as he cleared the table of the cups, gesturing for Martin to sit.

"Sorry about that. Anyway, the Boss will be along in a minute, he's the one who placed the ad so he just wants to have a little chat," Flood told him, and Martin nodded as he made himself comfortable. He picked up one of the magazines and flipped through it, hoping his little ruse as a session guitarist would work. It would be nice to succeed where Simon had failed, where everyone else had failed.

Soon enough, he could hear footsteps coming up the stairs and he kept his eyes on the magazine, pretending to be extremely absorbed in it. There was a jingle of keys, then the door opened and a tall, dark-haired man walked in, taking off his overcoat. 

Martin glanced up quickly; it was definitely the Wilder bloke, but the photograph in Fletch's folder had done him absolutely no justice. The man was stunning in person, his smile warm and disarming. Although Martin had been 'spying' around his house for the past week, this was the first time he was getting a close look at the man himself. He was gorgeous.

Alan glanced at Flood, who nodded quickly and pointed at Martin. "Hello, you must be Martin the guitarist." Alan stuck out a hand, and Martin shook it wordlessly, not bothering to scan his thoughts because he already knew everything about the man. "Sorry to have kept you waiting, I had to send my daughter to school."

"Not at all," Martin said politely, sitting down again as Alan took the opposite armchair.

"Have you worked long as a session musician?" Alan asked, as Flood passed him a copy of Martin's C.V. He flipped through it. "You have quite a number of excellent references."

"Oh, been there and about, really," Martin said modestly, neglecting to mention some of the more famous musicians he had jammed with. He didn't think Alan would quite believe that Martin had played with the likes of Johnny Cash or Stevie Wonder. Instead he had put in some more humble references, enough to make him believable as a respectable session guitarist. "I've played blues, country, indie...even electronica, really, which is actually my passion."

Alan's smile warmed a little. "Mine too. Well, let's see a little of what you can do."

Taking out his guitar, Martin gave it a quick tuning before playing a few quick songs for Alan. It was gratifying to see both Alan and Flood nodding along to the beat, then Flood brought out a CD and told Martin to play along with the main melody and improvise. It was small change for him, and he knew he had gotten the job when he saw the corners of Alan's mouth turn up in a hidden smile.

After a few more songs and a quick chat, Alan stood up. "Well Martin, that was really fantastic. You'll be hearing from me very soon. When are you available to start?"

"Anytime, really," Martin replied as he kept his guitar back inside the case and snapped it closed. "As soon as possible, if you like."

"Good, good." Alan stuck out his hand again. "We look forward to playing with you, Martin."

Martin didn't even need to touch his hand to know he had already gotten the job, but he shook hands anyway. "Thank you, Alan."