[ CW ] ReNov1 Janny Thunder Meets `` The Doctor ''

`` This is your third visit, Mr. Thunder. Anything I can do for you?'' 
 
 Janus eyed the girl behind the counter. He was tempted to ask for inspiration. Maybe he should ask for a quicky in the back. She looked old enough... 
 
 `` Just another go with that guitar please.'' 
 
 The cashier nodded and pulled a key out of the register. She walked with a sway, the subtle motion Janus knew too well. Brook used to walk that way for him. At the back of Rouble's Strings and Things she handed him the Gibson Flying V. He fiddled with the tuning, unsure of what to do next. 
 
 `` Start with a chord progression'' said a man's voice from nearby. Janus spotted the voice's source behind the racks of amplifiers and assorted speakers. 
 
 He was n't short exactly. More small than short, thought Janus. The man's spotted dome, and thick glasses assured Janus'the man who made keytar sexy' was not the oldest man in the room. Janus began to play. 
 
 He fumbled a bit, at first. His hands still remembered the feel of a keyboard beneath them from that morning's recording session, but they warmed up to the strings readily enough. Janus played the scale faster. The little callus on each fingertip itched a bit, then felt comfortably numb. Janus played. 
 
 The old man nodded in time to the scale. `` Not bad,'' he said, `` not great though. Your grip needs help. You wrap your wrist too tightly. Loosen up. Ah, much better.'' 
 
 Janus stopped playing and stared at the old man. `` You know, I do n't need your lessons,'' 
 
 The old man shrugged. `` Help is wasted on the helpless. That guitar is no longer for sale.'' 
 
 Shocked, Janus stared at the man. `` Do you know who I am?'' 
 
 The man shrugged. `` A customer. Do you know who I am?'' 
 
 Janus suppressed the urge to put his fist through the old man's face. 
 
 `` He's the store's owner'' whispered the cashier. Both men glared at her. She scurried back to the front desk, her sway forgotten. 
 
 `` How much do you want for it?'' demanded Janus. 
 
 The old man tapped his chin, seeming to consider the petulant pop star's offer. `` Nothing. It's not for sale.'' 
 
 Janus felt his cheeks flush. `` I take it you've never heard of Libertine Belle?'' 
 
 The old man nodded. `` The solo halfway through *Trials of the Hierophant* is legendary. Their lead singer is a ponce though.'' 
 
 Janus tightened his grip on the guitar's frets. He had written that solo. Dreamed the whole song actually, recorded it in one go. So simple. So haunting. 
 
 Janus argued with the geezer. The more Rouble's owner insulted him, the more certain Janus became he would get his way. It was simple: He wanted the guitar. Janus Thunder always had his way. As the situation escalated, Janus bit down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He tasted salt, and a trickle ran down his chin. His rage cracked, then crumbled, then turned to despair. 
 
 `` I'm sorry son, you're just not right for that guitar. It's nothing against you personally. I just ca n't sell it to you.'' With that, the old man gently took the Flying V from Janus's hands and went into the store's back room. By force of will, Janus left the store without putting his foot through an amp. 
 
 Hands stuffed into his pockets, the rock star stalked down Florida Avenue. He passed palm trees and shop fronts. He passed what he assumed to be a portable toilet for policemen. He passed the park where the mime had been the day before. He saw a homeless man with his dog, both parked on a bench. The dog growled as Janus passed. `` Bad, bad dog. Behave Wolf,'' grunted the hobo. 
 
 The rest of his walk was uneventful. Unfortunately that gave him plenty of time to brood. No price tag, yet the old man let customers try it out? A custom checker pattern? Janus had offered ludicrous amounts of money. He needed that Flying V, if he was ever going to win Brook back. The Flying V was her favorite from Gibson. She'd asked him to someday buy her one early on in their relationship. Things had moved so fast then: So many venues, parties, odd jobs between shows. If only Janus could turn back the clock. 
 
 The guitar would work. He would go back after the next day's recording session, and the next day, and the next day. As many times as it took to make Brook love him again. 
 
 When Janus arrived at his villa just outside the orange groves, he found the house empty. Brook's clothes were gone. Worse still, the picture of Janus and Brook lay face down on the nightstand beside their empty bed.
