"You can't play like you're angry," he said (and Nick found it weird, coming from the guitarist of a rock sensation). "You can be angry with the world, but you can't treat her with that anger." Paul rested a hand on the youth's shoulder, smiled with meaning. "The music will set you free; it's not an outlet - it's a window. You need to open up, not plug in."

Sometimes the old guitarist's advice made no sense to him. After years with Bradshaw, conversations concise, blunt, rough. There was no guessing. But Paul spoke like he'd been wrapped in a world of rage, too - though he made it sound so far off, so long ago, that he could barely remember the place, had been somewhere so much better since.

If he listened, could parse the meaning of the flowery words and the humming strings, maybe he could get there, too.

Nick, Paul and Art (c) J. "Rehgan" Fitzmaurice