Color Blind

Chapter Thirty-Three

AN: Pearl Jam's 'Why Go'.

And if I may, a moment of silence for Scott Weiland, vocalist of Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver, who passed a few days back. Without his music, this book may not have turned out the way it did. Many thanks, and sympathies to his family and friends.

* * *

It took Cole a week to get over his cold, and in that time he had to put up with being touched at least once a day, and often twice. He didn't like the feeling of someone's hand on his head. The head was a sensitive part of the body, as he'd learned only too well over the years.

He really did appreciate Nancy's looking after him. He wasn't so sure how to say this, either. He'd tried to say thank you, but she'd brushed him off. He wasn't sure what he should do.

She wasn't home right now, fortunately. He was lying on his bed, rather worn out from his multiple trips to the laundry room, when he realized he was smiling. Why was he smiling?

Nancy?

Yes. Yes, that was it. This was a strange feeling, being happy over someone who wasn't even here right now.

He was still thinking about that when the phone rang. It scared him and he rolled off the bed, cursing and flailing around to try to get the blankets off. He was immensely grateful that Nancy wasn't here to see this.

He found the phone in the kitchen. Hopefully it wouldn't die or anything mid-conversation.

"Hello?"

Please be a telemarketer, please be a telemarketer.

It was not a telemarketer.

"Cole Martin?"

Who was this? Who knew his name? It wasn't Sean, but he didn't know anyone else who would be looking for him.

"Yeah?"

"This is Alfred Snow." Who? "From the coffee shop? I bought a couple of your pictures last week."

Oh. The guy had a name? He'd have to try to remember it. Maybe he'd write it down.

"Yeah."

"Did I wake you up?"

"No! No. I was awake already. Just...um...yeah. What'd you need?"

Real smooth. He was a regular badass.

"I have a man here who wants to buy the ones I have, so I'll need more. Can I place an order or will you just surprise me?"

The ground swayed and he slumped against the counter. That wasn't enough support and he ended up on the ground.

"Um...what'd you have in mind, exactly? I can try to work with that."

"Maybe something to do with the shop." the man said. Was he foreign? Cole thought he heard a bit of an accent, but he couldn't be sure. "Coffee, maybe some music-we get some live acts in here every weekend, you know-things like that."

"I might be able to do that."

"Great. When will you be done, and how much do you want for royalties from the others?"

God! He needed a finance book or something.

"Um..."

Alfred, sensing he was floundering, spoke again.

"How about sixty-five percent?"

"Sure." He had no idea if that was good or not. He'd have to go to the library soon. "Thanks."