Chapter 1

Dean Sims Office

Debra Sims, Dean of Falcon High, was in a real mess. She had been embarrassed almost to tears by the School Board. It was even worse than last year's problems. She felt very lucky to escape with just dirty looks and snears instead of being fired as she undoubtedly deserved. It was just fortunate that they didn't know the whole story.

That handsome but arrogant head of the School Board, Mr. Rostin, had repeatedly slapped that damn chart showing the miserable results of last year's musical review. The bastard had done his homework. Next, he had shown the monetary returns of the last five year's musical reviews. Hell, they weren't much, only a few thousand dollars, in the first three years of the five shown. Then Mr. Rostin had pointed out that the present Dean Sims had used those same figures to justify firing the previous head of the music department for under-performing.

Debra Sims knew the bastard loved his role as the head of the School Board and relished the prospect of firing her. When he had first been elected to the school board he had immediately propositioned her in her office. Her rebuff of his efforts had infuriated him. She was attracted to him, but hadn't wanted him to get close enough to her to find out about Gloria and her relationship to her. He had been trying to get back at her ever since. But, he didn't want to bring it to a vote without proper preparation of the victim. He intended to give her and the rest of the board one last year long look at Debra Sims and her choice of music department head. Two years ago the returns had dropped to a measly four hundred profit after expenses. Then last year disaster had struck. The final tally was a startling fifteen hundred dollar loss.

Then that thundering voice saying 'Why hasn't Miss Diggs been fired for these two miserable performances?'

Of course, she had defended her choice by lying like hell. 'I have chastised Miss Diggs', she had told them, ' and I have been assured that she is now well settled into her new position and ready with an innovative new approach for this year's musical review. You have my word and hers that it will be grand.'

Those simple words, actually lies, had staved off two firings. At least until this new school year's results were known. But if they had known that Miss Gloria Diggs was her neice or that she had been draining off funds from the Musical Reviews to support her for the last three of the five years it took her to graduate, she would not only be fired, she could be prosecuted for embezzlement.

At least, during the last two years, the school district had been paying her niece wages for being head of the music department. That was thanks to Debra's doings, of course. And, she also controlled the accounting for funds from the Musical Review. Her only consolation was that none of the monies had been for her own use. But she had willfully violated the nepotism rules the school district had laid down. The last two miserable musical reviews had been totally the result of her niece's incompetence.

Jesus, she had stolen thousands of dollars to keep her niece Gloria in college after her own sister, Gloria's mother had died. She was the only member of her family left and she was a gifted musician. She could play four or more instruments and sing, but for some reason she couldn't come up with a decent musical theme that would make money for the school.

Now, she was up against it. The school year was about to start. She had scanned the records of the incoming freshman in hopes of recognizing some young talent and had found nothing, which was what she had expected. Then the transfers from other schools were reviewed. She had only found one name out of the whole bunch that tugged at her memory, but she couldn't place it. Hell, a junior transfer with a unique last name. But she hadn't even heard that name in the past several years.

Debra Sims called the only real artist agent she had ever met.

"Carlton Reiner, this is Debra Sims. We met at the Metropolitian Opera house in New York two years ago. I realize that you won't remember me but I thought of you because I have a question about the music industry."

"Well, Debra. Let's see. Sims, Sims, Sims. Yes I have it now. About 5'4", 110, blond, 36-24-36. About forty would be my guess and very attractive. Refused all my suggestive propositions as I recall."

"Well, Carlton, that might have been an error on my part." Error, my ass, he looked like a tennis ball with legs. "But, who knows, maybe we'll meet again some day. However, the reason that I

called you is that you are the most knowledge person in the music industry and I have a musical name I'd like you to help me with. I have a new incoming student with the name of Britzen and it seemed like too much of a coincidence."

"Yes, I think so, too. If the first name is Mark, then he is the only child of Bo and Bonny Britzen. They performed for years and sold a lot of their very original music in the last few years before retiring in France. OK, I share, you share, Debra. I'm very interested. Exactly where is this school where he's enrolling."

"Well, I don't know a lot. But his name is Mark and we're a highschool in Watertown, New York. That's upstate by the way. Looking at his paperwork is confusing. No transcripts at all or references to other schools. He's apparently 17 and according to a certificate in the records he has already passed his GED. Why would he even be going to highschool?"

"Well, Debra, he's the typical child of traveling parents in the music industry. No real home, always on the move in the entertainment circuit. I have no idea though why he would go back to Highschool with a GED under his belt. The rumor was that for the last five or six years, he's been the one who wrote all of their songs and did all of the arrangements himself. The last I heard, by way of a rumor though, was that his parents were asked to ship him anywhere out of France or kindly remove themselves with him. I suppose that is why he's back in the states."

"Is the kid trouble, Carlton?"

"Hard to say for sure. But the last I heard the kid had learned to outfrench the french. And, apparently with some of the wrong young ladies. Now that says a lot for France. There, young girls are usually just considered prey for older men. But to return to the essence of the subject boy, why would you care about him. Give, Debra."