Chapter 15

Joe awoke surrounded by beautiful women. One happened to be sucking him. Cheryl’s eyes glinted mischievously. His dream had reflected reality. And it became a wet dream in reality. “Cheryl!” had been her only warning.

The first shot surprised her. Her mouth separated from his cock in order to swallow so that his cock resembled a geyser. She gamely finished the several spurts left. He pulled her atop him. Sperm breathe meeting morning breath. Neither of them cared, though they kept tongues inside their own mouths.

“I love you,” he said.

She studied his face. She slapped his shoulder hard, but smiled. Gorgeous and adorable. “Fucker,” she muttered, then giggled.

“What’s the plan?” he asked her.

“A date with a photographer. Want to come?”

“Wouldn’t I interfere?”

“I want to know what you think of him.”

“You want me to vet your men?”

“What better way to figure out a dick than another dick?”

“Bitch.”

She giggled.

He suddenly realized his cock must have been coated in dry cum. Not very appealing. “I can’t believe you sucked my dirty cock.”

“I cleaned it. Very carefully. Thought it would be more fun to suck you while you sleep.”

“Did I ... mention any names?”

“Yeah. Freddy. You bi?”

“No. She’s...”

The ladies laughed. “I told her,” said Joanne.

“It was a shock,” Cheryl shrugged. “Not that I minded. Live and let live, right Moe?”

“Whatever,” Moe responded churlishly.

“And this from a girl who’s boy band members went by girl’s names and wore makeup,” Cheryl shook her head. “Anyway, you should go shower with Moe.”

“If you don’t mind?” said Moe frailly.

“Why would I?”

Tall. Slim. Busty. Amazing ass. Gorgeous. What else would he say?

Not to mention she had been and might still be his soulmate.

Getting to get to know her body again, even if it had been only a couple days, but the length didn’t match the significance, became a wonderful voyage of discovery. She seemed to feel the same about him. Despite the sensuality, he didn’t get all that hard. She seemed okay with that.

Early on in the shower she confessed to what had been referred to earlier. Her seeming objection to the possibility he might be bi. “My first boyfriend,” she told him, “figured out he preferred men. I mean I could get him hard eventually. And he fucked me almost as long as you can. But doggy style seemed to be his preferred position. And I even think he feigned cumming unless I blew him of course. But when we broke up, his next girlfriend was a boyfriend. I should have figured it out, but I was young.”

“I’m not, but if I were bi?”

“I wouldn’t like it.”

“Moira?”

“I know.”

He shrugged. “It’s who you are. Strong willed and opinionated. I love the whole package.”

“Me too. I mean I know you want to explore things. And that makes me uneasy. Because it’s dangerous and can lead to terrible pathways. But I love how you absorb things. Study things. It’s like I can’t imagine you ever being bored. Your mind’s too busy. Or too focused. One or the other.”

“Sometimes both,” he admitted. “Like my life somehow. All those girls out there. On the bed. Those women. And my eyes always end up with you. That says something.”

“That I’m interesting?”

“That I’m completely committed to you.”

“Like we’re one soul.”

“Yeah.”

“I feel the same.”

They didn’t kiss. It’s like they were waiting. To have a night alone. To return to where they’d been.

When they emerged from the bathroom, he chuckled at Cheryl busy typing.

“When are we meeting him?”

“In a couple hours,” she said, still typing. “Under the max’s awning. He lives near there.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. Moe sat behind him. Joanne must have borrowed a table, since the usual one had become a desk. Two plates with sandwiches. Cheryl nibbled at hers at the desk. Another club sandwich for him. Vegetarian of course for Moe. Coffee for both of them.

“Where’s Joanne?” he asked.

“She and Nige went to meet up with Eddie.”

“More busking?”

“Yeah. And she got an instore at Tower, last minute.”

“Cool.”

“She’s also going around to clubs. Playing Bob’s tape and leaving them with the live one.”

“I thought that was my job.”

“She’s prettier.”

“True,” he laughed.

“I want to go with you when we meet your photographer,” said Moe.

“Really?”

“It might be easier if I’m Joe’s boyfriend.”

“Wow. Okay.”

“How about we let you work,” he offered. “We can meet at the awning at...”

“Three? Okay.”

Dressing, he discovered clean clothes had become few and far between. Moe grabbed a large plastic bag from the closet. “My summer place has a washer dryer,” she told him.

“Great!” he smiled. “The Cadillac?”

“Still mine.”

“Cool.”

He dropped her off in front of her place and ended up blocks away from it when he finally found a parking space. He never wanted a car in this town. But at least he parked between her place and Max’s. He had begun figuring out the city.

“That far?” she chuckled when she let him in. Joe whipped out the half dozen deep red roses he’d found along the way.

“Joe,” she murmured. She found a decanter to drop them in before turning and kissing him. It all came back.

They had talked about checking to see if Eddie played in Washington Square. Instead they barely made the meeting with Cheryl and her photographer. Lovemaking had never been sweeter. And cuddling. And talking. The most intimate of moments.

“You made it,” said Cheryl, standing beside a tall skinny young man, dressed a lot like Joe. Black slacks instead of khakis. And cool looking pointy Italian boots. Not exactly handsome with his slim face and jutting ears under short dark disheveled hair. But he had presence.

“Todd,” he said, lifting his long slender hand.

Joe shook it. “This is Moira.”

“Moe,” she said, also shaking his hand.

“Come on,” he said, taking off south.

“I thought you’d show her pictures,” Joe said, trying to catch up. Todd had the Manhattan walk. Long fast strides. Like everything in the city had to be fast.

“She wants the negatives,” he said. “And maybe more prints.”

Five blocks later, they ended up in the basement of an old tenement. “The super lets me use this,” he said. “Well, for another hundred bucks.”

He opened some black curtains with his arm to let them enter the squared off area. Some kind of airshaft with a fan inside blew out air when he switched it on. He had a light switch on a wire along a pole which held the curtain rods which actually contacted the ceiling. Not all that high. Joe didn’t have to stoop, but he felt like he should. Todd turned the light on before they entered. Prints dried clipped to a wire. He pulled one down. “Contact sheet.” He gave Cheryl a magnifying glass.

“I see what you mean,” she said. “Okay. Five hundred for the prints and the negatives? Or maybe less?” she pressed back into his groin.

“I ... uh...”

“Whatever you need,” she purred, backing him onto his stool. Her hand lightly stroked the inside of his leg. Her eyes traveled from groin to face.

His big Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed.

“Damn,” he laughed. “Sounds more than fair.”

She handed him some money. “Is it okay if my friends get the prints and the negatives?”

“Of course. I trust you.”

“I trust you, too,” she giggled.

“Uhm. Okay.”

He gave Joe the negative roll, labeled Monsters, and an envelope with prints. “Do you want to look?” he asked.

“You mean at the negatives?” she giggled, her hand making contact with what looked to be a growing cock. “I said I trust you.”

“Let me let you guys out,” he said, and he switched things off and led them back out.

“See you in a little bit,” said Cheryl to Joe, taking Todd’s hand.

“Union Square?” Joe offered.

“Sure.”

Once outside the building, Moe and Joe laughed all the way to the park. He stopped at a convenience store to buy three pops. He figured Cheryl would need some. Fucking seemed unlikely with how much friction he’d given her pussy the night before.

Sitting on a park bench, they people watched and talked.

“She’s nuts,” said Moe.

He shrugged. “She’s my firecracker.”

“Yours?”

“We’ll see. He seems like a nice guy.”

“In an odd sort of way.”

“Odd is interesting, don’t you think?”

“Sure. But...”

“I love her Moira. Just not like I love you. I don’t know if I would react with such ease if it were you with the photographer.”

“Like that would ever happen.”

“Which is maybe part of it. But also the part that’s most unfair.”

“You have other women.”

He laughed. “I imagine you will too.”

“I like sex with women,” she responded contemplatively. “It’s comforting somehow and exciting sometimes. Older women...”

“Like Dorothy.”

“And Bobbie if things hadn’t gotten fucked up. I actually liked her, coke and all. It’s like they appreciate a young body. Appreciate that I just want them to enjoy themselves and enjoy me. Not scoring some star or something, although I guess we did. But they have so many stories. They know things. They have wisdom. They’ve made great mistakes and learned from them. They’ve had great successes and learned from them as well.

“But with cocks its different. More violent maybe. More of an event. The penetration. And they’re pretty useless after they cum.”

They laughed.

“Maybe it’s why it’s easier for women to be with women,” he said. “It’s much more an event when a cock is involved. Sucking a big piece of flesh in your mouth and ass fucking.”

“Please Joe.”

He laughed. “That’s another thing. I know watching women pleasuring women turns me on. It turns probably most men on.”

“But I have absolutely no interest in watching a couple of ... gay men fucking.”

“Don’t be mean, Moira. Don’t be too prejudiced. A couple good friends of mine are faggots. One’s a total flame. But you have to know how difficult it can be for them. With their families. Abuse from fellow students? It’s lucky they, especially Simon, ended up unscathed by my classmates. And what about their parents? It can’t be an easy choice. Nevertheless it’s the choice they made.”

“Because the easy choice isn’t available.”

“Exactly.”

“Ken was my best friend since forever. He moved into the same brownstone as us on the Upper Westside. The first time I saw him, I thought he was so cool. Kind of a miniature hipster. At ten, he already had his style. We went to different schools, but always met up afterwards. He had his schoolmates and I had mine and it’s like we became the catalyst to mesh them together. The leaders of our little gang. So when I started getting sex on my brain, it had to be him. I think it startled him when I showed him my bloody sheet. My menses. Maybe I turned him gay. But my mother explained boys usually become adolescents later, so I became patient. He actually told me when he had his first wet dream. We started messing around from there. Took our time as kids do. I had to eventually steer him to the sexy stuff. Masturbating each other to cumming, outside our clothes mind you, took even longer. But things went a little quicker after that. I began my sixteenth year no longer a virgin. My first time sucking him as well. We remained friends. I think only you have I been as close with. My classmates warned me once I’d done the deed, it would only be about sex with the boy. But I always ended up the instigator. That’s when it became blow jobs and doggy style exclusively. One year. After a fumbled birthday fuck when he couldn’t even get it up, my seventeenth year began with the end of our relationship. My family moved by then to the apartment over by Columbus Circle. The one they have now. So he didn’t have to bump into me. We’d talk on the phone, but less and less, and he never agreed to meet. So the next time I saw him, he actually walked hand in hand with his boyfriend. I was terrible. I called him a faggot. Shouted it actually. He restrained his friend, who looked like a jock. And he just stood there. I finally calmed down and stood in front of him, tears streaming down. Then he walked away. My best friend. Sex did end up fucking up our relationship,” she finished with a chuckle.

“Wow,” he said. “Any way to contact him?”

“Uhm, last I heard he was doing well at the Fashion Institute. I guess that’s no surprise. If he didn’t model, he’d create.”

“I guess he wouldn’t be there now.”

“I know how to contact him.”

“Let’s see if he’s around.”

“Okay.”

“Hey,” said Cheryl, just arriving. Giggling “Thanks” when he handed her a coke. She swirled before she swallowed. “You okay?” she asked Moe, who had teared up, but hadn’t quite cried.

“Reminiscing,” Moe shrugged. “You?”

“Great actually. I think he wanted to fuck me, but we managed without it.”

“I don’t know if I want to know,” said Moe.

“Sixty-nine,” Cheryl informed them. “He’s a pretty decent cunt licker. Not in your class, Joe, but I was distracting him. And I paid him the full five hundred, so maybe not so much a whore.”

“Any future dates?” he asked her.

“No. He was nice but he smelled kind of funny.”

“Chemicals, probably,” he chuckled.

“B.O.”

All three of them laughed.

“You want to head down to Washington Square?” Cheryl asked. “See if Eddie’s busking?”

“Sure,” he said.

“You can walk me down,” said Moe. “I’m going to make a couple phone calls.”

“You want me to come up?”

“No. I’ll meet you at the park whatever happens.”

“Okay.”

She kissed him fully.

“Ah. So you’re back,” said Cheryl, with a twinge of disappointment.

“You’re still my firecracker,” he said.

“I am?”

“Yep.”

“Good to know,” she grinned.

The park ended up fairly packed on a Sunday afternoon. The biggest crowd surrounded a familiar voice. Hand in hand, Cheryl and Joe made their way through. Eddie finished the slow b side song on the single to much applause.

He smiled at Joe and announced, “Thanks guys, but I got to run. Tower Records at seven. I got stuff to sell.”

The audience laughed. Joe noticed a girl sit amidst the band. Beautiful blonde. Shit.

“Hey Joe,” said Rachel. “Small world.”

“Not small enough,” he grumbled quietly, unheard.

“Who’s the hot bitch?” asked Cheryl, making him laugh.

“Not my favorite person,” he told her.

“You fuck her?”

“Yep.”

“Then I gotta meet her.”

Cheryl went right up to Rachel with hand raised. “I’m Cheryl, Joe’s firecracker. What put you on his shitlist?”

“Rachel,” Rachel laughed, accepting the shake. “And I wish I knew.”

“I know what you mean.”

They sat together and talked.

“Hey,” Joe said to Eddie while Eddie put away his guitar after Mary bagged the cash.

“Howdy stranger,” Eddie smirked.

“I heard you might have seen Johnny Thunders last night.”

“Yeah. Talk about charismatic. But fucked up.”

“How so?”

“I mean the band rocked. Johnny was pretty on from what I heard. But almost everything I’d heard before from what, five ten years ago? Man. Junk,” he shook his head.

“So. Good but disappointing?”

“Yeah. Joanne wants to book Irving Plaza where I saw him. It’s a pretty cool venue. Kind of a more traditional concert hall rather than a bar. And I met him.”

“You met Johnny Thunders?”

“Yeah. The strung out chick I was with apparently knew him. Though I don’t think she’s his favorite girl. He basically told her to get the fuck out, but I offered a joint so he let me stay.”

“You told him you’re a rocker?”

“Yeah. Of course he wasn’t impressed. But he got a kick out of remembering playing the fair. I told him it changed my life, and he was actually moved by that. I told him how I changed my name after that. He joked about it being Thunders Junior. I didn’t mention he might have inspired me but I could run rings around his playing.”

“Probably not a good idea.”

“Nope. But the thing is, that simple shit he plays, that he’s been playing since the Dolls? It fucking rocks Joe. He told me last time he was in LA he saw a bunch of kids dressed like the Dolls, make-up and big hair like he used to have, and a couple he saw at the Roxy were stealing his riffs. Those kids treated him like their hero, got him stoned and stuff.”

“Stoned?”

“Pot and cocaine and alcohol at the bar.”

“Right.”

“But it’s weird you know. The way heavy metal is with the show off guitar solos like fucking Steve Howe from Yes but with that hard simple beat, maybe fancy rhythm shifts? But these guys are latching onto the glam stuff. The Dolls and Slade and Kiss and shit. Real fucking basic but showy. I don’t know. It just seems kind of cool to me.”

“Maybe Moira’s old band should rock,” Joe suggested.

Eddie laughed. “I don’t know. That goth shit just doesn’t work for me. They take themselves way too seriously. That’s something Johnny would never do.”

“Or you.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll get all sentimental someday. Get some of those old crooners back singing my song.”

“Tony Bennett’s still at it.”

“Yeah, and Frank, but barely. Speaking of Moe.”

Moe approached them through the crowd, smiling. “You guys want to put your stuff in my apartment?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Eddie grinned.

“Hungry?”

“Starved. Mary wants to check out some Indian food.”

“There’s some good cheap ones in the East Village,” said Moe.

“On fifth street?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

Joe walked with Moe. “So you got a hold of him?”

“Yeah. He’s working on his portfolio. He said he’d come meet us.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. He lives in the West Village with his boyfriend. He’ll just be a few minutes. You mind waiting?”

“Of course not.”

Rachel followed the group up to Moe’s place. “Cool apartment,” she said. “Want to do some lines?”

“No!” Moe shouted. “And who the fuck are you?”

“She’s...” Joe started.

“Rachel Haas,” Rachel said tightly. “Grew up in Hicksville with Eddie and Joe.”

“Are you with her?” Joe asked Eddie.

“Yeah,” he smirked, lighting up a joint.

“Put that away,” said Moe to Rachel who had a cannister for film rolls and seemed to be looking for a place to pour out some if its contents.

“What’s your problem?” Rachel asked her.

“You are. I don’t want that shit in this place, and definitely don’t want you snorting it”

“Fuck this,” Rachel muttered, putting the little container away. “Let’s go Eddie.”

Joe grabbed Eddie’s arm, stopping his exit. “You’re really going to go with that bitch?”

“You got to fuck her. I haven’t,” he said. He handed Joe the joint. “Coming Mary?”

“Uhm...” she hesitated.

“Come on. Or stay. But you’ll miss out on the fun.”

Moe sighed. “You can leave the cello here if you want.”

“Okay,” she said shyly, and left without it.

For a moment the rest of them passed the joint in silence.

“What’s her story?” Moe finally asked.

Joe told her. About her and Belle and her and Miss Shlansky, another Mary, the English teacher, and how Rachel cavalierly fucked over both. And sort of fucked with his relationship with Freddy as well. He decided not to mention Rachel being the worse fuck he ever had, but thought to himself maybe Eddie’s cock would work better for her wide, shallow pussy, and maybe it would let him last longer. And how Rachel might just be the controlling bitch he’d been looking for. He hoped not because unlike Sam or Joanne, he couldn’t imagine Rachel having his interest in mind.

He did mention the last thought out loud, shaking his head.

“At least she’s not angling for you,” Moe spun a positive.

“Her angling didn’t work out,” he responded. “And it couldn’t be anything but physical. I guess I got over her attractiveness pretty quickly.”

“She is pretty hot,” said Nigella.

“Only on the surface,” he said. “Inside she’s ugly, cold and selfish. Completely narcissistic.”

“How do you see Mary fitting into her plans?” Moe asked.

He chuckled darkly, “Quite well actually. She gets two submissives. And she does like girls going down on her. They know their way around. But she’s not keen to return the favor.”

“Not surprising,” Nigella muttered. “You know Mary had Eddie to herself last night.”

“I was wondering about that,” he said, glancing at Cheryl. “It sounded like he didn’t end up with that junkie girl. He told me he got to go backstage and visit with Johnny Thunders, and the girl was persona non grata there. He didn’t say anything about Mary sticking with him.”

“I’m not surprised he didn’t say anything,” said Cheryl. “She’s like his shadow, barely noticeable. But when it was just the three of us, they were kind of sweet together. She’s really bright and can be funny, believe it or not.”

“She stuck with him backstage. Chatted with the other guitarist while he chatted with Johnny. She told me they basically had a quickie when they got to the hotel, and passed out after,” said Nigella.

“Why am I not surprised,” he chuckled.

“I don’t know,” said Nigella. “From how she looked remembering it, it’s just what she needed. Must have been worked up. But they actually had some sweet loving in the morning.”

“That’s good,” he smiled.

“I think she’s ambivalent about that.”

“Kind of like with me and Joe,” said Cheryl. “Not wanting to get too close with the break-up imminent and inescapable.”

“Sounds about right,” Nigella nodded.

“Maybe she’d be ... like the girl in this particular port when Eddie starts touring,” he said.

“That might work for both of them,” said Cheryl. “Occasional friends and fuck buddies.”

“But there’ll probably be groupies.”

“Even better,” Cheryl chuckled. “Mary likes to watch.”

The buzzer sounded and Moe let Ken in. A handsome young man, impeccably styled, from his short, dark hair in a slight pompadour, to his light gray summer suit and deep blue v neck cotton shirt that set off his eyes, and even his burgundy dyed leather slip ons, a mesh revealing bare feet inside. Such careful perfection might be off putting, but his intelligent, somewhat sad eyes lit up when he smiled with a genuineness that made the styling more his obsession and his business than anything suggesting being one up on the next schmo with no clue how to dress.

The v neck allowed some sense of his build and musculature, which looked a lot like Joe’: slim with hidden strength. An inch or two taller than Moe made him average height for a man, but his presence made him seem taller.

The ex-couple stood looking at each other for an uncomfortable moment.

“You look beautiful,” she finally said.

“You do too,” he smiled, showing its substance.

And she did. Look beautiful. She chose to wear her favorite vintage dress, at least a favorite for summer. Cotton that buttoned up the front and seemingly tailored to her curves. A plunging collar to reveal her amazing cleavage, but not excessively. Similarly, it reached just high enough above her knees to show some delightful thigh. Strangely, its color nearly matched his shirt. Which, being a man of fashion, he noticed immediately.

“We match,” he said.

“Of course,” she returned.

Only then did they embrace.

“I’m so sorry Ken for what I said,” she sobbed.

“I have to admit it shocked me, Moira. But maybe I deserved it,”

“How can you say that?”

“We were the closest friends. I should have said ... something.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I was scared to come out to you. Your rejection, except my parents, it was the one I worried about. I wanted to love you the way you wanted me to. The way you loved me entirely. I think I disappointed myself maybe more than I disappointed you.”

“What was it like ... trying?”

“It wasn’t sexy like it needed to be. Everything else ... being with you ... even your body ... I loved everything about you. Just not in the way you needed me to.”

“So you loved my body.”

“Are you kidding? You have an incredible body. And you are incredible.”

“Amen,” Joe said.

They finally broke the embrace. Moe wiped her eyes and chuckled. “Ken, this is Joe, my...”

“Soulmate,” Joe smiled, lifting his hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

Ken shook it. Neither loosely nor too hard. Firm and honest. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Hey, I’m starved,” Cheryl complained.

“Indian?” Moe asked Ken.

“Sounds good,” he chuckled.

After the ladies got introduced, Joe asked, “Should I bring Mary’s cello?”

“It’s just me and Eddie,” said Nigella. “Smaller space and simpler,” she explained. “But you can carry mine.”

“Joe,” said Moe, “Why don’t you get my dad’s car. We can wait for you.”

“Better yet,” he suggested, “Why don’t you and Ken go on ahead. Catch a cab. Maybe get us a table.”

“There’s a bunch of restaurants,” Moe said.

“I like the basement one right in the middle of the block,” Ken suggested.

“Me too,” Moe smiled.

“Then we have a plan,” Joe grinned.

Moe came to him and kissed him. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“I’m glad you’re reconnecting.”

“I’m glad you apologized.”

They chuckled and kissed again.

“Okay, let’s go,” Moe announced and took Ken’s hand.

Nigella and Cheryl waited on Fifth Avenue while Joe did the Manhattan walk, with the occasional jog, to get the car fast.

“About time,” his firecracker giggled. “Shotgun!” she shouted, getting into the passenger seat.

He popped the trunk so Nigella could stash her bass before she climbed into the back seat.

“Holy shit!” Cheryl brayed when they turned onto Fifth Street. “A parking spot!”

And lo and behold they watched a car leave the curb and no one but them would claim the vacated spot. It was weird parallel parking on the left side of the one way, but Joe managed.

Mary stood looking smug just outside his door. “I do good work, hunh?” she smirked.

“What did you do?” he chuckled.

“Told them to hurry the hell up, and then I planned to guard the spot with my life.”

“You didn’t.”

“No I didn’t. Pure dumb luck.”

“I’ll take any luck I can get. I’m glad you’re here, but it’s unexpected.”

“I wanted Indian. Eddie’s starving. And Rachel doesn’t have a clue. I mean about where to eat.”

“About anything else?” Joe chuckled.

“I wouldn’t know. She gave me a perusal. I thought I should stick out my tongue for her to see if it’s long enough. But she’s pretty much setting her hooks into Eddie. Maybe like she planned.”

“How would she know to meet him?” Joe asked. “And how did you know she likes girls pleasuring her.”

“Because Eddie told me so I would stick around. And Randy, the guitarist called the hotel yesterday morning. She’s obviously friends with him since he was the first topic of conversation. She also knew where to meet him, since she got a hotel, which by the way she hates, right on Washington Square Park. We went there first to...”

“Snort?”

“Yeah. You can tell.”

“I can.”

“Really good blow I guess. I’ve only ever done it a couple times. Some ex of hers.”

“No surprise.”

“She’s a slut?”

“She’s a spoiled little rich bitch grabbing all the pleasure she can get with looks and body and her dad’s considerable fortune.”

“Not a fan?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither. We should go in.”

The others had already entered the restaurant. Joe’s group ended up last to arrive. Whoever had been first snared a large round table. Moe saved a seat for Joe next to her, and Cheryl sat on the other side of him. Rachel sat as far away from them as possible, with Eddie beside her of course and Mary beside him. Which put her beside Ken and Nigella between Cheryl and Rachel.

The seating arrangement made a difference because two separate conversations ensued for the most part. Rachel and Eddie, and Rachel brought Nigella into that little group. And the rest of them. It took Joe a little while to suspect Rachel’s strategy, and his suspicions didn’t make him happy.

For whatever reason, Rachel never made a play for Eddie before. Perhaps because she’d been with Belle and Belle told her of his less than stellar performance. Or perhaps he just wasn’t her type, her preferring tall guys like Joe, although with her shallow cunt, that might not have been the wisest choice. Or perhaps she didn’t like the competition of all the groupies or didn’t want to be so low class as to be seen as one, especially since Eddie was just some local phenomenon, more than likely never getting beyond provincial Minneapolis.

But Eddie’s seemingly effortless inroads into the New York market suggested he might actually climb out of the provinces and make himself known to the rest of the world. And his show, with Joe’s, in Chicago, might further attest to his transcendence. Of course these were beginning steps. Who would know if an audience would develop? Joe felt sure it would, but being his best friend made Joe’s opinion biased. Even so, Joe knew Eddie’s undisputable talent as musician and had witnessed his remarkable development as a songwriter. And Joe had seen his best friend’s impact on audiences, people unaware of any of his music becoming fans.