Chapter 27

Early rehearsal Wednesday, or as early as possible with people working. About 5. 7:30 Eddie and company had to leave for sound check at Sam’s, the soon to be renamed 7^th Street Entry. A dress rehearsal with stutters, mostly between scenes with lighting set-up and cues. Sometimes, especially towards the end, they just barreled through. It was the kind of dress rehearsal that supposedly meant luck, maybe because things can only get better. However, in the tight schedule at the place of performance, Joe realized Simon, the general of his little army of tech people, along with Freddy as his lieutenant, were the heroes.

“We should reward them for spending so much extra time and pulling things together as well as they have,” he told Constance after the rehearsal, watching them make adjustments with their army.

“I agree,” she smiled slyly.

Morpheus was still essentially an amateur company. They would have ticket sales for the six performances, Friday and Saturday nights, Sunday matinees for two weekends, but tickets were cheap, and Joe had no idea how many they would sell. Maybe enough to pay rent for the space, or recoup the money they already paid. Anything remained would go to Joanne for advertising expenses. Printing fliers. Mail. Ads in the two local weeklies and the two major newspapers and in the University of Minnesota’s Daily. Any money beyond that Joe had no clue what would be done with.

Joanne did. She had an accountant on her small staff, a whiz at making sense of the non-profit art world’s expenses, and Joanne had involved this numbers genius in Morpheus. All receipts went to this quiet blonde woman who looked younger than her mid-twenties age and defined average in her features: height and shape and face. Joe had probably seen her at Joanne’s office but hadn’t noticed. Joanne had to introduce Sally to him when she came to watch the final rehearsal. Her shy smile made her prettier. She would be collecting money for the shows. Directly accounting for what they took in. And wanted to see the entire play, which working in the ticket office would not have allowed.

Advertising wasn’t entirely an expense. Somehow Joanne had gotten one of the scenes on the local public television. Timing could have better for other things, what with both her and Joe in New York. But they’d make up for that for the second weekend. A feature in the Minneapolis Star Tribune Sunday arts section about both the high school play going to the Southern and Constance’s involvement would hopefully generate audiences. Reviews would help if they were positive. Every reviewer would be invited. Aside from the television broadcast, only an appearance on public radio of Joe and Constance on Thursday would happen before the first performance.

But the expenses they did need and the ticket sales to offset them never involved Joe. That would be Sally, Joanne’s accountant’s, exclusive purview. Only if they actually gained profit beyond expenses would he be involved. To decide any split for him and his performers and technicians. Something he hadn’t even thought about. Except when seeing how hard Simon and Freddy worked. Maybe a little guilt in that. Or a lot.

“I don’t know how much that should be,” he told Constance regarding any reward for Simon and Freddy.

“Let me, or Jonathon, take care of it,” she winked. “I do have experience in giving the kind of reward that can show talented people the sort of appreciation they both deserve and to keep them part of the company.”

“Meaning for you?”

“And for you, dear boy. For your plays.”

“Plays? I just have one. Another, but that’s a one off one act for Red Eye, and this Jennifer says she’s interested in directing the full length.”

“Someone else directing your play?”

“Another perspective. A playwright can’t help but lose his, being so inside the text.”

“I don’t see that. I just see your vision.”

“Probably because you collaborated. And Freddy was there at the beginning of my writing it, merciless in her criticism.”

“And you have no Freddy for this new play?”

“No. Jennifer would be the first with a totally new perspective. From a highly seasoned professional. And I’ve been told or warned she would be far more merciless than Freddy could ever be. Shaping it to her vision. Changing it, maybe fundamentally.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t know. We’re meeting on Monday. She said she’d see the show this weekend. To meet me, because we’ve only talked on the phone. And maybe to see what I do with my language, though the full length is quite a bit different. A lot more realistic.”

“You know your language already is deceptively real.”

“I guess I mean the setting,” he shrugged.

Constance had arrived with Caroline to the rehearsal. They had spent the night together, platonically Constance informed Joe. As if he might be jealous, which seemed weird. Perhaps being emphatic about it had been for herself. He could never be exclusive for her, but she seemed to want to be exclusive with him. Her one and only master. She wanted that clear, it seemed. Only he could fulfill her need, sexually and maybe socially, though she looked utterly relaxed in Caroline’s company. And the sexual ended up looking to be an occasional thing. Something already hinted at in the past when Constance would call Joanne, in need of her husband. Horny. Just once in a while. Monthly. When she ovulated. Like some sort of animal thing. Being in heat. Joanne and Joe only realized the timing when he told her about Constance’s intense neediness in relationship to her being the most liable to become pregnant, and Joanne remembered every other instance to be around her own monthlies. It made him wonder if his supposed exclusive gigolo status would end with Constance’s pregnancy.

He didn’t quite ask her about her possible lack of interest in sex. More hinted at it. His conversation with Joanne fresh in his mind, during the morning when they talked business. When he worked on proposals and editing grant requests Joanne had left him the evening before. Which he dropped off at her office once done, since Cheryl and he would be downtown sizing her rings and picking up her wedding band and heading to City Hall to reserve a judge for their wedding and getting the paperwork for it.

“We have a couple hours before Eddie’s show,” he told Constance. “Enough time for you to be thoroughly punished.”

She chuckled. “Have I been a bad girl? No Joe, I think Cheryl is far needier for your attention. But of course it’s up to you to decide to punish me.”

“Is it?” he laughed. He noticed her lack of need. He also agreed with her that Cheryl needed him. Cheryl wanted to fuck him as soon as they left city hall. Probably before. But rehearsal prevented it. Delayed it.

“Cheryl?” Joe went to his fiancé. She’d been recruited into the army by Freddy, but he noticed her frequent glances. “Ready?”

“More than ready,” she said.

Once in the car she opened his fly and sucked him. She didn’t care if anyone was around in the parking lot, or maybe she did. There weren’t very many. An occasional driver getting into his or her car or parking and getting out. No one all that close.

She insisted after their errands downtown that they made a quick stop at home. Even with her horniness, she knew they couldn’t dawdle. However, in the car, it made sense why she wanted to change. She decided on a skirt, and she soon shed her panties and climbed on the cock she just made hard. Their positon, her in his lap. He undid her shirt and she undid his. She did not wear a bra, probably for the same reason she wore a skirt. His fingers made her pinkish brown nipples hard as they kissed and fucked. His hands moved to her ass under her skirt, pulling her down onto him. His lips, tongue and teeth took over the nipple manipulation. She came quicker than usual, and harder, pulling his mouth from her breast to kiss him even though she gasped in their oral embrace.

“Joe,” she murmured, looking at him, lovingly and still needy.

“I know,” he said.

He looked around the parking lot. No one there. She lifted off his hardness. They got out, shirts still opened, his cock still jutting out from pants he pulled up and buttoned, and hurried into the back seat.

“Make me naked, Joe,” she said, laying on the seat. He removed the skirt and the shirt. She removed his shirt. He pushed his pants off with his feet. They looked at their nakedness. She guided him back inside her, her legs pulling him deep. He didn’t know if his Dart rocked. He actually made smooth thrusts inside her to prevent it. But in the end, when his urge left him bereft of thought, it probably did rock. Although not for that long. Fast, urgent thrusts. High and hard. They made her cum too, which didn’t always happen. Usually not as quick as his urgency came. But her need for him was greater than it had ever been, even that first time alone with her. And his was for her. Their shared orgasm felt as cosmic as when they were tripping.

“Did you feel that?” he murmured as they caught their breath.

“Yes. The big bang,” she giggled.

Lifting his head, he caught a couple furtively glancing at them before getting into their car just across the lane from them. “I guess we got noticed.” he told her. “A couple.”

“Perhaps we inspired them to be naughty,” she smirked and pulled him down for a long kiss. Her hips lifted, pressing their groins together, keeping his dwindling penis inside. It actually stopped dwindling. He started thrusting shallowly. “Fuck Joe, again?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Fuck no.”

Again smooth strokes kept the car from rocking obviously. And when they somehow turned over, she continued the trend. He loved watching her incredible tits bounce, and with her low angle, the nipples gently scraped his chest. She did lift up to check things, one time giggling and lowering quickly. It was a really long fuck. They had the windows open, but it did get hot. They enjoyed it, getting hot and sweaty. And it wasn’t even all that energetic. They were truly making love. The climax didn’t matter. And in fact it never came when they decided to end it.

“You want me to suck you off?” she asked.

“I’m good.”

“You’re better than good,” she giggled.

“And you’re the best,” he returned.

She decided to ignore him. And he got her pussy to play with. Going deep into her throat three times lured his cum out. After, he kept her from getting up and made sure she got hers as well. Only then did they share the flavors of their sex juices. Kisses with tongues.

“We should probably go,” she said. “And I sure could use a drink.”

“Not the best flavor, semen,” he said.

“No, but it’s worth it.”

“Thanks.”

“Back at you,” she grinned.

They managed to dress in the confines of the back seat. Another couple caught them get out of the back and into the front. Cheryl giggled and waved at them.

They stopped at a 7-11 for her to get fountain pop for them. For her mostly, but he’d sweated a lot and could use the cold drink.

“Here,” she said, handing him a packaged rectangular object.

“What’s this?”

“An energy bar,” she giggled. “I think I tapped yours out. Mine too,” she added, opening hers and biting into the sweet, nutty, oaty concoction.

At Joanne’s they showered together, helping clean each other’s sweaty bodies and sticky genitalia. An occasionally kiss on warm wet skin had to do, but the intimacy of washing her hair did get him hard again. Well, that and her amazing tits and ass, the latter rubbing against his hardness. What she found made her giggle.

He dressed in his usual uniform: white button down shirt, short sleeved, and khakis. Her shorts, khaki cargo, matched his pants. She wore a cool yellow Cramps t-shirt over her bra covered breasts.

“Eat,” said Joanne when they came downstairs. She had stayed at home during the rehearsal and made delicious breaded pork, mashed potatoes and corn and had heated it. They rushed through the meal.

She drove her Buick downtown with Joe sitting shotgun. He needed the room for his knees. Constance stayed home to look after the kids. The guest list got them into the crowded club for free, Cheryl getting in on Joe’s plus one. The noise of some shitty punk band greeted them. Nevertheless young men pogoed close to the stage with too much enthusiasm. Luckily they came at the end of the set.

Lori, the dark haired woman he’d met at Jack’s studio, surprised him by hugging him, her unencumbered breasts under a Flamingos t-shirt pressing into his diaphragm.

“Uhm hi,” he shouted over the in-between music, not as loud as the band had been, but still loud. “You remember Cheryl, my fiancé?”

Whatever embarrassment Lori might have felt, if any, ended when Cheryl embraced her, breasts against breasts, and whispered into her ear, causing Lori to laugh and shake her head. “I’m practically married,” he managed to hear from her.

“So’s Joe,” Cheryl shrugged showing Lori her new engagement ring. “And that never stopped him.”

More laughter, another head shake, and an almost shy glance up at him.

Joanne had disappeared downstairs, the club’s backstage. She emerged with Caroline, ahead of a videographer Joe recognized from his recording his play and the Monsters. The band followed, with girlfriends, and with another videographer trailing behind. Joanne went to the sound guy while his friends set up.

“Wow, they do look different,” Lori shouted. “Cute guys and interesting girls.”

“And Eddie,” he laughed.

Rachel came to him, with a glaring glance at Lori. More competition, even if there wasn’t any. “Who’s this,” she asked him rudely.

“Lori, meet Rachel.”

“Hi,” said Lori, smiling.

“Harumph,” Rachel frowned and went off to stand close to the stage with Sam. Freddy was there as well, along with Simon, Simone, Marsha, Bruce and Tim, Linda, Jerimiah and some high school helpers. Claire, Belle’s lover and roommate stood farther back, close to Joe. They nodded to each other. He wondered about the mosh pit and saw the punks that had been there had moved back, giving that space up to his cast and crew.

“We’re recording this,” Eddie said into his mic. “So be nice. Or not. Whatever. Just be your fucking selves.”

He started with the upbeat song on the first single. It amazed Joe how many people sang along. Midway through Eddie did the fucked up bit. Collapsing as if utterly wasted. It went over well. He did look like he’d had a few lines and drank a few gulps of the hard stuff. But like he had at Tower in New York, it only seemed to fan his intensity. And his belligerent banter in between.

For instance: “This one’s about the biggest cunt I ever met. Hi babe,” he waved at Rachel.

Joe stifled his agreeing chuckle, but grinned and shook his head.

The set ended with the b side of the first single. The first song for the encore was No Contest, which Eddie followed up with a really long blues. The one about his girl, and he focused on Sam.

It pissed off the dedicated punks. But the rest of the audience loved it. Fucking brilliant solo. And both Belle and Nigella got theirs, Nigella’s nearly as great as Eddie’s. She’d switched to her acoustic/electric bass, which seemed to work best for her soloing. And Eddie took over again, somehow even more brilliant. He kept going when the lights went up, to the boos of the audience. Only when he was rudely unplugged did it end.

“Fuck,” Joe said, applauding madly.

“Yeah,” said Lori, equally moved.

After that, they got unceremoniously kicked out of the club.

“He’s going to be big,” said Lori, who’d remained by Joe’s side, Cheryl occupying his other side.

“Yeah,” he said, still moved.

“You want to fuck Eddie or come home with us?” Cheryl asked her.

Lori snorted her laugh. “He does have a sexual presence.”

“Makes you juicy,” Cheryl agreed. “Although I seem to be immune. Not that my panties aren’t damp. But that’s all Joe.”

“Back at you, babe,” he said, leaning down for a kiss.

When it ended, he caught Lori checking out his package. Lumpy but not fully hard.

“Uhm,” she said.

“Where do you live?” Cheryl asked her.

“Uptown. Near Lunds.”

“Feel like walking?”

It was a beautiful late summer night. Just a slight cool breeze, but nothing uncomfortable. Balmy.

“Sure,” she smiled.

“I’ll try to get in and let Joanne know,” Joe said.

He actually knew the bouncer from playing the club a couple times. More importantly, the bouncer recognized Joe. When Joe approached him, he nodded and let Joe slide past him. Joanne was with the videographers putting their stuff away. Before Joe went to her, he noticed Rachel with a punk girl. Blackened hair. Metal in her nose and abundantly in her ear. Reminded Joe of Moe. Kept glancing at Eddie, busy helping the band pack up, with Sam playing roadie nearby, but also glancing appreciatively at the beautiful angelic looking predator.

Joe interrupted Joanne. “Cheryl and I decided to walk home.”

Joanne nodded. “I’m probably going to check out the video at Russ’s. But ... maybe I could see you later?”

He hugged her and kissed her and squeezed her butt. A hand also came along inside, sweeping across her pussy. She shivered.

“Nigel?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Going home with her dad.” Joe had seen the smaller older black man looking incongruous in the young white bread audience, standing near the side of the stage Nigella played. He seemed to dig it, especially the ending. “I’d prefer...”

“I’ll be there,” he grumbled quietly. “Even if it interrupts things.”

“Joe. I...”

He embraced her again, and whispered, “You may be tasting a whole new flavor. You hear me, you get in position. Ready to suck me. Ready to be fucked. Understood?”

“Yes Joe,” she murmured.

“Good girl,” he kissed her cheek, tapped her ass, with the other hand once more discretely passing over her pussy, feeling even warmer and damper, even through her jeans. She shivered again and moaned quietly. Only for him to hear.

“Ready?” Cheryl asked him, glancing at his crotch revealing his excitement. “I guess you are,” she pinched the lump. “Though it seems Lori forgot to mention she has a car.”

“Too bad,” he said. “Where’s it parked?” he asked Lori.

“Over off Glenwood where it’s free,” Lori told him.

“So you could leave it?”

“I could.”

“I can drive you to it later.”

“Joe...”

“I know,” he said. “But it’s a beautiful night.”

“It is. Okay.”

“Great.”

He took her hand and Cheryl’s and they began to walk through downtown. It was late, but some of the bars had a few patrons still lingering out front. Especially the low key gay bar with no signage. Last minute hook ups.

“Tell me about the masks,” Lori started.

“The demons?” Joe asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re coming to my show.”

“I plan to.”

“Come to the Sunday matinee. I’ll introduce you to Constance. See how you get along. Although she tends to be nervous.”

“Not around you Joe,” said Cheryl.

“True.”

“You’re planning on going to her place?”

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s as needy as she was. And I bet she’ll want to show Caroline the manse before Caroline heads back to Chicago.”

“That makes sense.”

He nodded. “I thought we could go out there. Freddy and Simon as well. I’d like them to hear the music. See her drawings.”

“Get things started.”

“Yes.”

“Where is this place?” Lori asked.

“A few miles south of the Cities,” he told her. “We’d probably stay there overnight.”

“That actually wouldn’t be a problem. I haven’t taken a sick day in months.”

“What’s your interest?” Cheryl asked her.

“What do you mean? I like doing art. The embellished masks. The project I’m working with Jack on. This series of postcards. Like dreams. These things I think up. It’s ... personal. My own little thing. Doing something like my masks for a set? It’s like I’d open that little world up.”

“I get that,” Cheryl said. “Being impelled to be creative without anything except its accomplishment as a reward. I mean I write. I get published. But it’s definitely not to get rich,” she laughed. “Few artists get back what they put in, at least monetarily. Not that what I do is art. It’s a skill I guess, I happen to be good at. But that’s not why we do it, is it? We like putting our uniqueness out there and hope others might appreciate it. Or even being satisfied to put into the world what you imagine. The lucky few have the talent or the luck or both to actually make a living at it. Even fewer get rich. I think we agree Eddie could very well be one of those. And Joe’s going to make sure of that, aren’t you Joe?”

“Yep. Me and Joanne.”

“And Joe’s going to be one of those. Not jumping into the fire and exploding and having a whole ton of people wanting to watch, which is what Eddie does. No, Joe’s will be a much more gradual exposure to the masses, as he learns and practices and hones his craft into a fine thing that ever greater numbers of people will want. Unfortunately, a lot more people buy records than buy novels, so his brilliance will never be as appreciated quantitatively as Eddie’s, even if he shines as bright or brighter.”

“You really think that?” he asked Cheryl.

“Yes. Don’t you?”

“It’s what I hope.”

“I think it’s more than that, Joe. I think it’s what you see.”

“You have to be confident.”

“Especially if it’s deserved. Everything I’ve read of yours, even your earliest poems, are great, or at least have a greatness to them. And you keep getting better. Like your one-act, though derived from the full length, I think is the better play. Not that the full length isn’t great. In a way that’s why I’m ambivalent about your novel. About you not concentrating on it. On one hand, maybe you should set it aside for another play, so that you improve your skills that much more when you return to it. And the mulling we joked about can only make things better. On the other hand, maybe you should get it done so that the next improves on the first. I bet you already have an inkling about the next one already.”

“I do actually. About my mom and Eddie’s mom being friends during the rebellious times of the beats and the hippies and them marrying two men who become insufferably conservative and them feeling trapped until they achieve their freedom with violent consequences.”

“That sounds ambitious,” said Cheryl. “Taking on the female perspectives.”

“Yeah. And lots of research during those times. The late fifties and the sixties.”

“So you’ve been published,” Lori asked Cheryl.

“Yeah. And Joe will be too. His poems have been accepted at a couple places. No surprise. Me, I’ve been writing articles about rock, about punk, since I was in high school. I’ve been published in the Reader, the Village Voice, and NME. I’m hoping a story I’ve been working on about Eddie and the Monsters will be published by Rolling Stone.”

“Wow. You seem so young.”

“It’s a young one’s game, if you want to get to the heart of it I think. Although I’m younger than I look.”

“Take off your glasses, Cheryl,” he requested.

When she did, Lori practically gasped. “You’re really cute.”

“My curse,” Cheryl shrugged, putting them back on.

“Not to me,” he said.

“Because you’re a dickhead.”

“No. That’s about your sexy body. My dick takes over my head every time I get to gaze at it. When it’s your face, I’m an aesthete.”

“That’s weirdly sweet,” said Lori.

“He is,” Cheryl giggled. “So, Lori, you didn’t really answer my question. What I meant was, what’s your interest in Joe?”

“Uhm.”

“Don’t worry, Lori,” he chuckled. “Cheryl isn’t being defensive.”

“I’m not?” asked Cheryl.

“Nope.”

“I’m not. Just curious.”

“Like a good journalist should be,” he quipped.

“I’m just confused. You make sure we know you have a boyfriend. You even wore his band’s shirt when you knew you’d see Joe. And yet here you are, where you’ve been since we arrived at the club. Beside Joe.”

“She has a thing for bassists,” he joked again.

“Yeah. I heard that one. But you’re not much of a bassist.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean you’re not a bassist anymore. When you were, you were fine. It’s just Eddie needed more than fine.”

“And he got Nigella.”

“That woman was amazing,” said Lori.

“She’s one of the greatest bassists in the world,” he said. “Kind of slumming it with a rock band. But she loves Eddie’s music. And he respects her. If he’s smart, he’ll let her do her thing on the side. I know she’s been working on stuff, though I’ve never heard it. I bet whatever she puts out on her own won’t be anything any fans of the Monsters will expect.”

“At heart, she’s a jazz bassist,” said Cheryl. “And more avant-garde than anything traditional.”

“I think it won’t be the bleep-honk of what one expects from avant-garde jazz,” Joe said. “Something altogether more composed. Maybe more akin to fusion, though without the macho showiness. Whatever it will be, it will be unique and interesting and beautiful. Of that I’m certain.”

“So?” Cheryl put out.

“Okay,” Lori sighed. “I don’t actually know. I’m ... attracted to Joe. Right off the bat. I guess I’m as confused as you are.”

“How is your relationship with... ?”

“Ted. Good, I thought.”

“Where is he?” he asked.

“Touring. Just in the Upper Midwest. Duluth. Morehead. Madison. Milwaukee. Chicago. Des Moines. He calls almost daily sometime after he knows I’m home from work. It’s been a disappointment, mostly. Duluth had a decent crowd. But other places didn’t know them. They’re touring behind their debut album. Both Milwaukee and Chicago should be better, only because they’ll be opening in front of more popular local bands. So there will be audiences. And they’re good enough not to be booed off the stage.”

“His disappointment?” he asked.

“Yeah. He can get whiny sometimes. Not his best character trait. I manage to improve his attitude, although today I just didn’t have my heart in it. I think he might have thought I was on my period,” she chuckled.

“Does he know the timing?” asked Cheryl.

“I don’t know. It always seems to surprise him. ‘Already?’ he’s said more than once. But it’ll be coming soon. Maybe a week?”

“He’s a musician,” said Cheryl.

“I don’t know. He’s pretty into me. He ignores the groupies when I’m at his shows. Even the hotter sluts. And he’s not the singer or lead guitarist. But he is cute and tall.”

“Not just bassists then,” Cheryl chuckled.

Lori shook her head and grinned. “He’s shorter than Joe. Maybe six feet? And almost a pretty boy like those two brothers in Eddie’s band.”

“While Joe here’s funnier looking,” Cheryl smirked.

“More handsome I think. More mature looking. And he does have that nose.”

“It’s suggestive of other large things,” Cheryl giggled.

“Don’t tease me,” Lori complained, but within a laugh.

“Ah, so that’s it. Taller men and their taller cocks.”

“It does have its appeal,” Lori blushed.

“Oh believe me, Joe’s is quite appealing.”

“You really aren’t jealous,” Lori said, amazed.

“Nope. I enjoy it when Joe displays his talent. Not as much as enjoying it myself. But ganging up on him, seeing how excited he gets when subdued by more than one woman he finds sexy, that can be quite stimulating.”

Joe kept to himself Cheryl’s preference for one-on-one, perhaps selfishly. He was attracted to Lori.

“You don’t mince words,” Lori commented.

“What’s the point?” Cheryl asked.

“It’s just not very...”

“ ... Midwestern? All that fucking Lutheran repression? No thanks.”

“You weren’t always so forthcoming were you?” Joe asked Cheryl.

“I’ve never been shy, Joe,” Cheryl shook her head. “Maybe nerdy or studious, but never shy. You mean about all those assholes who had no clue how to make me cum until I met you? First off, I didn’t know any better. I thought men just got to enjoy it more than women. Even though I had the urge, for company maybe more than for sex, but my body craved that too. I just thought I’d be stuck being disappointed.”

“Sex wasn’t important to you?” Lori asked.

“I’ve never been boy crazy. Until now.”

“Joe...”

“Makes me horny pretty much all the time.”

“Back at you, babe,” Joe said.

“But not just Joe. I fuck around too, though no one ever does to me what Joe does. Not even close. It’s so much deeper with Joe. And I’m not just talking about his wonderfully long cock. And the thing is, the other men I’ve fucked since meeting Joe have done so much better than the ones before. Perhaps because I expect it to be better.”

“I agree,” Joe said.

“You guys are weird,” said Lori.

“Definitely a unique relationship,” he agreed.

“The thing is, with Joe,” Cheryl explained, “I can’t imagine him being monogamous. Why force him to be what he can’t be? What good would it do me? Absolutely nothing good. I’d lose him.”