Chapter 12

The master bathroom had been redone when both Joe and Cheryl had bestsellers a couple years before. A bigger tub with whirlpool jets. Room for four there and in the enclosed shower that had water spraying from all kinds of different angles. There for the first time Joe and his three wives showered together. It had been a whirlwind romance times four to be sure for Liang since Friday afternoon. Joe and his wives. Essie. As many she had been loved by, that’s how many times better the sex had been than any time before in her admittedly limited experience. But however incredible the sex had been, the people delivering it to her and her in turn giving it right back had been just as incredible in other ways. Beauty of course, especially Essie, and handsome as far as Joe went. Conversations though, comfortable, remarkably diverse, witty, compelling, fascinating, had been the clincher. More than anything else, they made her feel like she fit in. That she had found her family. She hadn’t been invited to be the wife to Joe and Cheryl and Moe. She just was. Every reminder that she had been included in this most unique and crazy and wonderful family gave her a thrill.

“I really do love you guys,” she said, as she and her wives and husband washed each other.

Cheryl giggled. Moe gave her a kiss. Joe pronounced, “We know, and we love you just as much. Clear?”

“Yes Joe,” she chuckled.

“If you need a reminder,” Moe said. “Feel free to express it. But we know how we feel about each other, and about you. We see it and feel it every time we’re together.”

“In other words, it doesn’t need to be said,” Liang grinned.

“It’s a crutch,” Joe said. “A way to get the other to say he or she loves you. An insecurity. Take it as a fact, Liang. But I know sometimes I feel it so profoundly, I just have to say it.”

“I understand. And it was one of those moments.”

They laughed.

“You and Rachel seemed to have gotten close,” said Moe.

“Literally,” Cheryl giggled.

“I think she’s a better person than she thinks she is. Maybe being invited to your bed shocked her out of her defenses. Of course I haven’t known her long at all, and haven’t seen her at her worst.”

“You have to understand it’s been a long history of cutting remarks and one-upmanship,” said Moe. “She’s been an unpleasant person ever since I’ve known her. In fact last night may have been the first time I’ve spent in her presence where she didn’t have to have the last word, usually an insulting one.”

“She’s different with me,” said Joe. “When it’s just me and Eddie.”

“With men,” said Cheryl, “she takes a different tack. A seduction. Maybe more a game. But she always plays to win.”

“Maybe to defend herself from losing,” Liang countered.

“She always seemed to like her games,” Joe said. “But I’ve always been different for her. Because I’m not willing to play.”

“You frustrate her,” said Liang.

“To say the least,” Joe chuckled.

“She’s wanted Joe ever since he told her to fuck herself,” said Cheryl. “It’s been her begging and him saying no since I’ve known them. Wasn’t it her going after Eddie to get to you, Joe?”

“Yeah. I thought it a match made in hell, what with her manipulations and his submissiveness. It turned out a perfect fit.”

“In every way,” Cheryl giggled.

“The physical thing actually had a lot to do with it actually. Because they enjoyed each other. With sex, but also with drugs and partying. She wasn’t after Eddie to control him like I feared. Like he let Sam control him. They found the perfect party partner in each other. Never taking life or themselves seriously, until eventually and inevitably they did.”

“But she’s controlling him now,” said Moe. “She’s his manager.”

“Because Joanne fucked up. And probably because she had been an adviser to him. But the point is, she didn’t take over for ten years.”

“True,” said Moe.

They’d finished their shower and dried and started dressing, Liang getting panties and bra and a robe from her bag, while they continued talking.

“Do you think she was a different person Joe,” Liang asked, “because you finally invited her to your bed?”

“Makes sense,” said Joe. “But it was also because you were there. Like you had said before, she’s a lonely woman, with really only Eddie as a close friend. And she found out you could be another.”

“I like that thought,” Liang smiled.

“Come on,” said Moe. “Let’s go down and find us a couple cool outfits for the day.” Moe had also put on a robe over her panties and bra.

“Sounds like fun,” Liang grinned.

“Remember our appointment at noon,” Joe said to Moe.

“Yes Joe.”

“Of course,” Joe chuckled.

Both Joe and Cheryl dressed casually in what was available in the bedroom. For Joe that meant a non-fitted button shirt and khakis, his uniform for years. Cheryl went with jeans, a t shirt and a light blue cashmere buttoned sweater which she left unbuttoned.

In the kitchen, Joe realized they needed to go shopping. “I’ll go,” Essie volunteered. She’d been there when Joe and Cheryl came down, dressed like Cheryl except wearing a knitted cream colored pullover sweater.

“Just a dozen mixed bagels,” Joe said, pulling out his wallet.

“And a variety of cream cheese,” Cheryl added. “Thanks sweetie.”

“Scott’s supposed to be here soon,” Essie shrugged and darted off, fifty dollars richer, stopping to toss on a red leather jacket from the entryway closet. Both Scott and Eddie ended up approaching the door as she exited. “Trevor still here?” Essie asked Eddie.

“Better run,” Eddie chuckled, and she did, just catching Trevor and his limo.

“Scott’s here,” Eddie yelled when he got in the door.

“The kids,” Joe frowned.

“They’re not up?”

“They probably are now,” Joe chuckled.

“I’ll check on them,” said Moe, emerging from the closet with Liang, both looking beautiful in vintage gowns. Moe’s from the fifties, light beige, with a conservative bodice and a long soft skirt, but fitted to her, it ended up sexy. Liang’s looked like it came from a much older time, but the red dress had been revisionist in the sixties.

“Scott, this is Liang,” Joe introduced them.

“You look familiar,” the handsome older gay man responded.

“I’m the receptionist at Joe’s publishing house.”

“I remember.”

“You can call me Li.”

“You’ll be seeing quite a bit of her, Scott.”

“Oh?”

“I moved in!” Liang grinned.

“Well that’s...”

“ ... Joe!” Cheryl giggled, pulling Scott down enough to give him a kiss on his cheek.

Eddie met Rachel as she stepped from the elevator, passing and nodding at Moe.

“Did you... ?” she asked.

“Yeah. I still love you babe.”

“I did too. I mean I slept with Joe.”

“Really?”

“We didn’t fuck Eddie. I guess you need to be there. But I had a good time. If you’d come home, you could have joined us.”

“You and Joe?”

“Joe invited me to his bed.”

“With... ?”

“Yeah.”

“That was nice of him.”

“It was.”

“You okay?”

“I don’t know what I am,” she shrugged. “Shall we go buy a house?”

“Yes please.”

They walked side by side to the kitchen, not holding hands.

“You guys ready?” Joe asked.

“Yeah,” said Eddie.

“Fine,” said Rachel, lowering her head.

“I just told Scott we’re a little low on food. Esther just went out to get some bagels, but...”

“I should probably get this done,” said Scott.

“Let me just grab a coffee,” said Rachel.

Essie had brewed a carafe full when she’d come down first.

“Bring the mug,” said Joe, grabbing his own.

“Sure.”

“How are we doing this?” Scott asked.

Rachel lifted a soft leather attache case. “I’ll write a check.”

“Corporate Eddie.”

“Yeah. We’ll be building a studio in the basement.”

“Works for me.”

“Before we go,” said Joe, “I’m thinking of asking Harvey if maybe we could rent a couple rooms from him in the attic. For offices.”

“For me?” Rachel asked.

“And Liang.”

“I’m sure Harvey won’t mind,” Eddie chuckled.

“Probably not,” Rachel blushed.

“What’s that about?” Scott asked.

“You probably don’t want to know,” Cheryl advised.

“Probably not,” Scott chuckled.

“So what happens?” Rachel asked.

“We’ll transfer the title. Take it downtown. We’ll need to stop at an insurance company that I trust if that’s okay?”

“I have no problem with that,” Rachel said. “You seem like the trustworthy sort.”

“Need I remind you I’m a lawyer?”

They laughed.

“He did negotiate Eddie’s label and publishing contracts,” Cheryl told her. “With me and Joanne. Eddie was there, but...”

“Joe told me I could trust him to do right by me,” Eddie shrugged.

“He sure did,” Rachel said. “You really do great work Scott.”

“Whatever my clients need. They pay me.”

“I think it’s more than that.”

Scott shrugged. “We should go. Unfortunately I need to meet another client later this morning.”

“You sure you have time?” Cheryl asked.

“Registering the deed’s the only thing that could cause problems. I know a judge who could make sure your presence would be enough if it comes to that.”

“Something about licensing?”

“Yeah. Some clerks can be assholes. Probably kickback or some shit. It won’t be a problem if I’m there. We’ll make it work.”

“I know,” Cheryl grinned. “Let’s get going then.”

Harvey stood on his stoop sipping coffee. He wore a heavy peacoat. It was a brisk morning, the sun just starting to light up a cloudy sky.

“Hey cutie,” said Rachel, coming up to him and kissing his cheek.

“Hey gorgeous. Always a sight for sore eyes,” he grinned. Neither Cheryl nor Joe had seen him happier. Or happy. “Come on in. You Scott?”

“Yes sir.”

“Harvey’s fine.”

They followed him to the elevator. An old Otis. They went up to his attic lodging. Mouse, the gray calico walked over to Rachel when she exited the elevator and pushed her head against Rachel’s leg. Rachel scratched behind her ears.

“I knew Mouse would like you,” Harvey chuckled. “She’s got impeccable taste.”

“Cat’s like me,” said Rachel. “Dogs on the other hand. I guess they recognize ... never mind.”

“What?” asked Harvey.

“Nothing,” she smiled.

Harvey led them to an office where Moe’s was located in the adjacent townhouse. A little smaller. Joe noticed a couple closed doors where his office and Cheryl’s would have been. The storage half of the attic in Joe’s house had been turned into a cozy living room with a fireplace. Joe thought the door past the office might be Harvey’s bedroom. The smaller office would have given it more room. And the corner would have brought in some light.

“Not a lot of room,” Harvey said. “And just a couple chairs.”

“Sit Rachel,” said Scott. “I’ll be fine standing.”

“Me too,” said Cheryl.

“Mind if I look around?” Joe asked.

“Sure.”

“Those rooms across the hall?”

“Kids’ rooms. Haven’t done anything with them in years.”

“Can I look at them?”

“Knock yourself out.”

As Joe left, he heard Harvey say, “All the stuff you need should be right here on the desk. I used to own a couple other apartment buildings until it got to be too much trouble.”

“Great,” said Scott.

The rooms looked to be a little larger than Joe’s and Cheryl’s. Joe’s was the smaller office, and so was the one in its spot. It had a window that looked at a brick air shaft. Moe had the same thing, but had just put up a vent there with a fan. Nothing to look at.

The rooms were like a sad time capsule. Both had twin sized beds, made and dusty. Posters on the walls revealed the younger brother liked dead rock stars. Probably a coincidence. Joe imagined the room had been abandoned by the time Jimi, Janis and Jim had died. He noticed Janis’s was the one where her nipple could be seen within beaded necklaces. The older brother seemed to be into folk music. Peter Paul and Mary. The Kingston Trio in their matching striped shirts. Joan Baez. Judy Collins. No Dylan. No Guthrie. The kid liked his music smooth. The posters were signed.

The books in the matching shelves showed both brothers liked Science Fiction, but the older preferred the hard science stuff. Asimov’s Foundation trilogy. While the younger one preferred the wilder speculative stuff. Heinlein. He found Delores’s most famous book there. The Lord of the Rings was in the older brother’s room. Dune in the younger brother’s. The younger one seemed to have a complete Hardy Boys collection on the bottom shelf. Perhaps given to him by his brother.

Satisfied, Joe walked across the hall and poked his head into Harvey’s bedroom. Queen sized bed. Made. A couple of landscapes on the walls. Wyeth. He had a picture of his wife by his side of the bed. It was sadder than the time capsules.

Joe headed to the living room to look at possibilities for the storage space. It had a feminine quality. A quilt draped over the couch and a throw pillow at the end. A lamp stand stood near it, with a table attached at the middle. A book rested on it. He chuckled when he saw it was the last of his trilogy. A homey old comfortable looking armchair sat near. Both faced the fireplace. The armchair had a delicate and pretty doily atop it.

A kitchen shared the space, with a divider that could serve as a table the separator. The large Persian rug, probably the most expensive thing in the place, covering most of the living room, stopped at the parquet flooring of the kitchen. Small but efficient, every space not taken by oven, dishwasher, sink and refrigerator, all a couple decades old or more, had solidly built cabinetry, including the divider. The only bathroom in the attic sat between the kitchen and the younger kid’s room. Toilet. Sink. Shower/bath. Storage under the sink and across from it with a built in cabinet. Efficient.

The transaction finished, Joe moved to the door as Scott, Cheryl and Eddie exited it. Joe entered as Rachel and Harvey stood, Harvey admiring Rachel’s curves. She’d worn a nice wrap around dress for him that showed cleavage and legs and hugged the curves between.

“Harvey, I have a big favor to ask you,” Joe asked.

“Go ahead.”

“We haven’t really discussed it, but I’m hoping Eddie will share his new acquisition with my family.”

“That’s the plan, Joe,” said Eddie. “Rachel and I actually walked the space. Harvey too. We’re thinking your kids should have their own rooms.”

“I agree,” Joe said.

“We’re thinking of opening up the main floor to be the kids’ wing. Put the playroom there and change their present one back to a dining room. That’s what it was, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Essie and her mom and Ella could have the kids’ rooms. Three rooms instead of four. Charlie could have a room here.”

“Or we could change the attic storage room into his. Maybe make a studio out of it for dancing. Even rehearsals.”

“That’s good Joe,” Eddie nodded. “He’d love that.”

“Yeah. And the second floor?”

“Tony and Laura,” said Cheryl.

“Tony’s done construction. Laura’s an interior designer,” said Eddie.

“I heard that about her,” Joe laughed. “So they get their space and alter ours.”

“Exactly.”

“And you?”

“Basement. Studio. Living quarters. Maybe expand into your space.”

“My studio for the control room.”

“Yeah. Of course we’ll leave your ... uh ... playroom.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

‘Of course.”

They laughed.

“That still leaves my question, Harvey,” Joe said.

“Okay.”

“Rachel and a friend of ours who lives with us could both use an office. I thought...”

“You want me to rent you the kids’ rooms?”

“Yeah.”

“Done,” he grinned, winking at Rachel and shaking Joe’s hand. “Is she hot too?”

“Very cute,” Rachel chuckled.

“I like cute.”

“I hope you like smart too,” said Joe.

“She can teach me some things,” Harvey said, and everyone laughed.

As they walked to the elevator, Harvey held Joe back. “This girl like Moe and Cheryl?”

“Yeah.”

“You know I won’t do nothing. Rachel...”

“I know, Harvey. You’re a good man.”

“Thanks. That don’t mean I won’t look.”

“We men always look,” Joe said and they laughed.

When they exited the house, Trevor stood by his double parked limo smiling. “Just in time,” he said.

“You can take us downtown?” Scott asked.

“With a couple stops. Don’t worry. We drop Moe on fifth. Liang further down on the same avenue. The kids a little off the drag, but not much. Then to city hall.”

“Works for me,” Scott grinned.

They climbed into the back, except Eddie who took the passenger seat. Joe’s kids were all there, and Moe and Liang. And Essie. It was crowded, but they made due. The kids enjoying the floor, secured by concerned parents.

Essie handed Joe a poppy seed bagel with a honey and walnut cream cheese smear. “Your favorite,” she said. She also handed him a small bottle of orange juice. The rest got handed bagels and juice too.

“You have class?” Joe asked Essie as she sat on his lap.

“Later. Trev’s going to bring me up to Columbia. I’ll arrive in class, so to speak,” she giggled.

Scott leaned into the open space between the back and front area and asked Trevor something. “I need to have the insurance set up,” he explained to the rest. “The rep’s waiting, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Your dime,” said Cheryl.

“True,” Scott chuckled.

“Wait,” said Rachel. “You’re not getting paid for this?”

“I’m actually still on retainer from years ago.”

“How can that be?”

“Because Joanne pays me a sh ... a boatload of money. Every time I get a contract for Joe and Eddie. Eddie’s was just a couple times, but Joe’s been a bit more. What she does, and this is Cheryl’s doing actually, is she gets me ten percent of what she feels is the value I added by creating better contracts then most artists get. The value isn’t necessarily monetary, though Joanne turns it to money. Her and Sally ... You know Sally.”

“She’s my accountant now,” Rachel responded.

“Wise choice. Anyway they created this value chart. Real money and what they call general improvement. For instance, I made sure Eddie always had time to regroup. That they didn’t expect to work him too hard, like killing the goose with the golden egg. Sally transferred that to values, including having even more interest when Eddie returns, but more because it gives him a better life and doesn’t burn out and produces better songs because of it. None of that can really be tabulated, but I guess Sally figured out a way. Ten percent of all that ends up being quite a lot.”

“But that couldn’t have been all that often.”

“I make a great deal of money, Rachel. I certainly don’t depend on Joanne’s generosity. But it’s always a nice little windfall. Or big windfall with Eddie.”

“But ... Joanne doesn’t manage Eddie.”

“Cheryl can handle things from now on. If you want I can plug you into Sally’s value chart.”

“If you want, Rachel,” said Cheryl. “I’ve learned from the best, and I just did Joe’s contract.”

“Which was brilliant,” said Scott.

“Thanks.”

“But...”

“If something comes up, I have Scott to advise me,” Cheryl explained. “No charge.”

“Why?”

“Because ... because Cheryl always makes my day,” Scott grinned. “From the first day I met her, she’s been a breath of fresh air in this crowded town.”

“He loves me, Rachel. I love him too.”

“I...”

“You’re Eddie’s manager. It really is up to you who makes the best contract for Eddie. I know I’ll do all I can to make it right for him.”

His contract, as great as it was, had ended about the time Nigella had started losing it and Eddie wasn’t in the best place either. He decided not to continue it even if it would have created a major bonus if the label asked him to continue with them, which they very much did. That is to say, he had Joanne ask them to wait on his decision. And when the childhood trauma came out, handled discretely with great care so that the gossip jackals never knew, part of the reason his mother had not been prosecuted with his uncle, he wanted even less to stay the same course. And when Nigella died, he decided to regroup, literally and figuratively, with an altogether different label when he decided to record again. He still made money on his previous releases. Not as much as if he toured or recorded, but a lot more than most people made working for a living. A slow stream of gold from his back catalog rather than a deluge when he topped charts. Even his first label, a struggling independent, managed to pay him for sales. Scott stepped in for that too, to get them aligned with a major for international distribution, and to be both a sort of farm club and a hip label for the up and coming and for a few of the major artists who wanted their unique stamp. Maybe hoping some of Eddie’s magic might rub off on them.

“She’ll be the best you’ll get Rachel,” Joe said.

“You’re biased, and she isn’t even a real lawyer.”

“Of course I’m biased, and...”

“Rachel,” Scott sighed. “Cheryl passed the bar over a year ago. She’s assisted me on innumerable negotiations. At least once a week we go through every contract I do. I question her about it. She questions me. And learns. There’s nothing lazy about her. She’s always worked hard as a writer, which is why, besides being immensely talented and brilliant, she’s the best at what she does. For her, learning to be the best contract lawyer is as much a passion, which means she works just as hard, as her writing. You said you trust me. Trust me on this.”

“Or not,” Cheryl shrugged. “I’d be doing it for Eddie. For Joe’s best friend. I don’t care about a retainer or a value added percentage. If nothing else, I’m cheap,” she chuckled.

“This is me,” said Moe when Trevor slowed and stopped. “Just don’t be a Bache, Rache, when it means Eddie’s livelihood.” She kissed her wives and husband and Essie and slipped out the door.

“Jeez,” said Rachel.

“Sorry,” Joe responded. “It’s not something you need to worry about for a while. I don’t see Eddie touring anytime soon, and he hasn’t been exactly prolific lately.”

“True,” Rachel said. “But I still worry. About Eddie getting his money and not being cheated.”

“That’s what you’re paying Sally for,” said Joe.

“Yeah. And if he gets slandered.”

“That’s what Joanne’s little spies are for. She transferred them to you.”

“Yeah. I just need to take care of him.”

“Which you’ve done for a long time.”

“Not so well sometimes.”

“You’re still with him, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“Yes babe, you are,” Eddie said from the front seat.

“This is me,” said Liang. She kissed Joe, Cheryl, Essie and Rachel.

“See you.”

“Can’t wait,” said Joe.

“Me either,” she grinned wide.

“Rachel,” Scott began, “I don’t need to worry about it for a while. Maybe not for the best of reasons, but this gives Eddie a chance to retrench, retreat, reevaluate, renew, re whatever,” he chuckled.

“Retire?” said Eddie from the front.

“I didn’t suggest that,” said Scott.

“I can’t imagine it,” Joe said.

Eddie tilted his head to the side, but remained seated. “What they say about leaving on top of your game. Leaving them wanting more. Leaving when the leaving is good.”

“I didn’t suggest it,” Scott said, “but you must realize how hard it is to sustain in the world of rock. I mean I can’t know what a rock star sees when he’s had the success you’ve had, even if yours has been unique. I suppose every career is, the more successful, the more unique. But it’s hard to find a rocker who continues to sell the records like you do after ... well ... I guess it depends. But there always seems to be a decline.”

“I actually didn’t think about it,” said Eddie. “Caught up in my success? But I see the models now. The rise. The peak. Perhaps a high plateau. But then the descent. Sometimes gradual, but a lot of times severe. Then the valley that seems to extend pretty much to the end. Sometimes there’s blips. Little rises. But nothing like the halcyon days. I see two versions of the valley. The sublime and the ridiculous. The most sublime being the singers I envy. Those that have come up singing what they call the great American songbook. Frank Sinatra. Tony Bennet. They can sing those songs until they die. Maybe with less force, say, then when they were younger, but with more life experience, so it can be even better. Then there are those who use their time finally out of the spotlight to do whatever the heck they want. Van Morrison comes to mind. Elvis Costello. And there are those who just seem to sustain and not care that they no longer top the charts. Just doing what they’ve always done, perhaps with more maturity of new ideas, but without whatever that mojo was that made them huge. Happy to go out and sing their hits to make the audience, and toss in some songs most of their audience don’t know, and go home and write some more.”

“Sounds like that might be your choice,” said Joe.

“I’d actually like to do all of those, including the Great American Songbook,” Eddie chuckled. “After all, I stole enough from them. The other more sublime choice isn’t mine. Never being huge. Just popular enough. With a movable fan base. New songs become part of what their audience wants to hear, because they’re as good as the old ones. I’m thinking Leonard Cohen. He always seems to come up with another gem, perhaps because his songs are so odd and yet catchy. They never get old.

“The ridiculous is pretty obvious. Dressing up in rock star threads, fat leaking out the edges. Singing the hits to an audience who had been kids when they dug the music, but are just as old and leaking as the old star. Youth revisited. Nostalgia as camp. My version of the worst nightmare.”

“What is that mojo?” Scott asked. “Why Dylan for instance can’t write the incredible and indelible songs he wrote in the sixties?”

“I don’t know,” said Eddie. “I haven’t hit that wall. Or maybe I have. I’ve never been stuck on a song and I am now.”

“I said I’d help you with that,” said Joe.

“I may need it.”

“But I think Dylan wrote some pretty good stuff in the seventies,” Joe put out.

“Please Dad,” said Rhonda. “Dylan lost it when he put out those country albums.”

“I don’t know, Ronnie,” said Eddie. “Planet Waves had its classic.”

“And Idiot Wind was pretty great,” said Joe.

They both started singing those songs. Forever Young being Eddie’s choice. The elongated nasal vowels tangling in the limo, making everyone laugh.

“Please stop,” Rhonda laughed with everyone else, covering her ears.

“Pretty great, hunh?” said Joe.

“No! Pretty awful!” she said.

The kids got dropped off. Mal to preschool, and the other three to a public school on the Westside. Rhonda in third grade and Nathan in second. Joe’s wives took a breath and waited on their second offspring, who appeared a year apart as well. Nigel went to kindergarten. The roads converging somewhat at the base of Manhattan put the western jaunt not out of the way.

As Scott expected, City Hall was a bit of a mess. He decided to bring the others to a court where they patiently waited for Scott’s friend to take a break. A minor dispute between a landlord and his former tenant, although the tenant looked as if he could use the money, and the landlord didn’t. The tenant got two months of rent back. He and his wife had been forced to leave when the landlord hiked the rent which they couldn’t afford.

After being introduced to a man two years older than Scott, and looking young for a judge, the two gave each other shit as friends are wont to do. The judge using Scott’s company of three successful and well-known artists to accuse him of being too much with the hoi polloi to bother joining him at their old watering hole or coming to the house. Scott shot back that he needed to at least appear respectable. After that, the judge wrote and signed a note, and had his clerk come in and sign it as well.

“Scott’s told me about you Cheryl,” the judge smiled. “We had a somewhat similar situation in law school. Mostly giving him an extra step up and negotiating through some of the crap he got coming out. Probably the way a lot of women need to have that little bit more to get past the old boys and the misogynists.”

“I’ll always be in Brian’s debt,” said Scott.

“You’ve paid it in full making a success of yourself.”

“Thanks.”

“And any time you need advice or a judge’s signature, you come see me, Cheryl, okay?”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense. Scott chose to mentor you.”

“I kind of insisted,” Cheryl giggled.

“Even better,” Brian chuckled. “Shows you’re not just smart, because if you weren’t he’d have told you to get lost, but you’ve got hutzpah.”

“That she does,” Joe grinned.

“You ever give this life your fulltime effort, I’ll have your back.”