Chapter 5

Joe got up late for him. 10 am. Whatever he did prior to awakening, or in its act, farting, shifting, making some vocal noise or other, awoke Cheryl. They smiled at each other and she snuggled against him, her head resting between shoulder and chest, her fingers exploring his sparse chest hair.

“Eddie wants me in the band again,” he told her.

“How is that going to work?”

“I think his regrouping is regressing.”

“Which means?”

“We didn’t go out in the world for months. Just rehearsed. A lot.”

“So he wants to start over.”

“Yeah. At least that’s what it seems.”

“Is that why he came here?”

“One of the reasons,” he said. “Shawna sort of sent him here. And he wants to fire Joanne.”

“Hiring that boy?”

“Trevor? Yeah.”

“Pretty extreme. And weird. I imagine for you especially.”

“Yeah. But in a way it’s what Joanne does for Eddie. Protecting him. Enabling him. Supporting him. Understanding what he needs. Like making sure the tours don’t go on too long to exhaust him or for him to become too drug addled to function. Then giving him space to regroup and setting up the recordings when he’s ready. But, yeah, maybe she took a step too far.”

“Maybe?”

“She did guard him from possible bad publicity by making sure he got what he wanted in a controlled way, and...”

“She bought him a butt boy.”

“Actually the other way around. If he hadn’t found out, I believe the relationship would have sustained. Eddie loved Trevor, and I believe it was mutual.”

“But there would always be the lie that created it.”

“Yeah. I just can’t help thinking it was good for Eddie. Even if it was weird the guy being a sort of fantasy version of me, it ended up creating a bond I think Eddie needed.”

“I don’t know,” Cheryl frowned. “To hire a version of you. She knew that’s what he needed.”

“I knew she kept eyes on Eddie, including me sometimes. Close enough to know he was exploring his homosexuality. His shrink must have been in her pocket to know his fantasy. The only other ones who knew were me and Shawna as far as I know, and I doubt Shawna would ruin the trust they have telling her. I certainly never said anything.”

“Not even to me.”

“It seemed like Shawna, and Eddie through her, wanted it that way.”

“Moe knew, at least that night.”

“She seemed to. It makes me think Joanne felt guilty about it and needed a confessor. Maybe it was a step too far for her.”

“She did go too far.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe it was the last straw. Being Eddie’s protector. She’d had enough, and Eddie being a fucking crazed rapist became the final exclamation point ending her sentence so to speak.”

“I have a feeling she won’t mind being fired either,” Joe agreed.

“She pretty much said it.”

“Yeah. I thought it was a bad idea, what with Eddie losing Nigella, and needing all the support she could give him, but maybe he needs the complete shift.”

“Starting fresh.”

“Yeah.”

“With his original bassist.”

“Starting over,” Joe nodded.

“I should deliver Nigella’s tribute.”

“I should check on Eddie.”

“When’s Rachel going to be here?”

“Probably this afternoon. She was at their house in Laurel Canyon.”

“Need to use the bathroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Be quick.”

“Yes boss.”

While he pissed, she shouted, “You going to get work done with all this drama?”

“I plan to,” he shouted back.

“Now that we’re home, you should pull out those manuscripts.” He had told her about Eddie essentially giving him permission to release his first novel, and encouraging him to finish the second. Cheryl agreed.

“I will,” he said before flushing and washing his hands.

She darted past him when he exited the bathroom and closed the door. “I want Scott and me there when you present them to your publisher,” she shouted

“Don’t they need to read it?”

“Are you kidding? They’ll shit, so to speak,” she giggled. “A complete novel. The one you were meant to write. And the moms novel’s got some of your best writing.”

“But it’s my first novel,” he pointed out. “They’re bound to be skeptical.”

“It’s your first novel, Joe. Believe me, they’ll shit.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t be getting humble on me now. I prefer the confident Joe.”

“I won’t,” he laughed.

“That a boy. Any hesitance up front and we’ll give them an hour or so to look through both books. Any after and we tell them we’ll shop it around.”

“Then they’ll shit,” he chuckled.

“Publishers want to own writers. We want to own them.”

“Got it.”

“Good. I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll take mine later.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not quite ready to be officially up.”

“Fine. I like your stink.”

He laughed. Hearing the shower ended their shouting.

Putting on a robe, he padded out into the hallway. The guest room had Eddie sleeping soundly. Joe headed down to the kitchen and found the waffle batter from the night before. One can’t have enough waffles. He made a couple for himself, with enough left for Cheryl when she came down. Fresh strawberries. Homemade whipped cream. Sausage links sizzling on the stove. Fresh ground Costa Rican coffee. Fresh squeezed juice. Breakfast for a king. And a queen when Cheryl came down midway through his meal.

“I’ll make my own,” Cheryl said after kissing him. She hadn’t dressed yet. Sexy in her robe, still steaming a little from her shower.

“How’d I get lucky marrying such a delicious woman,” he said. “And having her stick it out.”

“Not lucky,” she said. “Smart. What’s with all this humility? You must know I’m the lucky one.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” she said, settling into his lap. Noticing the bulge. “Eddie sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

Everyone else had left. The kids to school. Mal in preschool. He would be too, if he hadn’t taken the week off.

They made out. Kissing. Rubbing. Tugging. He dampened a finger and stroked into her pussy, sliding across her clit.

“Keep that thought,” she said, and hopped off. Rescuing her waffles. They ended up perfect. Once she had her plate made she placed it next to his, took his cock and planted it at her slit. Sinking. Bringing his cock all the way in.

“You just showered,” he said.

“Wet inside and out,” she giggled.

Somehow they ate. No movement except little, thrilling twinges. He had one hand playing with her nipple. Traded it for the other. Eating right handed, then left. Her left hand stayed at their junction. Stroking her clit. Reaching for his balls. Stoking the heat. No flames. More hot coals getting slowly hotter.

When he finished eating, he had two hands available. He began moving beneath her, causing friction while his one hand continued with her breast. The other did the clitty strokes.

“Fuck Joe,” she finally moaned, pushing their plates aside, hers half finished. “Just fuck me.”

She spread herself open on the table. He stood behind her, thrusting powerfully in, but slowly. Moving faster. One hand remained on her clit. The other holding her hip. Pulling her to him. Her hands groped her nipples. She moaned quietly. Thrusting back at him, she demanded even faster and harder. They just let go and fucked.

“God!” she moaned. “Almost there.”

“Me too,” he said.

“Just uh fuck oh Joe,” she growled. Kept it low to keep from screaming.

He fucked even harder, finding his release, then pressed deep and filled her, adding to her own juices.

“Shit Joe,” she giggled.

“That was quick,” he murmured.

They pulled away. He handed her a napkin to catch their spend and cleaned his cock and balls with another napkin.

“Hit the spot,” she grinned, pushing him into his seat and straddling him. He felt her pussy dripping. She kissed him with soft, warm lips. “I love you, big guy.”

“I love you, Firecracker.”

They heard the elevator. “I thought he might catch us,” Cheryl giggled, turning around in his lap and finishing her breakfast. He pulled her robe closed. And his.

“I had the same thought,” he chuckled.

Eddie emerged from the elevator looking bedraggled and bleary eyed. A faded and misshapen black Misfits t-shirt and boxers. “Don’t mind me,” he said.

“Help yourself,” Joe told him. “We finished Essie’s waffles.”

“Coffee is fine. Maybe some ... ah ... strawberries left.”

Both Cheryl and Joe chuckled.

“I should go,” said Cheryl, standing.

“Don’t let me chase you away,” said Eddie.

“No. I gotta bring Rolling Stone Nige’s memorial.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Want me to make a copy?”

“Sure.”

She gave Joe a kiss and bounced to the elevator. When she disappeared behind the door, Eddie said, “Still a babe, Joe.”

“Yes she is.”

“When’s Rachel getting here?”

“Sometime this afternoon.”

“I’d have sent my driver, but I don’t seem to have one.”

“Yeah.”

“I vaguely recall him dropping me off here.”

“I wondered about that.”

“Private jet. Some rich john. Trev serviced him in some cabinet in the back. I insisted. While I grazed on the rich fuck’s coke and drank from his bar. We talked. Trevor and I talked. I don’t know about what. But I remember he cried. And he about beat up his john when the asshole tried getting close. Not that I could have done anything. But he got me here. Used the fucker’s service I think. I told him to leave me, even though nobody was home. I’m pretty sure I could see his limo about a block down. Watching over me. I’m in love with a fucking cowboy, Joe.”

Midnight Cowboy. Joe Buck. One of their favorite movies.

“You going to call him?” Joe asked.

“I’ll get his number from Jo.”

Joe nodded. Eddie ate. Strawberries and cream. Joe sat for a couple minutes.

“I got stuff I got to do,” Joe said.

“Give me a minute,” Eddie said. “I’m calling Jo after I eat.”

“Okay.”

More silence.

“Your kid going to audition?” Eddie smirked.

“Kind of like me, except he’s got talent,” Joe chuckled.

“You’re better than you think you are.”

“I use it to think sometimes too.”

Eddie nodded.

When he finished, he took his plate and rinsed it at the sink. Joe did the same after him with Cheryl’s and his plates.

Cheryl came down, looking hot and cool in a pencil skirt and leather motorcycle jacket. She kissed him again, handed the copy of the article to Eddie, said, “See you guys,” and rushed out the door.

“You read it?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah.”

He sat down and read it and cried. “Shit that girl can write,” he concluded with a sniffle.

“Yep.”

“Phone?”

“Living room.”

Joe gestured to the couch and brought him the phone from its little table. And settled next to him.

Eddie dialed from memory.

“Jo? Yeah. I’m ... getting better. You’re fired. Yeah. No, I’m glad. Could you? Do you have someone? Scott. Right. Yeah. No, the Monsters are done. What’s the point without Nige? I’ll call the girls if you ... Sure. Just Joe now. He said he’d do it. Maybe his little boy.” Eddie laughed. “Manager? Uhm ... Rachel.” He pulled the phone from his ear. “Need I remind you you’re not my manager anymore,” he smirked. “I know, but she’s smarter than you think she is. I know. I know you do. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work, but I’m pretty sure it will. I am. Okay. I’ll be here if Joe doesn’t kick me out. Uhm ... could you give me Trevor’s number? Okay.” Eddie looked at Joe. “She’s getting the number.”

“I’ll get a pad.”

“Thanks.” Back at the phone. “You have to admit it was fucked up Jo. It was the fucking shrink, wasn’t it? I should sue the fucker, if it wouldn’t make everything worse. Maybe, but fuck Jo. I love you, too, but Jesus! Alright. Okay. Maybe someday. Yeah. Go ahead.” He wrote the number. “Thanks Jo. See you Friday.” He hung up, shaking his head. “Crazy bitch.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. It’s so fucked up you have to laugh.”

“So she’s coming here?”

“Yeah. We have to figure out the contract. And the money.” Joanne had always handled Eddie’s money. Sally actually. So many managers took advantage of that situation. Joanne never did. “That’s the one thing I don’t know if I can trust Rachel with.”

“Have Sally handle it,” Joe said. “She does it anyway.”

“Your Sally?”

Eddie didn’t know about her getting Joe in trade, but he did know she was Joe’s accountant. Joe told him she should be his, but Rachel had him using her dad’s to bank his money and pay out taxes.

“Not my Sally,” Joe chuckled. “She works for Joanne.”

Eddie nodded and sighed. “Rachel won’t be pleased.”

“Probably not. You okay if I get some work done?”

“You don’t need to hold my hand.”

“Good to know,” Joe chuckled.

“Actually let me ride with you. I gotta get the number for the girls.”

“Sure.”

Eddie exited on the bedroom floor and Joe continued up to his office.

Joe pulled his two unpublished novels out of his file drawer, setting the first aside. No Contest. He’d worked enough on it over the years. Reached saturation point. But moms had more work to go. He thought about bringing Eddie’s sexual abuse into it. There were flash points. Moments when the characters based on Eddie’s mom and his mom separated due to conflict. But he always thought those moments could be stronger. The idea had its appeal.

The novel changed things from real life. He moved the time line up a bit so the moms could be adolescents during the flourishing of the beatnik, just before the turn of the sixties, and be a little old for the hippies, but still interested. Eddie’s dad would take over his dad’s business, but it was a grocer, and like the one in Joe’s town, the dad bought out the butcher and the baker and incorporated them. Got rich branding the product he bought out as homey, country style delicacies. But Joe couldn’t think of anything better to lure his mom’s and dad’s characters then taking over the doctoring in the small town when the town doctor died, and having them build a clinic for the farm towns in the area like they did.

Sex played a big part in the novel. In a way it’s the point. Sex as rebellion and liberation. Two nice Jewish girls from the repressive fifties, where families on television didn’t have anything to do with sex even if it was necessary to have a family! And there was nothing ethnic about them. Maybe the Goldbergs, but that show had faded from the mainstream by the time the two Jewish girls worried about their lack of presence on prime time.

Two naïve girls wake up in college. Joe’s mom’s character comes from a suburb, with some diversity, including a few Jewish families. A neighboring suburb is even called St Jewish Park instead of St Louis Park. Unlike Eddie’s mom, she’s seen the brewing of a youth rebellion, in some of the odd ball kids, a couple even wearing the clichéd black turtlenecks, discussing Alan Ginsburg and Jack Kerouac. Seen it. Not participated in it. But interested.

And of course both have been exposed to rock and roll. The dreamboats on picture sleeves, but also the barely restrained sexuality of Elvis, and the excellence of the bespectacled Buddy Holly.

But college presents something different. Folk singing. They even see Dylan before he became Dylan, playing the Ten O’Clock in Dinkytown along with other local greats like Koerner Ray and Glover before Dylan went east and exploded in the café scene in Greenwich Village.

They smoke dope. They fuck. Two hot young Jewesses. They even fuck each other’s dates and each other. It’s about fucking, not relationships. Fucking and stoned discussions. Discussions become about civil rights and free speech. The Eddie’s mom character brings in a boy from her home town. The only other Jew. They become a threesome, and decide to head west after graduating. Berkeley. The free speech movement. Joe’s mom’s character finds her Jewish boyfriend there, also from the twin cities. They stay long enough to see the incipient hippie movement. LSD and rock and roll. Enter a free love commune up among the redwoods. Where things turn to shit.

Not that things are always great. Jealousy. Depression. Splintering attitudes. Growing up or staying the same.

Eddie’s dad character gets called back to take over his dad’s business. Bringing home his pregnant spouse. And then the offer that brings her former best friend and her husband. Husbands shucking off the hippie garb for the cloth and attitude of professional men. Wives not quite there. Until Joe’s mom character has her first child and realizes the responsibility and that Eddie’s mom character never seemed to have that realization, and things become cold again.

It’s called moms because of how these two rebellious Jewesses create two opposite ways of child rearing, and the kids show the results. Eddie and his brother and Joe and his sister. The maladjusted compared to the fairly well adjusted. And how the mothers treats the other’s kids. Joe’s treating the Eddie character as his character’s best friend, with some concern at being brought up without much care. Eddie’s treating Joe’s with unnatural interest, the contrast between how she treats Eddie’s character making things worse for him.

And it’s still about sex. The moms make an attempt at swinging, sharing each other’s partners and each other the way they used to. Nothing good there, and so it’s just each other. The intimacy brings out conversations. Joe’s mom decides she doesn’t like Eddie’s mom, mostly because of the free love past becoming a callous attitude towards people, and the joy of meaningless sex. Eddie’s mom continues cheating. Joe’s considers it more and more with the dad going cold and distant until he cheats. And she ends up cheating with Joe’s dyke friend. And Eddie’s mom goes after Joe and gets caught. At a party celebrating his mom’s divorce. Joe’s mom both guilty and angry. Creating a battle of moms that resolves into a night of conversation. With Joe and Eddie there. A full circle moment, going back to the beginning. Essentially where the narrative comes from. Eddie’s dad invited, gets involved, and leaves, essentially a useless presence.

That last part had only been sketched: the party and the aftermath.

People who read it liked Joe’s writing. Said it was some of his best. The way he entered the minds of these two women. A gift. Being a man and getting inside women’s minds. Often better than the men.

It could get really intense bringing Uncle Fairy into it. And making the obsessive sexual nature of Eddie’s mom actually psychotic.

The phone rang a couple times as Joe contemplated these things. He figured they were for Eddie, and hoped Eddie figured that out too. He did.

Joe had been into this addition to the text for at least four hours when Eddie knocked at his door. His open door. Eddie was being careful.

“Rachel’s at the airport,” he told Joe. “Trevor is picking her up.”

“He still in town?”

“I guess so.”

“How did you get in touch with him?”

“I guess a high priced cowboy needs a good phone service.”

“I guess.”

“It’s called a pager.”

“Right. This doesn’t sound awkward at all. Rachel being picked up essentially by her nemesis. And ... well ... your relationship.”

“I offered him twice what Jo was paying.”

“What?”

“Kidding.”

“Still a cowboy?”

“He says he’s reformed,” Eddie shrugged. “Didn’t want to fuck the overpaid jock, but I guess it was necessary to get me here.”

“Jock?”

“Closeted former football star.”

“So a big guy.”

“Yeah. Trevor actually defended me against a guy who could probably have had me without much effort.”

“Sounds like love.”

“We’ll see. How’s it going?”

“I think Uncle Fairy might fit.” Joe saw the cringe. “I can leave him out.”

“Fuck no. Just make him as awful as he is.”

“Maybe I should meet him.”

“Maybe you should. You’re good at making shit up. But you’re better when you know the character.”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s definitely a character. Slimy cunt. Hey, maybe you could talk to Trevor. I bet he’s got some stories.”

“Making our moms and especially our dads look like shit. I doubt our dads could get litigious, but it won’t make bad relationships any better. I write a fiction based on Trevor’s tricks would probably get me killed.”

“I’m not even telling you that jock’s name.”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Yes you do.”

They laughed.

“Tell you the truth, I don’t know the fucker,” Eddie confessed. “Never been a big football fan. Unlike you.”

“Hey the Vikings were pretty great when we were kids. The Purple People Eaters.”

“Sounds charming.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Speaking of which... , “ he scampered off.

“Keep your bodily functions to yourself,” Joe yelled.

“Hey, you’re the ass man,” he shouted back.

“Jesus,” Joe muttered. And grinned. Maybe the pendulum had swung back to best friends and might even stay.

“Probably not,” Joe muttered, getting back to work.

A few minutes later, the phone rang. He answered it this time. Cheryl.

“Hey babe.”

“I’m stuck at the Stone.”

“Jann chasing that sweet ass again.”

“He’s gay Joe.”

“You could change any gay man’s mind.”

“Hasn’t worked with Scott.”

“Wasn’t Wenner married?”

“Maybe he figured it out late, like...”

“Yeah. Trevor is picking up Rachel.”

“That’s ... weird. So him and Trevor.”

“I guess they’re working it out or something.”

“Weird. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m staying. Rachel’s not my favorite person.”

“Mine either.”

“You invited her.”

“You know why.”

“I do. Doesn’t make it better.”

“What’s up?”

“Settling a freaked out girl. I guess her article got attacked pretty brutally by her editor.”

“Not something you can relate too.”

“I wish they’d picked me apart sometime. I’m not perfect.”

“Yes you are.”

“Whatever. It’s still not easy for us girls.”

“You think it was petty?”

“I wouldn’t put it past the asshole. You want to talk to her? She’s a fan.”

“Wait. Are you going to invite her over?”

“Maybe. She is cute,” she giggled. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind meeting you.”

Meaning yes, and probably the woman had some issues. An asshole editor the latest.

“Sure,” he said.

“Uh, hi,” he heard. Shy and nervous.

“Heard you’re having a bad day.”

“I was until Cheryl ... I’m surprised she’d bother with me, but she’s been amazing. She’s such an amazing journalist. My main inspiration. And you’re pretty amazing too.”

“Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Mel. Short for Melanie.”

He resisted chuckling. “Mind if I call you Melanie. It’s prettier.”

“Okay.”

“What were you writing about?”

“Ani De Franco and Righteous Babe records. I got the feature because, unlike anyone else here, I’d been reviewing, you know, women’s music. They were pretty balanced. You know, not raves like I’m a fan and can’t be critical. But the article, Ted said I gushed.”

“Did you gush?”

“No! Maybe some. But Ani’s a pretty remarkable woman.”

“She is. What I’ve heard.” Which wasn’t much. Joe knew her fan base had been growing pretty rapidly. “What’s the status? He going to let you rewrite it? Do you want to rewrite it?”

“Cheryl got him to back off. Yeah, I’ll see if I can gush a little less. Cheryl’s helping. God! Cheryl fucking O’Connor’s helping me!”

Joe laughed. “I know how you feel. Why don’t you guys come by? Cheryl’s got a nice quiet office. Not so much distractions. What’s your poison? I bet a good stiff drink would help.”

“A spliff would be better.”

“I can take care of that too,” Joe chuckled. “I have a friend here that worships at the altar of the spliff. I’m sure he’s got some mind-altering shit.”

“Joseph Solomon is inviting me to his home,” she murmured.

“Yes I am,” he chuckled. “Please? That way you can bring my wife home. Speaking of which, could you put her back on?”

“Okay.”

“Essie,” said Cheryl.

“I know, but it can just be a wide eyed young writer visiting a favorite writer. Nothing more.”

“Joe.”

“Alright. She’s got some issues.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe a first date?”

“Yeah. Alright.”

“Women’s music?”

“I’m not even sure what that implies.”

“With her?”

“Yeah.”

“Confused?”

“More to do with choices.”

“You’ve talked to her.”

“Just now. She really needed to vent.”

“Okay.”

“You know I just saw you this morning,” she giggled.

“So?”

“See you soon stud.”

“It’ll give you an excuse to escape Rachel.”

“True.”

They hung up.

The doorbell rang. “Shit,” he said, figuring Eddie to be indisposed, and rushed down the stairs.

Rachel. Looking impatient. And really good. Tanned. She’d started getting plump last time he saw her, bloated maybe. But it was like her face firmed up. And the mischievous lusty gaze had become a hardened one as well. A different sort of determination.

“You going to invite me in?” she asked. “Or are you afraid I’m a vampire.”

“Too tanned for that,” he chuckled, grabbing her suitcase and letting her slide by him.

“Nice place,” she said.

“Thanks. Where’s Trevor?”

“You mean the driver?”

He sighed.

“Where’s Eddie?”

“In the crapper. Make yourself at home.”

He went outside and saw the stretch limo sitting a block away, double parked. He walked fast to it and tapped at the passenger window. The window lowered automatically. “Hey,” he said, lowering himself.

“Hey Joe,” said Trevor.

“I can’t imagine there’s anywhere to park,” Joe said.

“Yeah,” Trevor said.

“Can you get rid of it and take a cab back?” Joe asked.

“Eddie okay?”

“He’s better.”

“You sure he wants to see me?”

“Pretty sure.”

“With that bitch there?”

“Yeah. You sure you’re completely gay?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Couldn’t play for the other team?”

“Not my A game. Nor my B or F game either.”

“Right. Maybe blindfolded?”

Trevor chuckled. “I can smell them Joe. Even more blindfolded I would think. Believe me I tried. Both jobs.”

“Couldn’t have been performance anxiety?”

“Nope.”

“Oh well.”

Trevor scooted over. Opened the glove compartment. Took out a pen and a small pad. Wrote down his hotel and room number. Tore it off and gave it to Joe. “Tell him he can call,” he said. “Or just stop by.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“You love him?”

“I guess I do.”

“Then come back here. Trust me.”

He looked at Joe. “Alright,” he sighed.

“Good.”

Joe kept the paper anyway and watched him drive off.

Joe returned to his house. Rachel looking impatient still. “Where is he Joe?” she muttered.

“Probably taking a shower,” he said. “Wants to look his best for you.”

“Or for the faggot. He knows I don’t give a shit how he looks.”

“Whatever. Nigella’s dead. Give him a break.”

“I’ve been giving him a break. And he goes on a fucking bender! Scared me to death.” She sobbed.

Joe sat with her on the couch. Took her in his arms and hugged her. “I can’t live without my little guy,” she sniffled into his ear. “We were getting straight together. Getting our shit together. Really fucking trying. Just the two of us. No more random strangers. And then this fucking driver comes along. Eddie couldn’t even bring him home. I started really working out. Making myself look best for him. Then ... fucking Nige dies.”

“You finally win him over, Rache?” said Eddie. Dressed in a newer t shirt and jeans. For him that was dressing up.

“Eddie!” Rachel shouted. Jumped out of Joe’s arms and into his. “Don’t ever scare me again like that you little fucker!” Then they kissed. She pulled back and smiled. “Show me your room.”

At the elevator he looked back. “Trevor?” he mouthed.

“He’ll be here,” Joe mouthed back, nodding.

He nodded back and grabbed her ass. “Getting harder bodied I see,” he grinned.

“Just as long as you get hard for me,” said Rachel as the elevator shut.

Joe went to a high cabinet in the living room and reached for a bottle of scotch. He needed it. Brought it to the kitchen and poured himself a few ounces of the smooth stuff. He realized the burn would be reaching a hungry stomach and looked for something in the fridge to remedy that. The phone rang.

“You eat lunch?” Cheryl asked.

“Great minds,” Joe chuckled.

“There’s a new Thai place by Mal’s sitters.” They had a nice couple with their own kid in preschool watch Mal most afternoons. The dad worked early, as a baker, and the mom worked later, as a hostess, so they had the time free for it. And Mal and the boy had become friends already. “Gotten good reviews.”

“Pick up a bunch of food,” Joe suggested.

“Okay.” She hung up.