Chapter 8

Joe awoke with a start, but the beautiful body before him quickly calmed him. The covers had lowered so he could look at her soft skin and her gentle curves. He kissed her shoulder.

“Mmm,” Essie reacted, turning to him.

“Hey,” he smiled. “Been awake?”

“Just a few minutes. I enjoyed having you behind me and especially that amazing cock pressed between my thighs.

“Morning wood,” he explained.

“I know.”

“I figured you would, smart ass.”

“You seem to like my ass, smart or not.”

“I love your ass, as you well know, little vixen. But morning wood has its purpose.”

“Go. You want breakfast?”

“There’s a decent diner near here.”

“Sounds good. Shower?”

“Give me a few minutes.”

“Of course.”

They kissed lightly not minding a little morning breath. Joe grabbed his bag to remedy his though. “You can use my toothbrush if you don’t mind,” he offered.

“I don’t. Our mouths have gotten rather intimate.”

“True,” he chuckled.

“Do you mind if I have some private time in the bathroom before we shower?”

“Nope.”

After his ablutions, he let her have hers before he heard the shower start and her calling him. “Uncle Joe.”

He entered the shower with her in it. “Can you stop calling me Uncle Joe?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said, which got her a spank. “Ooh.”

“You like that,” he said, spanking her again.

“I do, but I’m sore,” she pouted.

“I’d be surprised if you weren’t,” he said, kissing her shoulder again.

He got the washcloth and soap and washed her back, and then her front. She did the same for him, especially his half hard cock. They took turns washing each other’s hair, his massage of her scalp making her moan. Rinsing off and kissing, they got out and dried themselves.

A little while after, they sat across from each other at a small diner table. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, wheat toast. Nothing special. But the diner somehow made the coffee fresh every time. It cost more because of it. And fresh squeezed orange juice or grapefruit juice. Essie had the former, and Joe the latter. She had tea, but even that had been done right. Loose leaves in a strainer.

“When’s mom getting here?” she asked.

“Sometime this afternoon, probably,” Joe said. “Probably took the earliest flight, because she wants to join Cheryl and Scott and me when we meet with my publisher.”

“I wish I could join you, but I have class. Another presentation.”

“Nothing this morning?”

“In about an hour.”

“Where?”

“Columbia. A long lecture class.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I would have wakened you if you hadn’t woken on your own.”

“We didn’t get much sleep.”

“I’m good. You?”

“I’ll need a nap.”

“Old man.”

“I’ve suggested you meet a boy your age.”

“I like my men old,” she said. They chuckled. Even with the serious undercurrent, which she acknowledged with a sigh and a nod.

Nothing else needed to be said on the subject.

They grabbed a cab home. Or at least for Joe to be dropped off there, and Essie to continue to Columbia on Joe’s nickel (so to speak).

“You had breakfast?” Moe asked him.

“Yep.”

“You guys have fun?”

“We did. Let me make breakfast?”

“Just some cornflakes.”

“Sit. Let me fix it.”

“Thanks.”

He made her coffee the way she liked it. A little sweet and a dollop of milk. She’d already had it brewing. The kids trickled in while he made her cereal with slices of banana and strawberries. He made them the same, with juice and milk instead of coffee of course. Once everyone settled down, he sat next to Moe.

“So what happened?” she asked.

“With Shawna?”

“Of course with Shawn. I know what happened with you and that little vixen.”

They chuckled. The Little Vixen had been a favorite book of Essie’s as a child, and it became a nickname, more appropriate when she got older and flirted mercilessly with Joe.

“Turned out May Tang was a dragon lady in training. Her trainer, her mother, basically encouraged the union between future Nobel Prize winner and her. But she’s lesbian, and mostly wanted Heather.”

“So she’s a conniving...”

“Yes. That’s exactly what she is. Essie basically told Shawna to go home and fix things, and we gave notice to May that she quit her position, or positions I guess, under Hans.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “I think we were pretty convincing, but like you said she’s a conniving...”

“You threatened her?” When he nodded, she asked, “With what?”

“The lesbian angle. And disrupting her parents’ little empire. Bill was brought up.”

“Good. So she’s a rich...”

“Yep. And spoiled, at least by her dad. Her mother being a dragon lady probably scared her into submission.”

“So the myth is true. Like a Jewish mother, a Chinese dragon lady.”

“In this case it seems.”

“Hunh. I should probably get ready for work. Rhonda?”

“I’ll make sure we get to school on time, Momma Moira.”

“I know you will, sweetheart,” Moe kissed her head.

Joe looked at Nathan yawning. “Late night?” he asked.

He nodded. “Sorry. Uncle Eddie...”

“Let him know growing boys need their rest.”

“I will.”

“I’ll talk to him too.”

“It was really cool though, Dad. I didn’t want to stop.”

“How about you show me what you learned later. Maybe we can jam with Uncle Eddie.”

“Cool.”

“Could I...” Rhonda started.

“Could you what?” Joe prompted.

“Uhm, I have this ... uhm ... poem, and ... uhm ... I’d like to show it to Uncle Eddie.”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

“And ... I’ve been singing in the school chorus.”

“I know you have.”

“And ... uhm ... Mr. Langhenham said I could sing solo. He said I had a good voice, and with some training...”

“You do have a sweet voice,” said Joe. “Would these be one on one training?”

“I suppose it would.”

“And when would that happen?”

“Oh. I don’t know.”

“Let him work with you in music class. Okay?”

“Okay Daddy. I guess that makes sense. But he says he has classes with some of his old students like at night or something.”

“I tell you what. How about I find you a real expert at teaching voice.”

“Mr. Langhenham is an expert, Daddy. The chorus has won awards.”

Joe sighed. Moe entered the kitchen. “Ready Malicious?” she asked the youngest.

“Yes Mommy,” Mal giggled.

“What’s wrong, Joe?” Moe asked.

“Got a second?”

“Okay. Put on your coat, honey.”

“Okay,” said Mal cutely.

Joe pulled Moe to a place near the hearth. “Carl Langhenham wants to coach Rhonda one on one.”

“You don’t trust him.”

“He gives me the creeps.”

“He’s been teaching for twenty years.”

“A lot of things get hidden in this world.”

“For twenty years?”

“Yep.”

“What do you want to do?”

“A discrete investigation.”

“What about Rhonda?”

“We’ll find her someone we can trust.”

“How about Eddie?”

“He’s never been trained.”

“But he obviously knows the mechanics. Has he ever blown out his voice?”

“Just when he got sick and pushed it.”

She nodded, kissed him and said, “I should go. Put Bill on him, if he’s going after Rhonda.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Rhonda stood when he returned to the kitchen, expectantly. “I’m going to talk to Uncle Eddie about training you,” he told her.

She grinned widely. “That would be awesome. I wanted to sing that poem to him.”

“You have a tune?”

“Yes Daddy,” and she began to sing. She had a sweet voice, if a little reedy. Expressive, but unsteady. A song about an indigent woman she’d seen, pushing a stolen shopping cart around containing all her possessions. Her tiny home on wheels. Imagining the woman’s crazy, nostalgic mind. The tune Dylan’s Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands, Dylan being her current favorite singer. Worrying the song might last as long as its source music, Joe cut her short as she began the second verse.

“That’s lovely, sweetheart, but you need to get to school.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” She blushed.

After seeing his kids leave, Joe went upstairs, stripped and slipped into bed beside Cheryl. She barely regained consciousness, said a soft “Hey,” and went back to sleep. Joe’s nap commenced soon after.

When he woke a couple hours later, it didn’t surprise him that Cheryl had gotten up. He dressed and went to find her, which turned out easy since she waited for him in the living room, a legal pad in front of her.

“Joanne will be here arriving at 1 at Kennedy,” she said after a kiss. “We’ll be meeting the publishers at 3.”

“Trevor picking her up?”

“Yeah. He getting paid for all that driving?” Cheryl asked.

“I don’t know. I hope so. I don’t even know whose dime the limo’s on. I first thought it was this jock john, but Trevor’s had it for a few days.”

“Maybe it’s his dime,” she shrugged. “Sounds like he can afford it.”

“I suppose.”

“Does it matter?”

“You asked,” Joe pointed out. “You think Eddie’s up?”

“I haven’t seen him.”

“I’m going to check anyway.”

“I’m going to my office.”

“I’ll probably see you up there.”

She stood. They kissed. He took the stairs down and she took the elevator up.

Eddie was found in the little studio, dressed in sleep clothes, the same as Joe and his wives. T-shirt and boxers. “You want some coffee?” Joe asked him.

“I’m good. Sit and play your bass.”

“Sure.”

Eddie worked on a new tune, coming off the Link Wray Rumble walking bass they’d screwed around with before.

“I heard you worked with Nate,” Joe asked while they played.

“You’re right. He’s a natural.”

“You mind him jamming with us?”

Eddie snorted. “Cowsills hunh? Sure.”

“You mind working with another Solomon?”

“Who?”

“Rhonda? She’s got a pretty good voice, but it could use some training.”

“I’ve never thought about teaching my tricks. You know I figured them out on my own?”

“Yeah. You just had piano.”

“Yeah.”

“How’d you figure out not to strain yourself?”

“I felt the straining on my voice box early on. Found out if I breathed from my diaphragm and opened things up more, the strain went away. And I sounded better and a lot louder,” Eddie chuckled.

“Actors do the same. You figured that out when you were a kid?”

“Yeah.”

“Impressive.”

“We were both precocious kids. Maybe that’s why we ended up best friends.”

“I don’t know how precocious I was.”

“Of course you were. You just developed slower. I guess writing needs more development than music. But your early poems already impressed me.”

“I don’t remember you telling me that.”

“Of course not. We were boys,” Eddie chuckled. “But do you remember me asking if you’d written things?”

“I do. Because it surprised me. You gave me shit.”

“It made you laugh. Told me to go fuck myself. I thought you took it for what it was. Teasing.”

“Probably. You and Harriet were my audience for a long time. I did feel encouraged.”

“And Harry probably gave you more shit than I did.”

“She did,” Joe chuckled. “You got lyrics for this.”

“Still working it out.”

“Really?”

“It’s different now, Joe. I feel like a blank slate. This will be the hardest song I ever wrote. A song of goodbye. For the Monsters.”

“Nigella.”

“Yeah. I don’t want it to be angry. Or at least not entirely. I loved her Joe. I want to express that too.”

“Maybe I can help.”

“We’ve only collaborated on No Contest.”

“It’s my favorite Monsters tune.”

“I guess I’m partial to it too.” Eddie went into it. They harmonized, Joe taking a much deeper tone than Eddy. It felt like it sounded good to Joe. Eddie’s smile after seemed to agree. “Are you going to be my bassist?” he asked.

“I’d like that.”

“Cool. I’ll show you what I’ve got.”

“I’m thinking of writing a musical for Charlie. For Morpheus. For its final show.”

“And you want me to write the tunes.”

“Maybe we can write everything together.”

“You trust me working on the book?”

“If you can trust me working on the lyrics. The music will be all yours of course.”

“And you can be producer/director.”

“Yeah.”

Joe told him about the Little Prince idea.

“Where would an adolescent kid meet an alien?” Eddie asked.

“Maybe a runaway?”

“So they both find their way home. Sounds pretty dark.”

“I suppose it does.”

“We could make it really dark.”

“Like...”

“Abuse Joe.”

Joe took a breath. It upset him, what Eddie had to go through, though not nearly as much as it upset Eddie. “You want to go there?”

“I do.”

“You want to sexualize a beautiful 13 year old boy.”

“It’s not sexual, Joe. It’s assault. Violence. Power. Domination. Does that sound like sex to you? I mean when it’s real and not some kinky fantasy.”

“No.”

“No. Even when it’s bad sex, it’s always a partnership.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Fuck you, Joe.”

“Sorry.”

Eddie laughed. “I’m much better than I was. I finally got it. Getting off on my partner getting off. I think Rachel would agree.”

“That’s great Eddie. And I’m trying not to sound condescending. You know Rachel...”

“I know. I’m still okay with it.”

“I’m still not sure I am.” When the door opened, Joe said, “Speak of the devil.”

“I’ve graduated from succubus,” Rachel smirked. Wearing the sleep uniform of t shirt and boxers, the t shirt being Eddie’s faded Misfits one, its misshape showing Rachel’s tanned left shoulder, and despite her bed hair and bleary eyes, she still looked beautiful and sexy. She kissed Eddie’s cheek and asked, “Coffee?”

“Sure,” said Eddie.

“Joe?”

“I’m good.”

“I know you are,” she winked, kissing his cheek as well. Joe watched her firm, pair shaped ass shift beneath the boxers as she departed.

“You want that,” said Eddie.

“She’s never looked better,” Joe admitted.

“Tastes better too,” Eddie chuckled. “I don’t have to be there.”

“Yes you do.”

Eddie nodded. He started picking a slow jazz, shifting chords. Joe had to work to find them, and did.

“Good,” Eddie grinned. Later, he asked, “Rhonda ever have lessons?”

“Piano. Didn’t take to it.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a folky. Totally into Dylan. The early Dylan.”

“Freewheeling?”

Joe nodded. “She’s been listening to Blonde on Blonde lately, I think,” he laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll teach her guitar, too.”

“Cool.”

Rachel came down with a couple mugs of coffee and a couple of donuts. It stopped the playing. After Eddie finished his donut, he grabbed his Altoids tin sitting atop his guitar case. Joe declined smoking. “Got a meeting today.”

“Yeah?”

“My publisher.”

“Going to sell them my book?”

Joe chuckled. It had always been Eddie’s book to Eddie. Joe thought of it as their book. “That and moms.”

“With the changes?”

“Not the chapters I give them.”

“I suppose you’re still working it in.”

“Yeah. And Joanne...” Both he and Eddie looked at Rachel.

“What?” she said. “She’s not my enemy.”

“You sure?” asked Joe.

“I’m not dancing a victory dance, okay? This is about what’s best for Eddie. She fucked up. I think I can do better.”

“It’s not like you get along,” said Joe.

“We talked about this,” she muttered.

“Right.”

“Talked about what?” Eddie asked.

Joe and Rachel looked at each other. Rachel grinned. “Just being Rache the Bache,” she said.

“That’s been well established,” Eddie pointed out.

“Yeah but Joe can be dense. Especially when defending his ladies. I had to remind him of the obvious.”

“Okay. This about turning things over to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Joanne will be here soon,” Joe looked at the digital wall clock. “I should probably get ready.”

“She going to want to meet with me?” asked Rachel, sounding nervous.

“Later. After the meeting. Or tomorrow, depending how tired she is.”

“Or how much loving she needs,” Rachel smirked.

“That too,” said Joe, looking at Eddie.

Eddie laughed. “She’s a needy lady, which always surprised me. How confident and capable she is.”

“No one can be that all the time. I give her the rock of support she needs.”

“I know what a rock you can be,” Rachel teased.

“Me too,” said Eddie.

“Jesus. I’ll leave you two to your reminiscences.” Joe put away his bass.

“They don’t necessarily have to be memories, Joe,” Rachel smirked, but her eyes expressed something else. Need? Desire? Hope? Some sort of mix. But definitely vulnerability.

“I’ll leave on that note,” Joe sighed.

He headed up to the office floor. Poked his head into Cheryl’s office. “I’m going to pull the copies together,” he said.

“I got the contract,” Cheryl said, patting her fancy briefcase that Joe gave her a couple years before at her law school graduation. “I’ll watch.”

She stood in his doorway as he gathered the copies and shoved his legal pad into his shoulder bag. “A good luck fuck?” she asked when he finished.

He glanced at the clock and nodded. “She’s probably just arrived at the airport.”

It started as a good luck suck. Cheryl kneeled in front of him, him sitting at his desk chair. She pulled away the layer between her mouth and his cock, which bounced out, fully hard. Just two deep throats later, he exploded into her mouth, which surprised both of them.

“Rachel?” she asked.

“Sorry.”

“She’s gotten hotter.”

“Yeah. Your turn.”

“That’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

She relented. He stripped her bottom half naked. She replaced him in his chair. It took a lot longer, which they expected. He finally reached into his side desk drawer and pulled out a vibrator. She took it and sucked it to make it wet. He fucked her pussy with it, then her ass, sucking on her clit with vigor while rubbing her g spot. It may have taken a while, but her orgasm arrived explosively. Her juices covered his face. He grinned at her, her juices dripping from his chin.

“Good one,” she chuckled, breathlessly. “Is she hotter than me now, Joe?”

“Cheryl!”

“With the kids and...”

“She’s not the one I love and cherish, and...”

“But she’s hotter.”

“No, Cheryl, she’s not. You’re sexier than ever. Curvier. You know how I like my curves.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I never lie to you.”

“About this you would.”

“Let me check,” he said, gently tugging on her shirt. She let him remove it and her bra. He took her glasses off. Even though well used to it, he found her body and her cute and beautiful face just as wonderful and seductive to look at as ever. More, because her breasts had gotten larger and her hips broader, and exercise, which they all did in the basement in a weight room with several gadgets to keep away the fat, kept things firm. Her stretch marks had been kept subtle from lots of moisturizer, but even if more pronounced, their reason in itself would have made them sexy to him. Just as it had when they formed with their babies. He kissed every attribute, including her full sexy ass when he brought her to the cot. That brought his mouth to her sex again, and brought moans from her mouth.

“Joe,” she moaned.

He removed his boxers that had remained lowered to his thighs and crawled behind her and pushed in deep. “This is what you do to me,” he moaned.

Long low strokes scraped along her upper pussy. Fingers rubbed clit and tugged nipples. He pulled her torso up and leaned down to kiss her neck. She turned her head, and they kissed. “Fuck me my beautiful fucker,” she moaned, lowering her torso. Her fingers met his at her clit and nipple. Replacing them. He kept at her other nipple while grabbing hold of her hip and fucked her hard and fast, his strokes bringing his entire cock into play. He fucked her like that until she came, and he pushed deep, though he didn’t cum. He felt her sexual essence coat his balls in warmth, and let it cool there before he finally withdrew.

He pulled her onto his lap, and she rested her head against his shirt. “Sorry I doubted you,” she murmured.

“It’s certainly not like you.”

“I guess Rachel brings out the worst in me.”

“It’s a talent,” he said and they chuckled. “Maybe jealousy isn’t a bad thing.”

“It’s a stupid emotion,” she said. “It’s a lack of trust and I trust you to love me until death do us part.”

“Same for me, Firecracker.”

“I know.” She straddled his lap and placed his glans at her damp slit and lowered onto him until he seated deep inside her.

“We don’t have time...” he said.

“I know. It’s just a convenient place to keep it while I love you.”

“My favorite place,” he chuckled and brought his lips down to hers.

They kissed for several minutes, separating to look at each other before joining again. He remained hard inside her despite neither of them moving.

Weird at its beginning, their relationship remained weird. After ten years, couples become complacent. Any lust they had has turned to an occasional and all too familiar coming together for one or the other’s need for release. Or only when both needs conjoin. Or not at all. But the passion remained. The lust. The love.

Joe sighed. “We should get ready.”

Cheryl sighed. “I suppose we should.”

Instead they kissed some more. Like two teen lovers not wanting to end a telephone conversation, but a lot closer, and without the need for words. Finally Joe’s cock wilted and with a giggle, she slipped off his lap, no longer connected physically.

They headed to the master bathroom for a quick shower to wash off sweat and sex juices. Cheryl put on her power suit, exposed cleavage and pants that seemed to show her ass purposely making it both businesslike and sexy. Joe donned a white t shirt and underpants, black hose like socks, and headed down to the walk-in closet on the main floor.

Though a large house, Joe and his wives still needed to make compromises. The master bedroom had been one of the things that made them choose the house. Large enough for an extra-wide and extra-long custom bed and to have three people live close in but with some feeling of space. But the bathroom ended up being in need of expansion, for a bath and a shower for three, as well as two sinks, which took out most of the walk-in closet. On the same floor, the two boys and two girls bunked together. A guest room became two when divided. They got that many guests coming through. One of those had enough room for a bed, dressers and a desk. The one Essie stayed in. The other only had room for a bed and an armoire.

The main floor got transformed as well. A small guest room became the walk in closet shared by Joe and his wives and long staying guests if needed. The dining room became the kid’s playroom. They ate in the kitchen, which was another plus for buying the place because it was large and had room for a table for eight. Any more guests would make do in the living room. Any more beds, the sofa there folded out.

The attic had already been subdivided into four rooms. Servants quarters, and later for a large Catholic family. They had turned the fourth room into a half bath. The previous tenant had tossed their crap up there, even though half the space had been provided for storage.

The basement had been the most changed. Before, a room for the water heater and furnace and the washer dryer. Otherwise it had been open. Some sort of party room had been there, with a pool table, ping pong table, a wet bar and a poker table. Shelves and cabinets had provided the stashes for the equipment. They’d had to pull out the AstroTurf carpet, where they saw some proof of flooding, and had the walls and floor checked and sealed before constructing the various rooms. A deep violet runner ran down the hall between rooms. Moe’s choice. It also covered the floor in the padded room. The studio had been tiled, floor to ceiling, for acoustics. An acoustic expert had come in for that. The gym/weight room had a special floor with some slight give. Wooden slats with a thin layer of cushion from the concrete. Designed for dance and martial arts, though almost exclusively used for the latter or for exercising.

One would have thought that the two women of the house would use the majority of the walk-in, but Joe had got the bug for vintage clothes diving, and along with the bespoke suits and shirts Constance insisted he had to have, his array of vintage suits, sports jackets, slacks, shirts, and etc. rivaled Moe’s dresses, shirts, skirts and etc. Maybe twice a year they’d head up to Kingston New York, which had a couple of cool large flea markets, and points north just to find old, funky stuff. Other travels to other cities, nationally and internationally, included vintage shopping as much as possible. For Joe these excursion held the charm of treasure hunting because his height made it much harder to find things that fit. It also made him more open minded. The ugly or the tacky amused him. But all in all he dressed better than his contemporaries. Button shirts. Slacks. Sports jackets. Suits on special occasions or sometimes for the hell of it. The same with ties.

Moe also continued to dress in vintage clothing, often going to work in an old gown, the height of fashion decades before. She rarely dressed down, though she’d been known to don men’s suits when Joe wore his. Both had a tailor that fitted the aged clothes to their shape.

Cheryl, on the other hand, dressed conventionally. As casually as possible mostly. She had her little black dresses for dressing up. For official occasions, like for interviewing or contract work, which was almost always for Joe, she wore pants suits. For those she always wore the best she could find. So her part of the walk-in closet didn’t take up nearly the room as her mates. Her one exception was a rack of vintage furs. That was what she looked for when vintage clothes diving. And cool leather jackets. And sexy shoes and boots. She had the most of those. Neither Moe nor Joe looked at footwear much. Moe still liked the funky juxtaposition of fancy old dresses and army boots or sneakers. Joe only cared about comfort, and shoes his size were the hardest thing to find.

Joe chose a favorite outfit in the walk-in closet. Maroon slacks and a deep blue sports jacket. An off white dress shirt, on the tan side. No tie. He looked at himself in the angled mirror set up, like one sees in clothing store. Noticed his thick brunette hair nearly to his shoulders edged towards needing cutting. That moment when the lion mane look would soon look shaggy, but retained its attractive presence. He’d cut it fairly short soon and let it grow out again to that length.

“Admiring yourself?” Cheryl smirked, hugging his backside, her hands dipping into his jacket pockets.

“Looking for faults,” said Joe.

“You’re worthy of admiration.”

“You too, my sexy firecracker.”

They waited in the living room for Joanne’s arrival. Joe poured them a couple fingers of Armagnac in snifters to settle nerves.

When the doorbell finally rang, they both went to the door. “Sorry,” Joanne muttered, hugging Joe. “Delayed arrival and traffic.”

“We’re fine, and they’ll wait,” said Joe before kissing her. “Just cracked open some Armagnac.”

“We should probably go.”

“We can bring it along,” he said, and went back into the living room, grabbing another snifter and adding to the ones Cheryl and he had been sipping from. Fingers held two glasses suspended while the other hand held the curve of Joanne’s snifter as he slipped through the front door. Cheryl locked it behind them. Joe handed off the drinks and they crawled into the limo, Trevor at the door.

“Did you eat?” Joe asked Joanne.

“Clever Trevor bought me a sandwich at the airport while he waited.”

“I knew we forgot something,” said Cheryl.

“You guys haven’t eaten?” asked Joanne.

“Nerves,” Joe explained.

“Want me to stop somewhere?” asked Trevor.

“Maybe a slice?” Cheryl suggested.

“Any pizza joint on the way Trevor?” Joe asked.

“There’s always pizza in this town,” Trevor said.

“Okay,” Joe said.

Not long after, Trevor stopped. “I’ll grab them,” he said.

“Whatever looks freshest,” said Cheryl.

“Maybe I should come with,” said Joe. “For drinks.”

“Check the compartment,” said Trevor, hopping out the door, as usual double parked.

Joe avoided the fancy beer and splits of champagne and grabbed a ginger ale. He handed both Cheryl and Joanne Diet Cokes. When Trevor returned, large loose wedges of cheese pizzas in hand, he gave them to Cheryl and Joe before getting back in the driver’s seat. Joe and Cheryl downed the rest of their Armagnac before eating their slices.