Circles Collide

Chapter 12: Family Ties

Schweitzer Mountain, Idaho

December 2, 1996

Jake and Laura, both dressed head to toe in skiing gear, came tromping into the resort’s lodge just after four o’clock in the afternoon after spending their first full day out on the slopes without the assistance of their instructor. They were both tired and a little bit sore from the day’s adventure as well as from the previous three days of falling multiple times while learning the basics of allowing gravity to pull them down steep snow-covered slopes with a couple of slick boards strapped to their feet. In addition to the normal muscle soreness that came with overexertion, Jake had a moderate twinge in his left shoulder and a swollen right knee while Laura had a rather spectacular bruise on her right hip, pain in her tailbone whenever she sat down, and a minor sprain to her right wrist. Still, they were having a wonderful time on their first true vacation in more than a year and they were happy as they took off their jackets and found seats in front of the large picture window that looked out over the town of Sandpoint and Lake Pend Oreille far below.

Since it was a Monday afternoon early in the season the lodge was not terribly busy. There were only a dozen or so customers currently patronizing the establishment. None of them were paying attention to the famous couple in their midst—a minor miracle in and of itself. A fire was burning in the large fireplace, sending out radiating warmth and the nostalgic smell of woodsmoke. They sat close enough to feel the heat on their skin and faces, allowing it to drive away the late autumn chill in their bones. A waitress immediately approached and asked them if they would like to order drinks and/or appetizers.

“Are you done skiing for the day, hon?” Jake asked his wife.

“I am,” she confirmed. “I don’t think I’m quite up to trying night runs just yet.”

“Agreed,” Jake said with a nod. Since they would not be skiing anymore, it was time to start building up a little therapeutic alcohol level to help with the aches and pains. He turned back to the waitress. “I’ll have one of those hot buttered rums. A double if you please.”

“Of course,” she said. “Would you like that made with glacier water or the pressed Washington apple cider?”

“The cider,” Jake said. “Definitely the cider.”

“Very good, Mr. Kingsley,” she said. “And for you, Mrs. Kingsley?”

“I’ll have the same,” she said.

“I will have those right out for you,” she promised. She then headed over to the bar.

Laura leaned back in her chair and looked out the window. “It really is pretty today,” she remarked. “I see now why Steve went on and on about the view from this place.” Steve was Stephen Williams, a multimillionaire real estate developer and one of Greg’s primary investors in the Oregon golf links project. Jake had played golf at the oceanfront resort with him and Greg about a month before—right after Jake had finally been able to shed the wrist splint on his broken hand—while Jake had been in Coos Bay to help finalize the mixing and mastering of Brainwash’s latest CD. Steve was a likable enough guy (for a second-generation rich prick, anyway) and Jake had mentioned to him out on the links that he and Laura were thinking about taking up skiing as a new hobby. As chance would have it, Steve’s investment group was one of the primary owners of Schweitzer Ski Resort. He had offered to set Jake and Laura up with a complete vacation package including lessons, five-star lodging at the resort’s hotel in the ski village, any and all equipment needed, and all meals and drinks comped if Jake would just allow him to publicize the visit for advertising purposes. Jake had agreed and now, here they were, enjoying the hospitality during their break between finishing Brainwash II and starting the recording of Ben, Ted, Phil, and Lenny’s debut CD in early January.

“It is impressive,” Jake agreed. “Especially from the top of the run.”

Though they had been here for four days now, this was the first day the sky had not been overcast and spitting snow flurries at them. It was now a brilliant blue, the sun shining brightly (though not making it very warm up here at 4700 feet of elevation, and certainly not up at the top of the lifts, which was 6400 feet) and letting them see the entire landscape below. The town of Sandpoint was spread out from the base of the mountain to the shore of the lake. The lake itself was a cobalt blue, darker and richer in hue than the sky, except along the edges, where ice had formed and would not melt until spring. A long roadway bridge paralleled by a railway bridge could be seen crossing one of the arms of the lake and Jake could even see the airport where he had landed after the ninety-minute flight from Cypress airport, where the couple had stayed with Jake’s parents for a few days prior to embarking on the ski trip. The Avanti was now parked in a rented hangar at that airport.

They admired the view until the waitress brought their drinks over. They then turned to face each other over the table, using the beverages to warm their cold hands.

“It’s been fun spending all this time with you,” Laura told him.

He smiled. “Yes, it has been,” he agreed. Since Laura had flown back from Poland for the TSF back in late September, they had been together at some point every day and had slept in the same bed every single night. Some of those nights had been spent in Las Vegas, some in Los Angeles, a few in their home in Oceano, a few in Cypress, most in the house KVA owned in Coos Bay, and now, here halfway up Schweitzer Mountain in northern Idaho just 45 miles south of the Canadian border. The constant togetherness had allowed them to reconnect with each other and realize how much they actually liked being together.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Z’s offer,” she said.

“Yeah?” he asked. Bobby Z and Dexter Price, his primary saxophonist, had just completed a new release that was due to hit the shelves in late January. And, of course, a nationwide tour, starting in Florida and working its way through the south for the first leg, would follow right behind the release. Dexter and Z enjoyed a rich and productive professional relationship but a volatile and occasionally toxic personal relationship. In keeping with their usual pattern, the two of them had broken up shortly after the new CD had been mastered and had mutually agreed that touring together was not an option—again. And, as had been the case with the last CD, Laura had been invited to take up touring duties as the sax player. If she accepted the offer—she still had not made up her mind about it—she would need to report to the rehearsal warehouse on December 10.

“I don’t want to do it,” she said now.

“No?” Jake asked. “How come?”

“Several reasons,” she said. “A big one is that Squiggle will be the trumpet player again and I think it would be ... you know ... awkward, not to mention that I don’t want you worrying constantly about my being out there with him.”

“I’m not worried about that at all,” Jake said casually, though this was a bit of a white lie. Though he trusted his wife, she had admitted to having feelings for Squiggle in the past and to the two of them sharing a certain ‘chemistry’ between them. He did not believe that she would actually act upon that chemistry—especially now that she had found a viable relief valve for her sexual frustration—but the thought of them touring together for months was still more than a little disconcerting; especially in light of Laura’s revelation that she knew Squiggle would act upon his feelings for her without compunction if given the chance.

“That’s just one reason,” Laura said. “The biggest one is that I just don’t want to go back out on tour. I don’t want to have to report to rehearsal every day, I don’t want to have to learn new material right now, and, mostly, I do not want to go back out on the road anytime soon. I loved having the experience of being a traveling musician. I love stepping up on stage and playing for people and having them cheer me. But I’m not ready to go back to staying in hotel rooms night after night, to waking up in a different city every morning, and to being away from you. I just got back a few months ago. I’m not ready to go back out. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to go back out.”

Jake actually felt a strong measure of relief at her decision. In truth, he did not want to go for months without seeing her, touching her, enjoying her company, and regularly fucking her. They had proven to themselves and each other that their marriage was strong and could accommodate such absences, but that did not mean they enjoyed it.

“I understand,” he told her. “And I support you completely.”

“Are you sure?” she asked timidly. “I mean, if you think I should go out again, I will, but...”

He was shaking his head. “I do not think you should go out again,” he assured her. “Especially not with Z and his low-budget tour funding. You’ve been traveling with an A-lister. You don’t really want to go back to traveling in a bus from venue to venue and sleeping in cheap motels after flying private air and staying in luxury suites, right?”

“No,” she said immediately. “I’ve definitely been spoiled by touring with C.”

“Then it sounds like the decision is made,” he said. “The only question is whether or not it is a permanent decision.”

“A permanent decision?”

He nodded. “Are you ever going to want to tour again?” he asked. “Maybe for Celia’s next CD?”

“I don’t know,” she said after a moment’s thought. “It’s kind of a moot point right now, isn’t it? Neither you nor Celia is working on anything new right now.”

“That is true,” he agreed. “I’ll be far too busy getting Phil and the boys recorded and promoted to work up any new material of my own. And Celia seems like she just wants to take a little break and live a little before she starts a new project.”

“So, there is nothing really for me to decide on right now except the Bobby Z offer, right?”

“That’s right,” Jake said. “And it seems like you’ve already made you decision on Z.”

“I have,” she said. “I want to be with my husband now. I’ll help you and Celia out when you decide to start your next CDs, but I’ll hold off an any commitment beyond that.”

“Fair enough,” Jake said happily.

They drank two hot buttered rums apiece and then decided to go up to their third-floor suite, fuck, and then take a little nap before dinner. But when they got up to the room the message light blinking on the phone derailed their plans.

“I gotta pee first,” Laura told him.

“By all means,” Jake said, kicking off his ski boots. “I’ll just see what this message is about and meet you in bed.”

“Don’t make me wait too long,” she said with a smile. She stepped into the suite’s bedroom and began to undress.

Jake watched her until her shirt and bra came off and then reluctantly turned his back to her and sat down at the writing desk. He picked up the phone and pushed the message button, which automatically connected him to the hotel phone operator.

“How can I help you?” the nasally female voice enquired politely.

“This is Glenn Sutter,” Jake told her, giving his hotel name. “I understand you have messages for me.”

“Yes, we do, Mr. Sutter,” she said. Of course, she knew that Glenn Sutter was really Jake Kingsley—especially since Steve the real estate developer had made it well-known in media and publicity circles that Jake and Laura were current guests at the resort—but this was how the game was played. “I have a request from Pauline Kingsley in Los Angeles for you to call her as soon as possible on her private, home number.”

“Okay,” Jake said, wondering what this was about. “Thank you for the information.”

“Would you like me to connect you?” she asked.

“Uh ... sure,” Jake said. “That would be cool.” He recited the area code and number for her.

The phone beeped and booped in his ear for a moment and then began to ring. It was picked up on the second ring and his sister’s voice spoke. “Pauline Kingsley.”

“Hey, Paulie,” Jake said. “It’s me. Just got your message. What’s up?”

“Hey, little bro,” she said. “How goes the skiing?”

“It’s a little painful at times,” he admitted. “A lot of fun though.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try one of these days,” she said. “Obie used to be into it back in the days before me, but he lost interest after breaking his leg and his arm in Aspen.”

“I can see how that would dissuade one,” Jake said. “Anyway, what’s up? Do we have new shit hitting the fan, or do you have some good news for me?”

“I’m not exactly sure what kind of news this is,” she said. “Is Teach there?”

“Yeah, she’s in the other room changing. We just got back from the slopes.” The fact that what she was changing into was her birthday suit, he did not mention.

“I fielded a call earlier today at the studio,” she said. “It was from a gentleman by the name of Joseph Best ... the second.”

“Joseph Best the second?” Jake said, pondering that. Best was Laura’s maiden name. Joseph Best, he had been told a few times during their relationship with each other, was the name of her father, the staunch, conservative, rigidly orthodox Mormon who had disowned her back when she had taken up residence with Phil and stopped contributing ten percent of her meager income to the tithe. Joseph Best II would have to be one of her two brothers, likely the oldest, the one who she had once told him had not moved to Los Angeles from Idaho with the rest of the family and was not in a state of grace with the rest of the Bests for reasons that were never explained to him.

“He says he’s Teach’s oldest brother,” Pauline confirmed for him.

“What does he want?” Jake asked carefully.

“To speak to her,” she said. “He gave me no details as to what it was about, only that it was important.”

“I see,” Jake said slowly, his mind automatically going to the worst-case scenario. There must be a death or an impending death in her family. Why else would the man suddenly make contact after all these years of silence? He sighed as he thought about this, wondering how it was going to change their plans; specifically, their immediate-term plan of getting laid and their intermediate-term plan of continuing their much-needed vacation. True, Laura had not spoken to anyone in her family in years—they most certainly did not approve of her choice of husband and the lifestyle she lived with him—but family was family and they inherently had plan-derailing power. “Did he give a number he could be reached at?”

“He did,” Pauline said. “Do you have something to write with?”

“I do,” Jake said, picking up a pen from the writing desk and pulling the little complimentary tablet over. “Fire away.”

She read off a number that started with area code 208. He wrote it down and then read it back to her to confirm he had written it down correctly.

“All right,” he told his sister. “I’ll give her the message.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I need to do or if there is any help I can offer,” Pauline said. She had obviously gone to worst-case scenario as well.

“Will do,” he told her. “Talk to you later.”

He hung up the phone and then turned back toward the bedroom. A moment later, Laura emerged from the bathroom. She was now dressed in the aforementioned birthday suit and looked like she was quite ready to put Part A into Slot B. Jake felt the familiar tingle of arousal he always got when he looked at her in such a state. Though the bruise on her hip was purple and brown and dark blue and it was roughly the size and shape of the surface of a clothes iron, though she had a scattering of other bruises on her arms and legs, though her hair was in complete disarray from being worn under a ski helmet all day, she was still able to get his motor running. He considered whether or not it would be a marital faux pas to tell her about the call from her brother after they fucked, but she inadvertently beat him to the punch.

“What was the message about?” she asked.

“Uh ... well ... it was from your ... uh ... your brother,” he said.

Her eyes widened a bit. “My brother?” she asked. “Which one?”

“Joseph Best the second,” Jake said.

“Joey called me?” she asked, alarm starting to appear now. It seemed she was going worst-case scenario as well. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“I didn’t talk to him,” Jake said. “The message was from Paulie to let us know he wanted to talk to you. He left his number.”

“She has no idea what this is about?”

“No,” he said. “Just that he wants you to call him. The number has the Idaho area code.”

“He still lives in Pocatello where we grew up,” she said. “The last I heard from my mom he was still working for the city driving a garbage truck.”

“A garbage truck?” Jake asked.

“Somebody has to drive the garbage trucks,” she said. “He got the job way back in the late seventies, back when ... uh ... well...”

“Back when what?” Jake asked.

She sighed. “Back when he got his girlfriend pregnant and had to cancel his mission for the church and find a job to support them,” she said slowly, a clear expression of familial shame on her face.

“Wow,” Jake said. “That shit is kind of frowned upon by Mormons, isn’t it?”

“To put it lightly,” she said. “Mom and Dad didn’t disown him like they’ve done to me, but they never let him forget that he brought shame to the family. I don’t know for sure, but I strongly suspect the scandal is a big part of why Mom and Dad packed us up and moved us to Los Angeles. We did that about two months after the baby was born.”

“And your brother stayed behind,” Jake said, trying to wrap his mind around the story.

“He did,” she said. “Dad made it pretty clear that he wanted Joey and Sarah and Brian—that’s my nephew’s name—to stay behind. And so, they did. He and Sarah got married and got a place of their own and started their own life. Mom and Dad have stayed in touch with him over the years, but only on the phone, and usually only to berate him about how he turned out and to tell him he will never be allowed admission into the Kingdom of Heaven. None of us have been back to Pocatello since, and he’s never visited us in Los Angeles. I haven’t seen Brian since he was a tiny baby. He has to be—God, nearly twenty years old now. And they have two other kids too. I’ve never even met them at all.”

“All this because he knocked up some chick back when he was ... what, twenty years old himself?”

“He was nineteen then,” Laura said. “And Sarah was eighteen, just graduated high school. She was the daughter of the Bishop of our ward. The Bishop stepped down after it became known that Sarah was pregnant. He and the entire family disowned her. As far as I know, they’ve never spoken to her again. As for my family, we were forbidden to talk about Joey to anyone in the Los Angeles ward or even at school. Mom and Dad have lived in constant fear that the new ward would find out about him and the whole thing would start over again. At least ... they used to worry about it until I started being mentioned in the papers for living in sin with you. I’m pretty sure their shame of me overrode their shame of Joey.”

“Wow,” Jake said again, shaking his head. “This is a level of intolerance that I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around. Do your people really believe that disowning family just because they dipped their wick and a little miracle happened is what God wants?”

“They really believe that,” she assured him. “You can see now why I want nothing to do with that religion—or any other religion, for that matter.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Jake assured her. “I’ve always felt that way. Are you going to call him?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess I need to just so I can find out what this is about. It has to be bad news of some kind. I cannot think of a single good reason why Joey would want to talk to me now, after all these years.”

“Did he disown you as well?” Jake asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t talked to him at all since we moved to LA. Mom would give me updates on him from time to time, but they were always negative updates, I think as a warning of what happened when you went against the teachings of the church. And it’s sad, really, because Joey was the sibling I was closest to when I was little.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “He was my big brother,” she said whimsically. “I mean, Aaron was my big brother too, but he was only eighteen months older than me, and he and I never really got along all that well. Joey was eight years older. He used to babysit me and Aaron when Mom and Dad had to go to some church function or to work. He used to walk me and Aaron to school. He used to ride me on his handlebars around the neighborhood. He really liked having a baby sister, I think.” She giggled a little. “I helped him meet girls. They would flock to him when they saw that I was with him.”

Jake nodded reverently. Laura’s brother had employed a tried-and-true method of using a known chick-magnet to further his cause. And Laura must have been adorable as a youngster, with her red hair and her freckles and her cute face. They surely would have gathered in force around the big brother that showed such a nurturing instinct. Perhaps that was a factor in his attraction of the Bishop’s daughter. Hmm, Jake thought respectfully. A Bishop’s daughter. I ain’t never had me no Bishop’s daughter. This dude has done something in the sack that I haven’t managed to accomplish.

“It sounds like you had a good relationship with him,” Jake offered, deciding—wisely, no doubt—to keep his speculations and observations to himself.

“I really did,” she said, her expression melancholy. “Well ... I guess I’d better see what this is all about.”

“Here’s the number,” Jake said, picking it up and offering it to her.

“In a minute,” she said, turning back toward the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to put something on,” she said.

“Why?”

“I can’t talk to my brother while I’m naked,” she said simply. “Eww.”

“Okay then,” Jake said slowly.

She disappeared and then came back a few minutes later wearing a long, loose-fitting white t-shirt that came down to just above her knees. It was apparent to Jake that she had not put on a bra or even panties beneath it. Apparently, it was okay to talk to one’s brother with no panties or bra on as long as there was outer-wear involved.

“I think I’ll go get out of these clothes and take a quick shower,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said absently. She now had the piece of paper with Joseph II’s number on it. She was staring at it but making no move to pick up the phone.

He went into the bedroom and quickly stripped off his clothes, putting the ski wear in one place while putting his undergarments in the laundry bag. By the time he was done with this and walked back to the bathroom, Laura was on the phone and talking to someone. She had no expression on her face and he could not hear what she was saying. He left her alone and went to take his shower and take account of his own bumps, bruises, aches, and pains.

Once he was toweled off, he threw on a pair of sweatpants and walked back out into the sitting room. Laura was still at the writing desk, her expression one of deep thought. She did not look particularly upset.

“Well?” he asked her carefully. “Was it bad news?”

“No,” she said softly. “It was actually good news—kind of, anyway.”

“Do tell,” he said.

“He just had his first grandchild,” she said.

Jake raised his eyebrows a bit. “Grandchild?” he asked. “How old is he?”

“Just a little over two months old,” she said. “Everett Ryan Best. He was born on September 27, the first day of the TSF. Isn’t that wild?”

“Uh ... yeah ... very wild,” Jake said. “But ... uh ... I meant how old is your brother? Isn’t he a little young to be having grandchildren?”

“He’s thirty-nine,” she said. “And yes, he is a little young for grandkids, but he has one anyway. Brian, the baby he and Sarah had back when I was twelve years old, is now nineteen himself. He got his high school sweetheart pregnant back in January. They got married in April—on my birthday, if you can believe that—and she had the baby while we were at the TSF.”

“Wow,” Jake said for the third time that night. “Talk about family traditions.”

“I know, right,” Laura said. “He wanted me to know about Everett and he figured that Mom and Dad would not reach out to let me know about him, so he wanted to tell me himself.”

“He told your parents about it?” Jake asked.

“On several occasions,” she said. “He told them when he was told about the pregnancy back in March, back when Brian and his girlfriend got married in April, and again when Everett was actually born. He says that they are far from supportive and far from happy to be great grandparents. In fact, they told him not to call or contact them ever again.”

“You’re not giving me any warm fuzzies about your parents here, hon,” he told her. “I hope that wasn’t your intention.”

She smiled a little. “It was not,” she assured him. “In truth, I’ve lost what little respect I still had for them over the past ten minutes. Joey said it wasn’t even the out-of-wedlock pregnancy that upset them the most, it was the fact that Brian’s girlfriend is not a member of the church and has no plans of converting. Anyway, Joey apologized for not responding to the wedding announcement I sent him back when you and I got married. He says he was still trying to maintain a relationship with Mom and Dad back then and they told all the brothers and sisters not to acknowledge my existence or they would be dead to them too.”

“But he’s changed his mind about that?”

“Joey has, yes,” Laura said. “And I believe him. He says that the way Mom and Dad treated him and talked to him after Brian’s girlfriend got pregnant was beyond atrocious. Especially that last conversation after the baby was born and they were finally told that she wasn’t Mormon. Everyone else in the family has broken ties with him now. He said it made him realize what I had been going through all these years and made him want to reach out to me. He tried to call me and write to me at the address and number I had put on the wedding announcement—he kept it—but that was for the Nottingham Drive house and we don’t live there anymore. And then, just a few days ago, he read in the Pocatello newspaper that you and I were visiting up here at Schweitzer for a ski vacation. He tried to contact me directly at the hotel, but, of course, we’re not checked in under our real names. So, he dug a little deeper using the internet and found out that Pauline is my manager. He dug up her number and gave her a call. And that’s how he finally managed to get in touch.”

Jake nodded. “Nerdly would be proud of their use of the internet in that manner,” he said.

“I’m sure he would,” she said.

“Well then,” Jake said, “this has all been very interesting. I’m glad you were able to talk to your brother after all these years and learn about your new ... what is it ... grandnephew?”

“That would be the correct term,” she said.

“Grandnephew ... right,” Jake said. “And now, how about we find our way into the bedroom there and have ourselves a little...”

“Joey invited us to visit,” she interrupted.

He looked at her. “Did he now?” he asked carefully.

She nodded. “I told him that we’ll be here in Schweitzer for another two days but after that, we have no firm plans.”

“You told him that?”

“I did,” she said.

“Well ... I mean ... I thought that we were thinking about flying over to Jackson Hole and trying out the whole snowmobiling in Yellowstone Park thing.”

“We were just talking about that,” she said. “We haven’t actually booked anything.”

“That’s true,” Jake said, “but...”

“I’d like to go see him, sweetie,” she said quietly.

“You would?”

She nodded. “I would,” she said. “I’d like to see Brian and Sarah and Joey’s other kids. I’d like to meet my new grandnephew. Mostly, I’d like to reconnect with a part of my family. I don’t have any family right now, Jake. Can you appreciate what that is like?”

“No, not really,” Jake admitted. “But there’s a reason why you don’t have contact with your family, right? They’re intolerant and judgmental. It was they who broke contact with you, not the other way around.”

“I understand,” she said. “But now, Joey has reached out to me. I’d like to reach back and see where it goes.”

Jake suppressed a sigh. He had absolutely no desire to go to Pocatello, Idaho and meet members of Laura’s estranged Mormon family. On his scale of desirability, such a thing rated only slightly above traveling to Zaire during an Ebola outbreak. But ... his wife wanted to do it and she did not ask for much from him. “All right,” he said. “If you’d like to go, we’ll go.”

She smiled, clearly very happy about his decision. “Yay!” she said, clapping her hands a little. “I’ll call Joey back and let him know.”

“You do that,” he said, fighting (and generally succeeding) to keep the false enthusiasm in his tone. “I’m going to make a drink.”

“Make me one too,” she said, picking up the phone.

While she chatted excitedly with her brother, Jake mixed up a couple of rum and cokes at the bar. By the time he carried them back over, Laura had finished her conversation.

“He’s very excited to see us,” she told him.

“Uh huh,” Jake said. He was starting to wonder if this was about money. Maybe Joey II thought he could score himself a little “loan” from his now rich sister and her rich husband? This did not seem an unreasonable assumption at all. If it turned out to be the case, he decided right then and there, he would just give Laura’s brother whatever he asked for and write it off as gone. After all, the man drove a garbage truck for a living. How much would it even occur to him to ask for? Twenty grand, maybe? Fifty at the most?

“Thank you so much for this, sweetie,” Laura said, giving him a big kiss on the lips. “I told him we’ll be there sometime Thursday afternoon. Does that sound right? How long does it take to fly to Pocatello from here?”

“I haven’t looked into it yet,” Jake said. “I can’t imagine it’ll be more than two hours though.”

“So, if we check out of here around eleven, we should be able to get to Pocatello by three o’clock, right?”

“That sounds reasonable,” he allowed. “I’ll give you a more specific timeline when I look at the charts and run the numbers. In the meantime, I’ll get us a hotel room booked. I don’t suppose you know what they have in Pocatello for first-class accommodations?”

“We ... uh ... won’t need a hotel room,” Laura said, a little hesitantly.

Jake looked at her sharply. “We won’t?”

“No,” she said. “Joey wants us to stay with him while we’re there.”

“Stay with him?” Jake asked. “There is no reason to do that.”

“There is a reason,” she insisted. “We’re family. And in our family, family stays with family when visiting. To stay in a hotel room would be insulting.”

“Insulting?” Jake asked incredulously. “Who came up with that shit?”

“I don’t know who came up with it,” she said stubbornly, “but we’re going to do it. I will not be insulting to my brother and his family when they’ve reached out to me. He’s already told Grace and Chastity that we’ll be using their room while we’re there.”

“Who are Grace and Chastity?” Jake asked.

“My nieces,” she said. “They are fourteen and sixteen and they share a room. They will sleep on the couch while we’re there.”

“We’re going to sleep in a teenager’s room in a Mormon household and make the two teens in question sleep on a couch, just so we don’t insult your brother?”

“That’s right,” she said sternly. “That is exactly what we’re going to do.”

Jake sighed and nodded. “All right then,” he said, mentally putting the trip to Ebola-ravaged Zaire a little higher on the chart than Pocatello after all.

As it turned out, the flight from Sandpoint airport to Pocatello Regional Airport took ninety-four minutes from wheels-up to touchdown and it passed over some rather incredible scenery on the way. They bumped and bounced over a large expanse of snow-covered mountains that defined the terrain of northern Idaho and western Montana, mountains with steep canyons, breathtaking gorges, and lots of evergreen trees. As they got further into the main body of Idaho, they passed over the Snake River plain and could see the rugged waterway twisting and turning below, cutting deep gorges and canyons through the rock. Laura actually stayed awake for the entire flight, a rarity for her, though probably it was because of the impending meeting with her brother and not the scenery that kept her from her normal midair slumber.

The weather was clear and calm, though a frigid 28 degrees Fahrenheit, when Jake touched down on Runway 17 at 3:22 PM, local time. Snow berms could be seen off to the sides of the runway and taxiways as he made the journey to the general aviation terminal near the main airport entrance.

Three days, Jake thought sourly as he parked in front of the terminal and went through the engine shutdown checklist. I can put up with anything for three days, right? This thought did not give him much solace.

Jake left the aircraft locked but did not secure it to the tie-down rings. As had been the case in Sandpoint, he had rented a hangar to park the plane in during his stay so it would not be left out in the snow and sub-freezing temperatures. He and Laura walked into the terminal, which was virtually deserted except for the two people working the counter. While Laura worked on getting a shuttle to take her over to the passenger terminal and its rental car counter, Jake worked on securing the hangar and arranging for a couple of rampers to push the aircraft into the hangar for him. He was capable of performing this procedure himself, and he generally did so when home, but he did not have access to a tug here in Pocatello and their rules forbid him from simply borrowing or renting one.

Laura went off on her mission to secure the Jeep Cherokee that Jake had rented for the stay here (he always rented four-wheel drive vehicles in places where snow was a possibility). Jake went back out to the Avanti and fired up the engines once again. He taxied over to hangar row and stopped in front of number 27, positioning the plane so he was not blocking the access taxiway, but was aligned for easy, unpowered movement into the hangar. No sooner had he shut down than a Chevy pickup pulling a small trailer with the tug on it rolled in and parked just in front of him. The rampers had arrived.

Two young people got out of the Toyota. Both were dressed in jeans and thick beige sweaters with the name of the airport services department and their first names stenciled on them. Both wore fur hats that covered their ears. The tall skinny one had long hair that spilled out the bottom of his hat and a baby smooth face that was so effeminate in nature that Jake had to look at him carefully for a moment to determine that he was, in fact, a male and not a female. The short, chubby one, on the other hand, was unmistakably male. He had even longer hair but a full mustache and beard combo. He also had bad teeth. He was chewing on a large wad of tobacco and spitting the juice on the ground with disgusting frequency. Their names were Ron (the tall, skinny, effeminate one) and Dallas (the short, chubby, bearded one). They appraised Jake and his aircraft as he walked up to meet them.

“Goddamn,” Dallas proclaimed. “That’s one fuck of a plane you got there, dude.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “It gets me from place to place.”

“It’s an Avanti, right?” asked Ron. Even his voice was effeminate, but he seemed to know his airplanes.

“That’s right,” Jake said with a nod.

“I’ve heard about them,” Ron said, seemingly in awe. “Seen pictures on the internet too. But I’ve never actually seen one with my own eyes.”

“There’s not all that many of them around,” Jake said. “I got lucky and managed to score a used one.”

“It’s your plane?” Dallas asked him. “As in, you own it?”

“Well,” Jake said, “the bank still owns most of it currently but yes, it’s my plane.”

“Holy shit!” Dallas proclaimed. “What’s something like that cost?”

“An assload,” Jake assured him. “Anyway, you’ll be able to park it for me?”

“No problem,” said Ron. “Would you mind if I took a picture of it though?”

“Uh ... sure, why not?” Jake said with a shrug. “You have a camera with you?”

“Always,” Ron said. “I’m a photographer. Aviation is one of my favorite subjects. Let me just grab it out of the truck.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said with sincerity. After all, anything that delayed his trip to Laura’s brother’s house was okay in his book.

While Ron trotted back to the Chevy, Dallas was staring at Jake with an expression Jake knew well. Though Jake was still wearing his aviator sunglasses and had his own shoulder-length hair tucked up under a billed hat with ear flaps, the ramper was starting to realize who this rich guy with the fancy airplane actually was.

“Dude,” he said, the awe in his voice now quite apparent, “you’re ... you’re ... like Jake Kingsley, aintcha?”

“Yeah,” Jake said simply. He had learned over the years that denial in such a circumstance usually did not work. “Just popping in for a little visit to Pocatello.”

“I heard about that!” Dallas said.

“You did?” Jake asked, surprised.

“Fuck yeah! There was an article in today’s paper about how you and your old lady was gonna be visiting here. I didn’t really believe it, but goddamn!”

“That was in the paper?” Jake asked incredulously.

“Of course,” Dallas said. “This is a small fuckin’ town. Everyone knows your old lady grew up here. We’ve known that shit since you got married to her. Some reporter got word you were comin’ in so she could visit and they wrote an article about it. I heard the fuckin’ mayor is hopin’ to give you a tour of city hall or some shit like that. But then there’s a bunch of other people—Mormons, most of them—that want him to tell you and your old lady you ain’t welcome here because you’re a Satanist.”

“Wow,” Jake said, now placing this visit to Pocatello a few notches lower on his list of desirability. It was now ranked just below hanging out in summertime Baghdad during an ongoing bombing campaign that took out the electrical grid and all of the air conditioning.

Ron came trotting back over. He now had a battered looking Nikon 35-millimeter camera hanging from a strap around his neck.

“Dude!” Dallas said to him. “Do you know who this dude is?”

“No,” Ron said. “Who is he?”

“Jake Kingsley, dude! Can you believe that shit?”

Ron looked over at him, his expression neutral. “The singer, right?” He asked. “The one who snorts cocaine out of girls’ butt cracks?”

“I don’t really do much of that anymore,” Jake said.

“Probably a good idea,” Ron agreed. “I read in the paper that you might be here today. I guess that explains how someone your age can afford an Avanti. They didn’t say you’d be flying here in your own plane.”

“I guess your local reporters aren’t up to speed on celebrity stalking,” Jake said.

“I guess not,” Ron said. “Anyway, I’m gonna grab a few shots of the plane now if that’s all right.”

“Snap away,” Jake said.

“Dude!” Dallas said. “You gotta get a few shots of me and Jake together too. Is that cool, Jake?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s cool,” Jake said with a shrug. Being asked to pose for photos with someone was a depressingly common occurrence. He generally acquiesced as long as he did not have some pressing piece of business to attend to. It was all part of that ‘life we choose’ thing.

“All right,” Ron said, “but only a few. Getting film developed is not cheap, you know.”

And so, after taking about ten shots of the Avanti, capturing it from every angle, Ron then snapped a few of Jake and Dallas standing together in front of the aircraft and then to the side of it. Just as Jake started to feel they were finished, an obnoxiously blue Jeep Cherokee pulled up and parked just in front of the hangar next to Jake’s. The door opened and Laura stepped out. She was looking quite cute in her winter parka, her jeans, and her white, ear covering beanie with the little tassel ball on top. Both rampers became tongue-tied as Jake introduced them to her.

“Can we get a shot of me with both of you?” asked Dallas.

“I’ve only got three more shots on this roll,” Ron complained.

“Then use them up right now,” Dallas said, “and I’ll go in halves with you developing the roll.”

“Okay,” Ron said. “I guess that’s fair, as long as Jake’s wife is okay with it.”

“Sure,” Laura said good-naturedly. “In front of the plane?”

“Yeah, that’s a good spot,” Dallas said.

They stood in front of the plane, Laura in the middle, Jake to her right with his arm around her waist, Dallas on her left, looking awkward and making a point not to stand too close to her—as if he were afraid he might get burned if he accidentally touched her. Ron took two shots and then hesitated.

“You know,” he said. “Maybe I could be in the last shot.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jake said. “Why not?”

“Here, Dallas,” Ron said, stepping over. “Take the shot for me.”

Dallas was agreeable enough. He listened to Ron’s explanation about how to take the shot—basically just point the camera and then push the button though Ron managed to make it sound more complicated than that—and then walked over and stood on Laura’s left. Laura and Jake smiled for the camera. Ron did as well, showing a well-taken-care-of set of teeth. Dallas pushed the button and the camera cycled once and then began automatically rewinding the film cartridge.

Once the camera was done, Ron stowed it back in the truck. He and Dallas went to work and moved the plane into the hangar, doing it easily, with the skill of people who performed such a task a dozen or more times every day. They then unloaded all of the luggage from the plane and stowed it in the back of the Cherokee.

“Thanks, guys,” Jake told them when they were done. He gave each of them a twenty-dollar bill for their trouble. They seemed very appreciative of the gratuity and were soon driving off in their Chevy again.

“All right,” Jake said. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“We have the address,” Laura said.

“Yes, we do,” Jake agreed. “Do you know how to get there?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve never heard of the street before. And when I lived here, I was still too young to drive so I never really learned how to get around.”

“I see,” Jake said.

“I can call Joey on my cell and get directions,” she suggested.

“That’s okay,” Jake said with a sigh, picturing the thought of his navigationally challenged wife trying to relay secondhand directions to him on the fly. “We’ll just find a local gas station and buy ourselves a map of Pocatello. I’ll be able to get us there with that.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” she agreed. She was quite aware of her shortcomings in this area of life as well.

It turned out that Joey’s house was not that far from the airport. He and his family lived in north Pocatello, in a well-established neighborhood full of postwar single stories on decent sized lots. Most of the lawns were covered in snow with shoveled walkways and there were small berms built up in the gutters where the plows had pushed it. Best Manor was on a corner lot and therefore had a bit more land to play with than most of the other houses. The structure itself was quite small by Jake’s standards—even his pre-fortune and fame standards—with peeling gray paint and a roof that looked like it could use some major repairs. An old Ford F-150 4x4 that had undoubtedly been built during the Carter administration was parked at the curb and a Reagan era Ford Bronco was in the driveway. Both were covered in road grime and had rust spots in various places. A boat on a trailer that was covered with canvas tarping sat next to the Bronco, leaving just enough room for one more vehicle to fit.

“This is the place,” Jake said, spotting the address numbers next to the garage door.

“Looks like it,” Laura agreed. “Pull into the driveway.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He had been brought up to believe it rude to park in someone’s driveway unless specifically directed to do so.

“I’m sure,” she said. “In our family, guests always park in the driveway.”

“Okay then,” he said doubtfully. He wheeled in and put the vehicle in park and then set the parking brake. He took a deep breath. He was a little nervous about meeting Laura’s family for a reason he could not quite put his finger on. It was a little like stage fright before a show, but without the anticipation of the dopamine and endorphin release that would follow.

They stepped out onto the driveway and headed along the recently shoveled walkway, their breath puffing out visibly in the cold air. The front porch had a mat that featured two angels playing horns on either side of the words “WELCOME FRIENDS”. The mat appeared to be at least as old as the Bronco.

“I’m a little nervous about this,” Laura said as they stood in front of the door.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Me too.”

She smiled at him and then knocked gently on the door. The sound of footsteps from within appeared and then grew louder. The doorknob turned and the door opened, letting a blast of warm air from inside wash over them. Standing in the doorway was what Jake assumed was Laura’s brother, though he looked nothing like what Jake had been anticipating. He had expected a clean-cut, serious-looking man, probably balding, probably wearing a white dress shirt and dark pants. Instead, he found a stocky man, about four inches shorter than himself, with a thick mop of light brown hair, an unruly mustache, and a carelessly trimmed goatee. He was wearing a pair of faded denim jeans and a loose-fitting pullover shirt that was stretched a little tight over a moderate-sized beer belly. He looked at the two of them, his expression one of nervousness as well.

“Joey?” Laura asked questioningly. “Is that really you?”

A smile formed on his face. “Little Bit,” he said, using a nickname for her that she had not heard in many years. “Yeah, it’s really me. A little older and fatter than you remember, huh?”

“Oh my God,” she said. “It’s so good to see you again!” She held her arms out to him. He stepped to her and they embraced warmly, holding the hug for a considerable amount of time. When they finally broke apart, Laura had tears running down her face and Joe II looked like he was desperately trying to keep his own tears in check.

Once she had herself under control, she introduced Jake. “This is my husband, Jake. Jake, Joey.”

Jake shook hands with him. Joey’s grip was good, strong, but not overwhelming. “It’s nice to meet you,” Jake told him.

“Likewise,” Joey said. “I’m so glad the two of you were able to come visit.”

“Me too,” Jake lied, though he did it smoothly and professionally.

“Come in, come in,” Joey offered, waving them to the door. “Meet the rest of the family.”

“Sure,” Jake said. “Is our stuff safe out in the car for now?”

“It’s safe,” Joey assured him. “This is a good neighborhood. Probably not like where you two live, but safe all the same.”

“We don’t actually live in a neighborhood,” Laura told him as they entered the front door. “We live on top of a hill all by ourselves.”

“No kidding?” he said, seemingly impressed by this notion. “It must be nice.”

“It really is,” Laura said.

“Although we do spend a lot of time living in hotel rooms as well,” Jake pointed out.

“Yeah,” Laura said sourly. “Especially this last year.”

The living room was not huge, but it was clean and well-decorated. There was a sectional couch that sat along two of the walls and a recliner. A thirty-six-inch television set—currently tuned to the Oprah Winfrey Show and muted—was mounted on the wall. There were several mounted deer and elk heads. There was a locked glass cabinet that contained six rifles, a shotgun, and a variety of pistols. The paintings on the wall were all outdoors themed, with scenes of lakes and rivers and waterfalls. There were three people in the room, all of them female, all of them looking nervous to varying degrees.

Sarah was Joey’s wife—the former Bishop’s daughter. She was short, a bit on the chunky side, but still pretty. Her hair was dark blonde in color and she wore glasses. She was dressed in jeans and a button-up blouse. When she saw Laura, her face lit up.

“Oh, good lord, Little Bit,” she said. “The last time I saw you, you were just a little girl. Look at you! You’re beautiful!”

“Thanks,” Laura said, smiling, stepping forward for a hug. “You look great too.”

“I look like what I am,” Sarah said. “A fat mom.”

They hugged warmly and then Jake was introduced. “It’s nice to meet you, Jake,” she told him. Her voice was considerably more reserved than it had been when she was speaking to Laura and Jake was catching a vibe of watchfulness coming off of her.

“Nice to meet you as well,” Jake told her, shaking her hand demurely.

The other two people in the room were teenage girls, both of whom looked considerably more wholesome and innocent than the LA teens that Jake was used to seeing. Joey made the introductions to both Jake and Laura since she had never met them before. Grace was the older of the two, her hair red, though a softer shade than Laura’s copper-colored red. She was full-figured, tall, and very pretty. She was blushing as she shook Jake’s hand and seemed unable to speak at all. The younger girl was Chastity. She was blonde, like her mother, and more petite, like Laura. Her facial features showed a definite family resemblance to Laura and overall, she was very pretty as well. She was not as shy as her sister.

“Dad says that you guys know Celia Valdez,” she said.

“That’s right,” Jake said. “Celia and I and Laura are all good friends. Laura was on tour with Celia and played saxophone for her during her concerts and on two of her CDs.”

“That is so cool,” Chastity said, looking at her aunt with new respect now. “I love Celia’s music.” And then, as an afterthought: “Your music is pretty good too, Jake.”

“Thank you,” Jake said with a smile. It was always good to be validated by the teen demographic.

“Where’s Brian?” Laura asked.

“He and his family will be here for dinner,” Joey said. “He’s at work right now. He has a job as an apprentice meat-cutter down at the butcher shop in old town. He doesn’t make much now, but it’s a good paying profession once he learns the trade.”

“Interesting,” Jake said, with sincerity. It had not occurred to him that there were still butcher apprentices in the modern world.

“We’ll get to meet the baby?” Laura asked.

“Of course,” Joey said. “That’s the purpose of the visit.”

Is it really? Jake thought cynically as he heard the words. Or is it that you need some money to buy a new car or to put a new roof on the house? His plan remained unchanged. If Laura’s family asked for cash, he would simply give them whatever they asked for. Anything to get this trip over with so they could go back to their normal lifestyle.

“All right then,” Joey said. “Now that we’ve got the introductions made, how about a beer?”

Jake looked at him, positive he had heard the man incorrectly. “A beer?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Joey said. “You just flew in from up north. What did that take you? A couple of hours?”

“About that,” Jake said.

“I like to have a cold one after I travel,” Joey said. “What do you say?”

“Uh ... sure,” Jake said. “I’d love a beer, but ... uh ... I thought you were ... you know ... Mormon.”

Joey laughed. It was a pleasant laugh that had a lot in common with Laura’s. “We’re what you call Jack Mormons, Jake,” he told him.

“Jack Mormons?” Jake asked. He had never heard that term before.

“It means we believe in the Heavenly Father and were raised Mormon, but we don’t really follow all of the ... you know ... the rules, like not drinking beer or coffee, and like giving ten percent of our hard-earned money to the church.”

“You don’t participate in the tithe?” Laura asked, seemingly more surprised by this than the fact that her brother drank beer.

“Are you gonna start lecturing me like Mom used to, Little Bit?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m just surprised. I haven’t given money to the church since I moved out on my own.”

“Ten percent is a lot of goddamn money,” Joey said. “And if it means I’m not a member in good standing, that I’m not welcome at worship services, so be it. I like to spend my Sundays watching football and drinking beer anyway.”

Jake smiled again, his respect for Laura’s brother creeping up a bit. “I like the way you think, Joseph,” he said.

“Please, call me Joey,” he said. “Mom is the only one who calls me Joseph.”

“Joey it is,” he said. “And I would love to have a beer.”

The beer turned out to be Budweiser in the can, something that Jake had not consumed in well over ten years now. And he was not offered a glass to pour it into. Oh well, he thought, pulling the pop top and releasing the pressure, when in Pocatello, do as the Pocatellons (or whatever they call themselves). Though it was almost completely tasteless compared to the brews he normally drank (the strongest flavor was the metallic aftertaste caused by the can itself), it did bring back rather nostalgic memories of high school kegger parties and after-gig drinking during the club days at D Street West. Laura, Sarah, and Joey all had one as well. They sat on the sectional as they drank, putting the cans down on old and mismatched wooden coasters. Grace and Chastity joined them, sitting in the recliners and drinking cans of Pepsi.

“You’re still working for the city?” Laura asked her brother.

“That’s right,” he said. “Coming up on twenty years workin’ for Pocatello waste management. It’s a much easier job these days than it was when I started.”

“The automation?” Jake asked.

“Yep,” he confirmed. “Back when I started, there was three of us to a truck. The senior guy got to drive and the two juniors had to heft every can from the curb by hand and dump it in the back. We could only do two hundred stops a day workin’ like that. Then, back in 88, we got the trucks with the arm. Since then, one man workin’ all by himself can easily do four hundred a day and never have to move his butt from the seat. Of course, that comes with a price.” He patted his large belly. “You get fat and you get hemorrhoids and you get back problems.”

“That’s too bad,” Jake said.

Joey simply shrugged. “It is what it is,” he said. “The city pays a decent wage—enough we were able to buy this house and Sarah didn’t have to work when the kids were little. We have good benefits and retirement too.”

“Those are good things to have,” Jake said, though he really could not relate.

“Enough about garbage,” Sarah said. “Tell us the story about how you two met. We’ve all seen the gossip column stories. Tell us how it really was.”

Laura handled this part. She told the tale of how she had played in the jazz band in college and one of her former bandmates—Ben Ping—called her up out of the blue years later and asked her if she might be interested in auditioning for Celia Valdez. She told of the audition and how she had wowed them with her sax at first, only to disappoint them when she tried to play Celia’s material.

“I was a bit of a music snob back then,” she admitted.

“Back then?” Jake said, raising his eyebrows up.

“Shut up, you,” she said, slapping at him playfully. “I’m nowhere near as bad now.”

He smiled and waved his hand in the see-saw fashion, earning himself another playful slap.

“Anyway,” she said, “Jake and Celia were working closely together on their CDs. Jake was playing the guitar parts and mostly directing the sessions. We didn’t get along too well at first, did we, sweetie?”

“We did not,” he agreed. “She thought I was a Satan-worshipping, girlfriend abusing, cocaine from the butt crack sniffing freak.”

“Don’t forget that I thought your music sucked too,” she added helpfully.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Almost forgot about that part.”

“Did you really snort cocaine from a girl’s butt crack?” asked Chastity.

“Chase!” Sarah said, aghast. “You don’t ask a guest something like that!”

“It’s okay,” Jake said. “No, I did not snort cocaine from a girl’s butt crack. Like the Satan worshiping and the girlfriend beating and most of everything else I’ve been accused of over the years, the media pretty much fabricated that on their own.”

“Oh ... I see,” Chastity said, apparently disappointed by Jake’s little white lie.

“Anyway,” Laura went on, “I finally learned to drop my music snobbery and get into what Celia was producing. Once that happened, I kind of became one of the team. I learned that Jake really was a talented musician and a good guy to work with. We became friends as we worked together in the rehearsal studio day in and day out. And then, when we went up to Oregon to actually start the recordings, that’s when we started to get closer and started having romantic feelings for each other.”

“It happened gradually?” Sarah asked.

“In a way,” she said. She told of how she had come out to the hot tub one night and found Jake already in there. She joined him (“you don’t know how close I came to not getting in there with you,” she shared with a giggle) and that led to the musical challenge in which they listened to each other’s favorite music and tried to get into it. And then came the trip home to visit her ‘fiancé, Dr. Dave the dentist. She did not share that he was married, just that he was neglectful and unreliable and that he had bowed out of a plan to visit his timeshare and had left town on other business without even notifying her in advance. And if they had read or heard about the articles that came out after the gossip rags had broken the story about Laura and Dr. Dave, they prudently did not mention it.

“He sounds like a dick,” Chastity opined.

“Chase!” Sarah admonished. “Your language!”

“Sorry,” she said, seeming anything but.

“That’s actually a good word for Dave,” Laura told her. “That’s exactly what he was. And it was Jake who was able to open my eyes to that realization.” She then told about the need for a soprano saxophone that was only available in Portland, about the flight there to acquire one, and about the heart-to-heart talk they had on the flight back to Coos Bay. And then she told about them sharing their first kiss in the hot tub later that night. She left out the part about how that first kiss had come about because she had accidentally gotten a feel of the erection he had sprung from having her in close proximity. She also left out the part about how they had gone upstairs and gotten naked together and fucked for the first time a little more than twenty minutes later.

“And that was when we fell in love,” Laura finished up. “During the recording of South Island Blur.”

“That’s a beautiful story,” Sarah said, beaming.

“And he proposed to me in that very same hot tub three years later while we were watching the sunset,” she said.

Chastity and Sarah both nearly melted when they heard this.

“And you said yes right away?” Chastity asked.

“Uh ... yes, of course,” Laura said, fudging the truth a bit. In actuality, a little bit of discussion had to be done first—discussion about lesbian bartenders and female groupies out on tour—but it had been that same night, so that could be construed as ‘right away’.

At this point, Sarah declared that she needed to get dinner started. Jake and Laura both offered to help but she enlisted the two girls instead. Joey got them all another round of canned Budweiser and they resumed their places.

“Who do you think will be going this year, Jake?” Joey asked.

“Going?” Jake asked. “Going where?”

“To the Super Bowl,” he said. “I think this just might be the year that Green Bay goes all the way. They’re my team, you know and I’m here to tell you, it’s been a challenge the last twenty years, but Favre has been on fire this season. And the defense! I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about their defense.”

“Uh ... well ... the fact of the matter is, Joey, that I don’t really follow football that much.”

He looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t follow football?” he asked. “What are you, a communist or something?”

“No, not a communist,” he said. “I used to like the Oakland Raiders back when I was a kid. They were the closest pro team to Heritage, where I grew up. But ever since I got into music and made it my life, I just haven’t had the inclination to follow sports. I’ve just been too busy.”

“Hmm,” Joey said. “You don’t watch any sports then?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I watch the Olympics when they’re on,” he said.

“And you’re not a faggot?” he asked.

Laura chuckled. “I can assure you, Joey, he is most definitely not gay.”

“I see,” Joey said. “Well, what about hunting and fishing? You do that?”

Jake shook his head. “Never been hunting in my life,” he said. “I went out deep sea fishing with Matt Tisdale a few times back in the Intemp days—that was kind of fun—and my dad has recently gotten into stream and lake fishing and wants to teach me how to do it, but again, there’s that issue of not having much time. This is actually the first real vacation Laura and I have had in quite some time.” And I’m spending a good chunk of it here, in a tiny little house with a man who just accused me of being a communist faggot.

“Have you ever even shot a gun before?” Joey asked next.

“I never have,” Jake admitted. “My dad was an ACLU lawyer and my mom was a symphony musician. We didn’t have guns in the house.”

“Never fired a gun before,” he said in wonder. “You’re not one of those anti-gun nuts though, are you?”

“No, not really,” he said, doing a little truth-fudging again. In reality, he believed that letting everyone who wanted a gun have one had been a mistake back in the beginning, but there wasn’t much that could be done about it at this point—not with a couple hundred million of the things circulating around the country. He was pretty sure that Joey would not be sympathetic to that point of view, however, and he did not want to debate the issue upon first meeting the man.

“Maybe we’ll go hit the range while you’re here then,” Joey suggested. “I’ve got two AR-15s, an AK-47, and a .44 Magnum in addition to all my hunting rifles. You up for that?”

“Uh ... yeah, sure,” Jake said, actually finding the idea of firing guns appealing on some level. “I’d appreciate it.”

“We’ll do it then,” Joey promised. “And then, when we’re done, I’ll teach you how to clean them.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said.

After finishing their second beers, Jake, Laura, and Joey went out to the Jeep and carried in all of their luggage.

“I see you brought your guitar with you,” Joey said as he hefted the case.

“Yeah,” Jake said with a sigh. “I was hopeful about maybe working on some new material while we’re traveling, but ... well ... so far I haven’t even opened the case a single time.”

“If playing your guitar is your job,” Joey suggested, “then maybe you shouldn’t be bringing it with you. I don’t go looking to drive a garbage truck around when I’m down in the city or out in the woods.”

“That is a good point,” Jake had to admit.

The room they were to stay in was tiny, smaller than the smallest guest bedroom in any of their houses. There were two twin beds and a dresser. There were a few posters on one wall—Celia Valdez was one, New Kids on the Block was another—and some watercolor paintings of landscapes and animals on another. There was a single window that opened out to the back yard. A bunch of stuffed animals were piled at the foot of one of the beds.

“I’m sure it’s not quite what you’re used to,” Joey said, “but it’s a place to lay your head.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jake said, wondering if they would be able to push the beds together. They sure as hell were not going to both fit in one of them. He then pointed to the watercolors. “Who did that?”

“Gracie painted those,” Joey said proudly. “She’s always been real good with sketching and drawing and painting.”

“They’re very well done,” Jake said.

“They should be,” he said. “She spends about all of her free time working on them. She’s very shy, our Gracie, as I’m sure you noticed.”

“I did,” Jake said. Grace had, in fact, not said a single word in their presence since they arrived.

“This is how she expresses herself,” he said. “I guess there’s worse ways to find an outlet, huh?”

Jake agreed that this was very true.

Joey’s oldest child, Brian, arrived a few minutes later, his new wife and baby with him. Brian looked like a younger version of his father. He had brown hair, wore a mustache and a goatee, and was dressed in jeans and a pullover shirt. His wife, Julie, was a tiny little thing, even smaller than Laura. She had reddish-brown hair and a pretty face. She too wore jeans and a pullover shirt. In her arms was a baby boy dressed in a warm, cozy onesie. Everett was his name and he had a dusting of copper hair that was almost as bright as Laura’s.

“Oh my god!” Laura exclaimed when she saw Brian walk into the room. “Look at you! All grown up and married now. The last time I saw you, you weren’t even walking yet!”

“I don’t actually remember you,” Brian said apologetically. “I’ve heard about you all my life, especially these last few years.”

“I used to change your diapers,” Laura said with a giggle. “Come here, give me a hug.”

He gave her a hug and then introduced his wife and child. Laura immediately asked to hold the baby and Julie handed him over without hesitation. Only then did it occur to Laura to introduce her husband to the newcomers.

“Nice to meet you,” Jake said, shaking hands with Brian.

“It’s incredible to meet you, Jake,” he said. “I’ve listened to you all my life. I’ve known that you were part of our family—you know, in a way—but I never thought I’d get to actually be face to face with you.”

“I’m just an ordinary person like everyone else,” Jake assured him. “Laura too.”

“He does put his pants on two legs at a time though,” Laura said, getting a laugh from all assembled.

“You’re not supposed to tell people that,” Jake replied.

Jake then shook hands with Julie. She did not seem quite as awed to be in his presence as her husband, but she did seem intimidated to some degree. Jake eased her mind with a little humor. “I think you might want to make it clear to Laura that she does have to give the baby back at some point.”

“No way,” Laura said. “He’s mine now. Look at these chubby little legs!”

They ate dinner a few minutes later, all of them gathering around the dining room table. Sarah had prepared a pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a medley of roasted squash. There were fresh baked biscuits to go with everything. There was no wine to pair with the meal. Instead, everyone except the teens drank Budweiser from the can. Before they dug in, everyone bowed their heads and Grace said Grace, her voice hesitant and unsure, but she finally was able to spit it out. And then they ate. Jake found the food to be absolutely delicious. He had seconds of everything, including the Budweiser.

After eating, all of the females, including Laura, collected the plates and went into the kitchen to start cleaning up. None of the males made any move to help and when Jake asked if he could, he was given some strange looks and firmly told “no”.

“Okay then,” he said, nodding his head.

The men retreated back to the living room. Jake took his turn holding little Everett, who really was a cute and chubby baby. He had some experience with the procedure, as he’d done his time holding Tabby and Kelvin when they had been this age. For his part, Everett seemed to enjoy being in Jake’s arms and did not fuss.

After the women finished the cleanup, Joey asked Jake if he was up for a little smoke out in the backyard.

“Uh ... it depends on what you mean by that,” Jake replied.

“Cigars,” Joey said. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“I wasn’t sure,” Jake said. “Sure, I’ll have a smoke.” He turned to Laura. “How about you, hon?”

Again, the strange looks were cast upon him.

“Uh ... no,” Laura said. “I’ll sit this one out. You go hang out with the boys. I’ll stay in here with the girls.”

“Oh ... okay,” he said. Interesting.

He, Joey, and Brian put on their sweaters and walked out into the large back yard. There was a decent sized patio out here with an overhead cover. A large firepit was the centerpiece. The makings of a fire had already been laid out. Joey used a lighter to get the fire started and then they all sat down in chairs around it, cold Budweisers in their hands. Joey produced a package labeled Backwoods and pulled three small cigars out of it. He passed them around. Jake looked at his dubiously and then took a quick sniff. It smelled like a cigar—not like one of the Havanas that he habitually smoked, but a cigar, nonetheless. He took the lighter when it was passed to him and fired up. It wasn’t bad.

“I’ve got to ask you, Jake,” Brian said as they puffed away and drank their beer.

“What do you have to ask me?” Jake replied.

“Did you really snort cocaine out of a girl’s butt once?”

Joey just shook his head. Jake gave his standard answer to the question, the same he’d given Chastity earlier. Brian, like his sister, seemed disappointed.

They sat out there for more than an hour, drinking beer, smoking Backwoods cigars, and talking. Jake was surprised to find that he was actually enjoying the experience. Laura’s brother and nephew were good conversationalists and had interesting points of view on such things as politics and popular entertainment. Both were very conservative and saw things through that prism. They were of the opinion that Slick Willie was the worst president since Jimmy Carter and that his policies would bring about the ruination of the American way of life. They were of the opinion that coming off the gold standard back in the day was what had caused all of the nation’s financial problems. Jake did not agree with much of what they were saying, but they presented their points articulately and with some intelligence.

“Does anyone in the family play music?” Jake asked at one point.

“Well ... yeah,” said Joey. “Little Bit does.”

“I mean besides her,” Jake clarified.

“Not as far as I know,” Joey said.

“Interesting,” Jake said.

“How so?” asked Brian.

“Well, I’ve always kind of assumed there was a genetic component to musical talent,” he said.

“A genetic component?” Joey asked.

“That’s right,” Jake said. “You see, my parents were both musicians to some degree. My mom was a professional violinist and my dad plays a pretty mean guitar himself, though he gave up on doing it professionally when he got into law school. Both myself and my sister have natural musical abilities; me as a singer, songwriter, guitarist, and producer, Pauline as a singer. And my best friend, Nerdly, who played the piano with us during the Intemperance days, his mom was a professional pianist as well. And Matt Tisdale, the Intemperance guitarist, his dad used to play the oboe and was quite good at it. So, I kind of assumed that Laura’s natural ability as a sax player must have come from some of those genes.”

“Genes don’t have anything to do with it, Jake,” Joey said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Laura’s always just liked music, ever since she was a baby. And when she picked up the saxophone back in school, she took right to it as if she was made to blow the horn.”

“What are you suggesting then?” Jake asked.

“Talent like yours, like Laura’s is not genetic at all. It comes from God.”

“From ... God?”

“That’s right,” Joey said. “God gave her that talent for a reason: so it would shape her life for her and guide her on her path. And look what it did. Because she had that talent, she met you and fell in love with you, and you her. Without that talent, you two never would have met. What you’re dealing with here is God’s plan.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully. “An interesting point,” he had to admit.

Two days later, Ron Standish, the ramp worker from Pocatello Regional Airport, drove to a local Walgreens after work and picked up the prints of the pictures he had taken on his last roll of 35mm film. He took them home to his little apartment just west of downtown. While he heated up two Hot Pockets in his microwave and waited for them to cool down to something less than the temperature of the sun inside, he looked through the pictures.

Most were of aircraft that had flown into and out of the airport. Some of the shots were taken on the ground, a few taken of them landing or taking off. The second half, however, were the shots he had taken of Jake Kingsley’s Avanti and of Dallas and Jake and Jake’s wife, the local girl who had done well for herself. He had had duplicates made, as well as digital copies on a CD, so he sorted out the ones that would go to Dallas and set them aside. He then began to flip through again, paying particular attention to the ones with the Avanti in them. It was such an incredibly beautiful aircraft! And he had stood right next to it, close enough to touch!

He decided that the shots of the Avanti were just too good not to share. He put the hard copies of the prints back in the little envelope and took out the CD. He carried the CD over to his computer desk—Ron spent a lot of time on the computer—and put it inside the CD-ROM drive. While it spun up, he went and retrieved his Hot Pockets and a can of Pepsi. He carried the food and drink back to his desk and sat down. After taking a tentative bite of Hot Pocket number 1 and finding it was still up there near Venus temperature, he opened up his file manager and used it to navigate to the CD-ROM. He transferred copies of all the photos to his hard drive and then opened the photo editor to look at the digital versions. One by one, he admired the shots again. The ones with just the Avanti in them, he renamed using the word Avanti with 01, 02, etc. as the differentiator. And then, almost as an afterthought, he added the one with he, Jake, and Laura in it. He converted all the renamed shots to jpeg format and put them in a separate folder. He then opened up his email server and pulled up his contacts list.

Ron was a member of an online photography club that communicated with each other by group email. He was known and even a little admired in this group of 312 enthusiasts for his aviation pictures. He opened a new email and then used his group setting to address it to all 312 members of the photography group, none of whom he had actually met in person. In the subject box, he wrote: Jake Kingsley and his wife visit Pocatello Airport. He then wrote the body of the email.

I was working the ramp the other day at Pocatello Airport and who should fly in but Jake Kingsley and his wife Laura in their Avanti-180! Such a beautiful aircraft! They were nice enough to let me take a few pictures of the plane and one with me standing with them! Very nice people! I’ll try to catch a shot of the plane taking off when they leave. Hope I’ll be there for it!

He attached the jpegs in his folder to the email. This took a while as he could only afford dialup internet access, but finally, the email was ready. He pushed the send button, sending copies of Jake, Laura, and himself out over the internet in a format that could easily be sent onto others and attached to other files.

And soon, this is exactly what would happen.