Circles Collide

Chapter 23: Negotiations and Disclosures

Los Angeles, California

March 23, 1998

By some miracle of the universe, Matt Tisdale’s fourth solo album, Faithless, was completely mixed and mastered by the deadline of March 12. True, they had finished up the final mastering with only hours to spare on the last day, and true, the corroboration between Jake and Matt had been uneasy at times, downright hostile on a few occasions—an argument over using Little Stevie as a backing singer for a measure instead of simply double-tracking Matt’s voice was probably the worst of these incidents (Matt had won that argument through sheer stubbornness)—but the fact that they had managed to work closely together for six months certainly fell under the category of divine intervention. Or perhaps it was just desperation on Matt’s part as he felt the increasing squeeze of his tax debts.

In any case, the master was done by the extended deadline (though it was considerably over budget by this point) and Matt, Jake, Laura, Caydee, the Nerdlys, and Kelvin the little Nerdly were able to climb into the Avanti on the morning of March 13 and make the flight back to Los Angeles. Celia’s master had been finished the week before and she, Pauline, Tabby, and Obie had taken a private flight back to LA already. It was the following Monday that the fun truly began. That was the day that copies of the masters were delivered to National Records and Aristocrat Records with a request for proposal.

Jake, Matt, Celia, and Pauline had already met with the suits at Aristocrat the previous Friday and listened to their offer. It was not all that great an offer and Jake was hoping that National would present something better. It made sense that they would since National owned the rights to the first three Matt Tisdale solo albums and therefore would not have to factor performance fees into their figures. It was a theory that Jake hoped would hold water.

The four of them met at the National Records Building at 10:45 for their 11:00 AM appointment with the dynamic trio of Crow, Bailey, and Doolittle. Jake had just flown in an hour before and was driving his pickup truck. Matt had chartered a limousine. Celia and Pauline showed up together in Celia’s Mercedes after meeting for breakfast at a trendy downtown eatery.

“How are Teach and Caydee?” asked Pauline as they assembled in the lobby of the iconic building. “Did they stay home today?”

“Yeah,” Jake told her. “She’s going to buy a new car today.”

“A new car?” asked Celia. “She’s getting rid of the little green machine?”

He nodded. “She says it’s not a ‘mom car’. And she has a point, really. It’s a bitch to put Caydee’s car seat in the back seat. And there’s also the fact that I can’t drive it.”

“Why can’t you drive it?” asked Matt. “Because it’s too fuckin’ small?”

“Because it’s a Cabriolet,” Jake said simply.

Matt understood. “Oh, yeah,” he said wisely. “Unless you’re a dick smoker, you definitely can’t be seen doing that shit.”

Celia and Pauline both rolled their eyes and shook their heads.

“What’s she going to get?” asked Pauline.

“I don’t know,” he said. “She doesn’t know either. I just told her to go out and buy whatever she wants.”

“She’s taking Caydee car shopping with her?” asked Celia.

“No,” Jake said. “Meghan, the girl we’re considering for our nanny, is coming over to watch her today. Kind of a trial run so we can see how she does.”

“Oh, speaking of Miss Meghan,” Pauline said. “I have the background report on her in my office at home. Do you want to swing by after this fuckfest and take a look at it?”

“How’s it look?” Jake asked. “Is she clean?”

“Maybe not sterile, and she’s certainly no nun, but no serious concerns. There are a few interesting tidbits in there though.”

“A nanny named Meghan?” asked Matt, interested. “That sounds like the opening of one of Kim’s porno flicks. What’s this bitch look like?”

“She’s all right,” Jake said with a shrug. “Not that that interests me in the least.”

“Oh ... right, of course not,” Matt said with a grin. “She gonna be living with you?”

“If it all works out,” Jake said.

“Out of fuckin’ sight,” Matt said enviously. “Although I do not recommend banging your household staff, you pretty much have to make an exception to the rule when you’re talking a nanny—especially one named Meghan.”

This time Pauline, Celia and Jake rolled their eyes and shook their heads. “Come on,” Jake said. “Let’s head up. We’re starting to attract attention.”

They piled into the elevator and Celia pushed the button for the sixteenth floor. As the rickety little conveyance began to jerk and jitter its way up, Jake turned to Matt.

“Now remember, Matt,” he told the guitarist, “this is just like the Intemperance days when we sat down to negotiate something with these fucks. Pauline is in charge. We present a united front against these suits no matter what. If there is something you disagree with, you do not bring it up at the table in front of them. We talk about it later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Matt said. “I’m down with that shit as long as I start getting some fuckin’ cashflow out of this deal.”

“You’ll get your cashflow,” Jake promised. “And so will we.”

“I hate to say it,” Celia said, “but I really wish that Greg was here for this.”

“Yeah,” Pauline said with reluctant respect. “He really was a good person to have in negotiations like this.”

“Hey, what was the deal with him and Mindy Snow anyway?” Matt asked Celia. “Did she really sabotage his fuckin’ rubber just so she could get pregnant?”

“Something like that,” Celia said sourly.

“It’s a bit of a sore subject for Celia, Matt,” Pauline said.

“I understand that shit,” Matt said. “What a fucked-up deal that was! I live in fear of some bitch pulling some shit like that on me. That’s why I always make sure to bring my own fuckin’ rubbers to the game. There’s no little pinholes in my shit.”

Thankfully, the elevator reached its destination at that moment. The doors slid open and the four of them stepped out. The entered the main office and checked in with the secretary manning the desk. She told them that Mr. Crow, Mr. Bailey, and Mr. Doolittle wanted them to come right back.

“All right,” Jake said, steeling himself for the coming encounter. “Let’s do this thing.”

“Let’s fuckin’ do it,” Matt agreed.

It quickly became apparent that the National Records suits did not give a rat’s ass about the new CDs, neither Matt’s nor Celia’s. All they wanted to talk about were the tours that would follow.

“Did you guys even listen to the CDs?” Jake asked them shortly into the meeting.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Crow said. “We gave them a cursory listen when we received them. They’re fine.”

“Fine?” Matt asked, fuming. “Faithless is the best fuckin’ thing I’ve put out since Intemperance. It’s a fuckin’ masterpiece.”

“Yes, yes,” Crow said. “Like I said, it’s just fine. More than enough to justify sending you out on tour again.”

“Your CD is also acceptable, Celia,” said Bailey. “It has some catchy tunes on it and we should be able to get you enough airplay to keep your name up there until your tour starts.”

“Acceptable,” Celia said slowly, just as offended as Matt. She had put her heart and soul into Living in Limbo, had composed music and lyrics that reflected the pain, misery, loneliness, and resurgence she had undergone since the events that led to her divorce. She, like Matt, considered it the best work she had done to date. And they were calling it acceptable?

“Exactly,” Crow said with his weasel-smile on his face. “Acceptable. But enough about the CDs. Let’s go back to talking about the tours.”

“Uh ... let’s not,” Jake said. “We’re here to negotiate MD&P for those CDs. Such negotiation requires that we talk about them.”

“Fine,” Doolittle said with a sigh of impatience. “Let’s get this part out of the way then. We are prepared to manufacture and distribute both of these CDs for the standard cost of operations. I have the figure here in front of me.” He shuffled through some papers for a moment. “We will manufacture and distribute up to one million copies of each CD for the upfront cost of two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars per CD.”

Jake, Celia, and Pauline all shared a look. Matt, who had never negotiated such a thing before, did not pick up on this. “Two hundred and twenty-five big?” he asked. “For each one? That’s an assload!”

“Actually, Matt,” Jake corrected, “it’s not. It’s considerably less than we were charged by National for our first CDs and by Aristocrat for the subsequent ones.”

“Really?” Matt asked.

“Really,” Pauline said. She looked at the suits. “What’s the game here? Are you going to try to fuck us on the promotion aspect?”

“We’re not trying to fuck anyone here,” Crow said.

Jake barked out a laugh. “Says the soldier who leads his squad into the whorehouse for a ‘security sweep’.”

“What?” Crow asked.

“I’m saying I’m having a hard time believing that statement,” Jake translated. “Now what’s the deal here?”

“There is no deal,” Doolittle said. “Piddly expenses like the cost of manufacturing and distribution are not something to waste time arguing about. We’ll manufacture and distribute the CDs at cost. Surely you have no objection to that?”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me Shirley,” Matt said.

“What?” Doolittle asked, exasperated a bit.

“I was gonna say that,” Jake said with a shake of the head. He then returned to the business at hand. “All right. You manufacture and distribute for cost only. I’m assuming that when we sell more than a million copies we will be charged the same rate?”

“If you sell more than a million copies, yes,” said Doolittle. “The same rate, broken down into increments of one hundred thousand and billed to KVA after the fact, will apply.”

“If we sell more than a million copies?” asked Celia. “You do plan to promote these CDs to the best of your abilities, correct?”

“Of course,” Crow said. “After all, it helps our cause if you are getting some airplay and appearing on the charts.”

“Then why the if?” Jake asked. “Do you not have faith in us?”

“You have proven yourself quite canny when it comes to finding acts and producing CDs, Jake” Crow said. “We have learned to trust you in this department and we’re sure these CDs will at least go Platinum.”

“We’re anticipating multi-Platinum for both of them,” Jake said.

“That would be nice if it happens, but nobody is really expecting that,” said Crow. “You see, the times are changing. It’s all about the touring now. The modern music consumer is not all that interested in new material from classic artists these days. They just want to see you live and are willing to shell out a considerable amount of money for the privilege.”

“It’s actually quite exciting,” Doolittle said. “Our focus for the next century will be increasingly on touring and concert revenue. The actual CDs are becoming only the vehicle that justifies the tour. We are no longer obsessed with how many copies a CD sells or even the underlying quality of it when it comes to established acts such as you, Celia, and you, Matt.”

“Insane,” Celia said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“And this change in paradigm came about when you figured out that you could charge market rate for concert tickets?” Jake asked.

“That was one of the catalysts, of course,” Doolittle said, “but it was mostly the shifting of attitudes in the music consumer. CDs are simply not selling as well as they used to, likely because of saturation of the market by independent labels such as yourselves.”

“Wow,” Jake said, marveling over the fact that this trio actually seemed to believe the bullshit they were spouting. They had killed the goose that laid the golden egg by spending the last twenty years signing low-talent acts that looked good on camera instead of acts that made good music. And when the consumers started to get tired of mediocre tunes and CD sales dropped, they did not blame themselves for it, but declared it was just a natural evolution in consumer attitude and an influx of tunes by non-traditional channels. And they were now reinforcing their delusion by completely disregarding the fact that when those quality acts that did, somehow, manage to make it to the mainstream—acts like Celia, Brainwash, V-tach, Matt Tisdale, Jake himself—they were selling those CDs like mad because there still was and always would be a market for quality music.

“It’s all very complex,” Bailey said wisely. “This is why we employ a virtual army of behavioral specialists. So we can predict and respond to the trends in consumer behavior.”

“Yeah?” Matt asked. “How much you paying them motherfuckers? I hope it ain’t much.”

“Anyway,” Pauline said. “We were talking about MD&P here. Manufacturing and distribution will be two hundred and twenty-five thousand per CD up to the one million mark. We’re good with that. How about we start talking promotion now?”

“Very well,” Crow said.

Here it comes, Jake thought. This is where they try to fuck us.

But they did not. At least not yet anyway. “National will agree to a twenty percent royalty rate for promotion of both CDs,” Doolittle said.

Again, the look was passed around between the KVA representatives. This time, even Matt joined in. KVA had paid forty percent royalties for the first Jake Kingsley and Celia Valdez CDs. And they had been paying twenty-three to twenty-five percent to Aristocrat for the subsequent ones. “Twenty percent?” Pauline asked. “Are you serious?”

“It seems a fair offer, does it not?” asked Doolittle.

“It seems suspiciously fair,” Pauline said. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch,” Doolittle said. “We’ve already explained our philosophy on CD sales to you. As long as we are covering costs and enjoying a small profit, we are happy with that aspect of the business.”

“That covers everything?” Jake asked. “You use all of your assets and pull out all the stops to get us airplay in the North American market? You follow my instructions on how the CDs are promoted and in what order the tunes are released for airplay?”

“Naturally,” Crow said. “Again, you have proven yourself quite worthy of that task over the years, Jake, and, quite frankly, having you do it means we do not have to pay someone to do it for you. We’ll promote just as we did for your first CDs and for all the Matt Tisdale CDs. As long as the radio stations are willing to play the tunes on the air, we’ll push for it and get you heard.”

“Uh ... okay then,” Jake said.

“Right,” agreed Pauline. “If that appears in writing without any of your little clauses slipped in, then I guess we have a deal for MD&P.”

“Excellent,” Doolittle said. “I promise we will slip no clauses in. Now ... can we talk touring?”

“The touring contract will be negotiated separately from MD&P,” Pauline said. “That is how we do business.”

“We would have it no other way,” Doolittle said. “We would like to get some basic stipulations out on the table now, however.”

“Okay,” Pauline said carefully. “Let’s hear what you got for us.”

“Well, in the first place,” Doolittle said, “we will have to insist that the agreement for MD&P be dependent on the successful negotiation and signing of a touring contract for both acts.”

Jake blinked. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Say that again.”

“It’s very simple,” Doolittle explained. “In order for the MD&P contract we just agreed to to be valid and in compliance, we must also agree upon and sign a touring contract for both Matt and Celia. If we fail to come to terms on touring, then the MD&P contract would be in a state of breach.”

Ahhh, Jake thought with sudden understanding of the game afoot, this is where they pull out the schlong and try to stick it in. “I’m sorry,” he said to the suits. “That is not how KVA does business. The touring contract will remain completely separate from the MD&P contract.”

“Goddamn right it will,” Pauline said with a shake of the head. “You have a lot of nerve suggesting something like that, Doolittle. Did you really think we would agree to such an asinine stipulation?”

Doolittle stood his ground. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to insist on this provision,” he said. “If you do not agree to make the MD&P contract dependent on the touring contract, we will need to increase our royalty rate and upfront costs for manufacturing and distribution considerably.”

“How considerably?” asked Celia.

“Well, without a guarantee of future touring revenue flowing in, we would have to make sure that we make a decent profit on the MD&P alone. We would accept no less than half a million dollars per CD for manufacturing and distribution and forty percent royalties for promotion. And even then, we would insist on considerable compensation for the performance agreement for Matt’s earlier catalogue if you were to sign with another entity for touring.”

“How much is considerable compensation?” Pauline asked through clenched teeth.

“Twenty-five percent of gross tour revenue for Matt’s shows,” Doolittle said.

“Twenty-five fucking percent?” Matt yelled, outraged. “Are you out of your fuckin’ minds?”

“We hold the rights to those tunes,” Doolittle said simply. “We have a reasonable expectation to profit from that one way or the other.”

“There’s no way in hell we would give you twenty-five percent of concert revenue just because you have the rights to the songs,” Pauline said. “That is not going to happen.”

“Then I guess we will need to come to an agreement on a touring contract then,” Doolittle said.

“We’re not going to make the MD&P dependent on that,” Jake said. “We’ll go to Aristocrat for MD&P and just not send Matt out on tour before we do that.”

Jake saw Matt tense up at these words. He hoped he would heed the warning he had been given and not say anything to reveal a crack in the armor. Matt was absolutely counting on his share of touring revenue to help pay down his debts and keep his head above water and the thought that they were potentially cutting that avenue off had to be digging into his brain. A few seconds went by, but Matt said nothing. He gritted his teeth audibly, but he said nothing.

“Is that really a reasonable attitude to take, Jake?” Crow asked. “You haven’t even heard our proposal for the touring contract yet.”

“That’s right,” Doolittle said. “As with our MD&P proposal, I think you’ll find it quite fair and comprehensible.”

Jake and Pauline looked at each other for a moment. They then looked at Celia. They all looked at Matt, who was still sitting and gritting. A few nods were passed among the KVA management team. “All right,” Pauline said. “Just for shits and giggles here, let’s hear this fair and comprehensive proposal of yours.”

“Well ... we can’t give you the details right now,” Doolittle said. “We haven’t signed the MD&P contract yet.”

Jake’s eyes darkened dangerously. “Are you seriously suggesting that we sign an MD&P contract that is dependent upon the negotiation of a touring contract without even hearing what you are proposing for terms of the touring contract?”

“That is exactly what I am suggesting,” Doolittle said. “If we were to give you the terms prior to the signing of the MD&P contract, that would give you an unfair advantage.”

“But it’s okay for you to have an unfair advantage by not revealing your terms first?” Jake asked pointedly.

“That is not how we are looking at things here,” Doolittle said smoothly (and with a straight face). “As I said, our terms are fair.”

“In your eyes, I’m sure they are,” Celia said.

“Let me just take a wild guess here, Doolittle,” Pauline said. “The MD&P contract would have wording that would let you go after us for breach of contract if we failed to come to terms on a touring agreement, right?”

“Well ... naturally,” Doolittle said. “Again, without such a stipulation there would be no reason for you to negotiate in good faith.”

“And with such a stipulation there would be no reason for you to negotiate in good faith,” Pauline said. “Sorry, boys. We don’t do this business this way.”

“Then you will be losing out on considerable revenue from Matt’s tour,” Doolittle said.

“Perhaps,” Pauline said, “but if we can’t come to terms and have to go to Aristocrat and shitcan Matt’s tour, you will be missing out on any and all revenue from both CDs and from Celia’s tour, which is going to be quite a money maker.”

This was a jab that scored. Though the suits kept their united front up and said nothing, it was plain to see that the thought of losing Celia’s tour income had hit them where they lived.

“It’s real simple guys,” Jake said. “Put your figures for touring on the table and let us hear them or this meeting is over. There is no way in hell we are going to blindly sign a binding contract for MD&P that is reliant on you fuckheads negotiating a multimillion-dollar touring contract in good faith when the contract gives you no good reason to do so.”

“I’m afraid we’re not prepared to put touring figures on the table at this time,” Doolittle said quietly.

“Then I guess this meeting is over,” Pauline said.

A minute later, their united front still standing, Matt, Jake, Celia, and Pauline left the office and went back to the elevator. No further meeting was scheduled.

They went to a nearby cocktail lounge to talk things over in privacy. Celia and Pauline both ordered mixed drinks. Matt ordered a beer. Jake had iced tea since he had to fly back to SLO later. All of them munched on bar peanuts and pretzels as they sat at one of the cocktail tables in the far corner of the nearly empty establishment.

“So, what happens now?” Matt asked. “You’re not really fuckin’ thinking about not sending me out on tour, right?”

“No,” Jake said. “One way or another, we’ll get you out on tour. We know that was a prime motivator for you to sign with us, and, quite frankly, there’s an assload of money to be made for all of us by getting you out there.”

“That’s good,” Matt said, visibly relieved.

“We’re just not going to let them bend us over and fuck us like that,” Pauline said. “Threatening to have you not tour while simultaneously threatening to cut them off from any revenue from Celia’s tour is our negotiating strategy. I’m guessing they will realize this and call me in the next few days to come to terms.”

“Yes,” said Celia. “But what kind of terms? It seems pretty obvious that they are obsessed with the touring profits. What kind of one-sided contract do you think they’ll offer?”

“God only knows,” Pauline said, “but you can bet your ass it’s not going to be anything close to what Aristocrat gave us on C’s last tour—or even what they’re offering for this one. If it had been that simple, they wouldn’t be afraid to lay the figures on the table.”

“What about the offer from Aristocrat?” asked Matt. “I mean, it sounded like shit when we heard it, but is it maybe sounding a little better now?”

Aristocrat had offered MD&P of both Celia’s and Matt’s new CDs for three hundred and fifty thousand per million CDs and thirty percent royalties on CD sales. They wanted a stipulation that KVA would negotiate with them first for a touring contract and that they would allow Aristocrat first refusal of such a contract as long as they matched the bid offered by any other entity. They, like National, had not thrown any figures for such a contract onto the table, but they also had not tried to tie the MD&P to the touring contract in such a blatantly favorable and legally binding way.

“We’d have to hear what Aristocrat is willing to accept for touring revenue division and then crunch the numbers,” Pauline said. “Keep in mind, however, that if we go with Aristocrat, National has already told us that they are going to demand twenty-five percent or they won’t let you do your earlier material. If you can’t do your earlier material, no one is going to pay a hundred dollars a ticket to come see you.”

“We can negotiate that shit down, can’t we?” Matt asked.

“Maybe,” Pauline said. “But I wouldn’t think we’d get them under twenty percent.”

Matt shook his head. “Twenty percent of my concert money just because those fucks own the rights to my fucking songs. This business fucking sucks, dudes!”

“You’re just now figuring that out?” Jake asked.

“What’s our strategy then?” asked Celia. “Wait for National call us and bring us back in?”

“I think that should be the overall strategy,” Pauline said. “In the meantime, however, I’ll give Flag over at Aristocrat a call and see if he’s willing to put some figures on the table. At least then we’ll have some solid numbers to think about.”

“Sounds good,” Jake said, fantasizing about the nice, tall, scotch on the rocks he was going to enjoy when he got home.

Gordon and Neesh had yet to meet the Kingsley’s little bundle of joy. Since Neesh was on a two-week sabbatical from her job at the law firm/sweatshop she was employed at, the couple had agreed to come visit Casa Kingsley for dinner and an overnight stay in the guest room. Jake gave the rapper a call on his cell phone as he drove to Pauline’s house after the meeting.

“What up, homey?” G enquired upon answering.

“You and Neesh still up for dinner?” he asked.

“Fuckin’ A, homey,” the rapper said. “Been looking forward to Elsa’s chicken parm all day.”

“Go ahead and head to the airport then,” Jake said. “I’m in Hollywood right now, heading over to Pauline’s for some quick business. After that, I’ll be heading there myself.”

“Sounds good,” G said. “Just don’t make us wait on your ass.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jake said with a chuckle. “And you don’t make me wait on your asses.”

He arrived at Pauline’s house and they went immediately to her office. She pulled a large manila envelope out of a locked drawer and then set it down in front of him.

“Here it is,” she said. “A complete background investigation on one Meghan Elise Zachary, date of birth October 24, 1976, former student at Cal Poly, current employee of KinderCare Incorporated, where she makes six dollars and thirty-three cents per hour caring for children. Please keep in mind that some of the information developed was not gathered ... well ... exactly in accordance with the laws of privacy as they currently exist in the United States.”

“I understand,” Jake said, and he did. Pauline had employed her long-time friend and security consultant Steve Marshall, who was always happy to do a little snooping around when the price was right, to find out what he could about their potential nanny. The information in this envelope had cost Jake $3500.

“All right,” she said. “Like I said earlier, she’s not squeaky clean, but she seems to be a good kid overall.”

“What do you mean?” Jake asked.

“No criminal history as an adult,” Pauline said. “She was arrested for shoplifting when she was seventeen, but the charge was dismissed by the first juvenile judge to hear the case. There’s a copy of the police report from San Luis Obispo PD in there and a summary of the judge’s decision. It looks like it was mostly a peer pressure thing. She and a group of friends were in the Target store in SLO and were caught by store security trying to exit the business with a bunch of beany babies in their purses.”

“Beany babies?” Jake asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Beany babies,” Pauline confirmed. “Remember them? They were quite the fad back in 1993 when this incident took place. I do not have information on what the parental reaction to the incident was, but there is a note from the judge that states that Miss Meghan seemed extremely remorseful for her actions, cried considerably as His Honor lectured her in juvenile court, and that he was confident that there was a low probability of her reoffending. And he was right. The only scrape with the law she has had since then was a parking ticket she got at the Pismo Beach pier in 1996. She paid it promptly and has committed no parking violations since.”

“Okay,” Jake said, nodding. “So far, so good.”

“It seems that she is heterosexual primarily,” Pauline said next. “Or at least there is no information to suggest she may be a lesbian or bisexual. She received a therapeutic abortion at the Pasa Robles Planned Parenthood clinic on May 11th of 1996 when she was nineteen years old. She was brought there and driven home by her sister. She was also treated for a case of gonorrhea in the same visit. It is worth mentioning as a piece of circumstantial evidence that that date is five weeks after a documented trip that Meghan took to Mazatlán, Mexico for Spring Break. Since then, she has had no pregnancies or cases of venereal disease that could be uncovered. She has been regularly filling prescriptions for Pro-G birth control pills ever since. And she has never again taken a Spring Break trip.”

“Interesting,” Jake said. “It sounds like she likes to fuck.” This was a bit worrisome on several levels, though not really unexpected. She was, after all, a young, healthy, reasonably attractive woman in the prime of her life.

“Don’t we all like to fuck?” Pauline asked simply. “All indications are that she does not currently have a regular boyfriend and that she never really has had a regular boyfriend. She identifies herself as Christian—Methodist in particular—but is not a regular churchgoer. She attends church usually only on Easter Sunday—when she’s not in Mazatlán getting knocked up and catching the clap on Spring Break anyway—and the Christmas Eve service. She is known to go out and drink alcohol on the weekends on occasion, but it is not a regular thing for her. There is some circumstantial evidence that she may like to toke up a little reefer now and then, but usually only in social situations. There is no evidence of any kind that she uses anything harder than pot and alcohol.”

“That is a good thing to know,” Jake said.

“Right,” Pauline agreed. “As for her academic life, she graduated twelfth in her class from San Luis Obispo High School in 1994. Her SAT scores were quite impressive, indicating a fair degree of intelligence. She was accepted to Cal Poly and began her freshman year in September of 1994 where she lived in the dorms on campus. Her declared major was Psychology and she carried an A average in her general education classes and a B minus average in the classes related to her major. She received her highest grades in English 1A and Sociology 101. In both of those classes, she was excused from the responsibility of taking the final because she had accumulated enough points with her essays and other assignments that she would hold onto an A even with a zero grade on the final.”

“That’s pretty good, right?” asked Jake, whose highest grade in college had been the B he had received for his intermediate guitar class.

“Yes,” Pauline said slowly. “That’s pretty good. She seems a very smart girl. She continued to attend Cal Poly until the end of the spring semester of 1996. Her grades were about the same as usual for that semester and she was on track for graduation with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology in June of this year, but for whatever reason—Steve could not uncover even speculation on this matter—she did not sign up for the fall semester of what would have been her junior year. She moved out of the dorms and went back home to her parents’ home. She got the job at KinderCare and has been living that life ever since.”

“What about her parents?” Jake asked. “Anything on them?”

“Her father is fifty-two years old and a civil engineer for the county of San Luis Obispo,” Pauline said. “Her mother is forty-eight and she owns a small business in Pismo Beach called Zachary Antiques. It’s one of those places that sells little knickknacks and things like that to the tourists passing by on Highway 101. She is pulling in around twenty thousand or so a year, free and clear, from this venture, but the dad is the real income in the family. He pulls in close to a hundred and twenty k. By all indications they are solid, normal people who contribute to the community you live in. They pay their taxes and their bills on time, they have a nice house in one of the upper-middle class neighborhoods near the mission, they go to church every Easter and every Christmas Eve, and they were able to save enough money to allow both Danielle and Meghan, their only children, to attend Cal Poly out of their savings accounts.”

“Hmmm,” Jake said thoughtfully. “The kind of people who are likely not to care too much for the likes of me and Laura.”

“That is possible,” Pauline said. “I have no indication one way or the other as to whether Meghan has told her parents about your offer of live-in employment in your household.”

“That will be an interesting conversation for her,” Jake said.

“I agree,” she said.

“Anything else?” Jake asked.

“Nothing much,” Pauline said. “She goes to the dentist twice a year, just like she should. She occasionally works in her mother’s shop, but that is infrequent. She is not known to be a gossip. She drives a 1993 Toyota Corolla that her parents paid for and she gets her oil changes on schedule at the local Jiffy Lube. She takes no antidepressant or antipsychotic meds, or in fact any medications at all save the birth control pills. She has no documented radical beliefs along the lines of animal rights, vegetarianism, environmental activism, anti-government, or anything else. Her performance reviews at KinderCare are always quite glowing and above average. She is not prone to excessive absences or other disciplinary problems.”

“It sounds like she might be a good choice,” Jake said. “You think?”

“She might be,” Pauline allowed. “The real question is whether or not she’ll be able to keep her mouth shut about what she sees, hears, and smells in the Kingsley household. She’s a known member of the community where you live and comes from a known family. People are going to ask her things once it is known she is working for you. Will she be able to resist the temptation to tell them what they want to hear?”

“This is the real question,” Jake agreed.

“Yes,” Pauline said seriously. “Particularly in light of ... well ... how to put this?”

Jake looked up at her. “How to put what?”

She took a deep breath. “You know I’m always straight with you, little bro, and that I’m always looking out for your interests, right?”

“Right,” he said.

“And I’m not one to judge what you do in your private life,” she added. “I never have been and I never will be. You know that too, right?”

Jake sighed. “Is this about Laura and Celia and I?” he asked.

She looked a bit taken aback. “Uh ... well ... yes, actually,” she said. “It is about that.”

Jake nodded. “Elsa already had this talk with us,” he said. “She let it be known that everyone close to us is aware of what is going on.”

“Oh, well, that makes this discussion a little easier then,” Pauline said. “She’s right. You weren’t fooling anyone. I’ve known about the three of you for several months now.” She looked at her brother slyly. “How is she, by the way? I’ve seen her almost naked once, and she has a fantastic body. Does it feel as good as it looks?”

“Pauline!” Jake cried, scandalized.

“What?” she asked. “I’ve always had a little curiosity about the girl-on-girl thing. And if I was ever going to do it, Celia is who I would pick.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jake said, shaking his head. “How about I just get Matt’s old lady to send over some of those amateur lesbian porn videos she makes?”

“I already own most of them,” Pauline said. “Good shit there. Anyway, I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“You succeeded nonetheless,” Jake said.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding anything but. “My point, however, is that if you move Meghan into your house, she is going to figure out pretty quickly that the three of you are doing the nasty with each other. That’s some pretty compelling gossip there.”

“That’s why I asked you to draw up a nondisclosure agreement,” Jake said. “That way, she’ll know there is a consequence if she starts blabbing our business around town.”

“I did draw one up,” she said. “It’s in the envelope with the rest of the papers. I’m just not sure that a simple NDA is enough to keep her mouth shut.”

“What do you suggest then?” Jake asked.

“One possibility is that you and Laura stop getting it on with Celia,” she said.

Jake shook his head immediately. “That’s not going to happen,” he said. “We like doing that. All three of us. We have no intention of stopping in the near future.”

“Really?” Pauline said, her eyes shining a little. “That’s kind of hot, you know.”

“Thinking about your brother having sex with two women should not be hot,” Jake told her.

“I don’t think about you when I think about it,” Pauline told him. “I think about me and Obie doing it with Celia at the frequency that you and Laura do it with her. That’s the hot part.”

“You two need to find your own third for the threesome and leave ours alone,” Jake said.

“I suppose,” she said. “I’m sure Obie would be easy to please in that department. Anyway, my suggestion is that you be upfront with Meghan from the start. Sit her down before she signs the NDA and you offer her official employment and feel her out about the subject. See what kind of vibes you get from that. You’re a pretty good judge of character, bro. Use that ability to determine if you can trust her to abide by the agreement or not.”

“And if my judgement is wrong?” he asked. “If she signs the agreement and then goes and blabs about me, Laura, and C anyway?”

Pauline shrugged. “Then the story will get out. You fire her, sue her ass for violating the agreement, and then deal with the fallout. There are already rumors about you three circulating anyway. You just hide behind that wall of denial again.

“We are getting pretty good at that,” Jake said.

“Indeed,” Pauline said. “And, quite honestly, do you really think that your CD sales will suffer if your fans are given reason to believe that you and your wife are getting it on with Celia Valdez?”

“No,” Jake said. “They might even go up if they thought that. It might hurt Celia’s career though.”

“That’s where that wall of denial comes in,” Pauline said. “But hopefully, this will be a non-issue. Talk to Meghan. Try to figure out if you can trust her. Try to instill her with the same sort of loyalty that Elsa displays.”

“We will do that,” Jake said.

“And there’s one other thing,” Pauline said.

“What’s that?”

“If this works out, you’re going to have a young, attractive, sexually active girl living in your household. Don’t fuck her, no matter how tempting it might be. There can be no good outcome from that.”

Jake smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “I’m already juggling two women. I do not want or need a third.”

Pauline returned the smile. “Very good,” she said.

“A twenty-one-year-old nanny named Meghan?” G asked in astonishment. “Fuckin’ Meghan? You’re making this shit up just to fuck with me, right?”

“I’m not making this shit up,” Jake assured the rapper, who was sitting in the copilot’s seat next to him. They had just leveled off at ten thousand feet above the Santa Susana Mountains and Jake had declared the sterile cockpit condition null and void for the time being. He had then told Gordon and Neesh about the nanny they were considering hiring.

“You are such a pig, G,” Neesh said, shaking her head in wifely disapproval. “Just because she’s named Meghan and is twenty-one years old doesn’t mean she’s attractive.”

“Actually, she is pretty attractive,” Jake said. “You know, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Young twenty-one-year-olds named Meghan?” G said, grinning now. “Naw. Not many homies are into shit like that.”

“And Teach is okay with this girl?” Neesh asked, her brows now raised in enquiry.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I talked to her on the phone while I was driving to the airport. She said she’s great, very personable, very good with Caydee. She took care of her most of the day while Laura was out car shopping.”

“But ... well ... isn’t she afraid that you might ... you know...”

“Bone her?” Jake asked.

“Well, yeah,” Neesh said. “Not that I’m saying you would or anything. I just know that if we ever hire a nanny it’s going to be some bitch in her fifties or sixties.”

“Aww, you ain’t no fun, baby,” G said, shaking his head at the tragedy of it.

“I am not going to bone the nanny,” Jake assured her. “Not even if she wants to bone me. Laura knows this.”

“She does?” Neesh asked doubtfully.

“She does,” Jake assured her, diplomatically not mentioning that she and G had a completely different relationship than the Kingsleys had with each other. G routinely cheated on Neesh, usually with groupies out on the road but occasionally with women he picked up in local nightclubs as well. Neesh routinely cheated on G, usually with her friend Talia when she came to visit or when Neesh visited her. They kept these episodes of infidelity from each other. Though they were a seemingly happy couple on the outside, there were obviously some significant trust issues between them.

“Well ... I guess that’s all right then,” Neesh said, though she was obviously not convinced of this.

“The only real question left is whether or not she’ll abide by the nondisclosure agreement we’ll have to present to her,” Jake said.

“Yeah,” said G, “I’m guessing that it’s a little harder to keep the gossip under control when you live in a small town.”

“That is the truth,” Jake said. “At least they’re not saying that you’re Caydee’s daddy anymore.”

G and Neesh both laughed at that. “Yeah, that one pretty much fell apart once you let them print that picture of her,” G said. “There ain’t no way my DNA is in that little pale redheaded girl.”

“I don’t know,” Jake said thoughtfully. “She does kind of have your lips.”

They had a laugh about this and then G decided it might be wise to change the subject. “You said your old lady was out buying a new car today? What did she get?”

“It’s a Toyota,” Jake said with a shrug. “I was kind of hoping she would go for another Lexus or maybe a Mercedes like Celia’s, but she said she really liked the Toyota she test-drove at the dealership.”

“A Toyota huh?” G asked. “That’s kind of boring.”

“She says it’s the perfect mom car,” Jake said. “Lots of room for the car seat and passengers and it has all the bells and whistles. It was only twenty-seven grand out the door.”

“What kind of Toyota is it?” asked Neesh. “The new Camry? Those actually are pretty nice, but I didn’t think they cost that much.”

“No, not the Camry,” Jake said. “Some new model they just came out with this year. Bigger than a Camry and with more safety features and all that shit. She called it a...” He searched his brain for the information. “Something with an S.”

“An S?” Neesh said. “Was it a Sienna?”

“Yeah!” Jake said, nodding. “That’s it. A 1998 Toyota Sienna.”

“Never heard of no Sienna,” G said.

“Me either,” said Jake. “We’ll see it when we get there. She’s already got it home.”

“Oh, homey,” Neesh said, shaking her head a little.

“What?” asked Jake.

“You don’t know what a Toyota Sienna is?” she asked.

“I’m not that much into cars,” Jake said. “Especially not Toyotas.”

“It’s a minivan,” Neesh told him.

Jake’s eyes got wide. “A minivan?” he asked. “You mean ... you mean ... like that Ford Windstar, or that Chevy Astro?”

“Yep,” Neesh said with a smile. “Toyota is getting into the market. The Sienna is their first model of minivan.”

“How do you know this shit, baby?” asked G, who was just as appalled as Jake at the thought of a Kingsley owning a minivan.

“One of my firm’s clients is Toyota,” she said. “I’ve worked on their account and have seen their projections of sales figures for the coming year. They are very excited about entering the minivan market.”

“Oh my God,” Jake said, feeling a little like he had been punched. “A fucking minivan? How could she do this to me?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re trying to hire a twenty-one-year-old nanny named Meghan,” Neesh suggested.

The new Toyota Sienna was royal blue, Jake’s favorite color. Its paint was shiny and new. It had two rows of seats behind the driver and passenger section, making it capable of seating five in comfort in addition to Caydee and her car seat. The seats were plush and quite comfortable, with more leg room than Jake’s BMW. It had a premium sound system, anti-lock brakes, airbags, cruise control, and power ports installed for every seat. It had the exquisite smell of a new vehicle. It had a V-6 engine that produced 194 horsepower, which gave it impressive acceleration and handling. Despite all of this, Jake hated it on first sight and he would continue to hate it for as long as it existed as part of the Kingsley household.

“A minivan?” he asked his wife. “Why’d you have to get a minivan?”

“You told me to get whatever I want,” she told him, upset that he did not like her new ride. “It’s the perfect family car.”

“We only have one kid,” Jake protested. “We don’t need a whole van.”

“Not right now, we don’t,” Laura said, “but what if we have more kids? What if Caydee joins the soccer team or something when she’s in school and I have to drive multiple kids around. This is what I wanted, Jake!”

“Man,” Jake said sadly, shaking his head. “You know, of course, that I can never drive this thing. Hell, I can’t even ride in it while you drive it.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“Because it’s a minivan,” he said. “I’m Jake Kingsley, hon. I have street cred to think of. I am considered one of the best rock singers of all time. I hang out with fuckin’ Bigg G and make music with him. All that shit goes out the window if some pap motherfucker snaps a picture of me in a goddamn minivan and publishes it in the Watcher. I would never sell another CD as long as I lived.”

Laura rolled her eyes a little. “Are you maybe being just a bit dramatic here?” she asked.

“Am I being dramatic, G?” Jake asked his friend and fellow street-cred carrying musician.

“No, not at all,” G confirmed. “In fact, I would go a step further and make sure that you aren’t even photographed near this thing, just to be safe.”

Laura looked up at the heavens and shook her head. “Fuck me,” she muttered.

“Maybe later,” Jake told her. “Come on. Let’s get inside and introduce G and Neesh to Caydee.”

They went in the house. Elsa was holding Caydee in one of the rocking chairs in the entertainment room, feeding her with a bottle of breast milk that Laura had heated up. Now almost four months old, Caydee could hold her head up without problem and had developed significant personality. She spit out the bottle and smiled when she saw her daddy come in the room. She began to babble happily and held out her arms to him.

As always, Jake’s heart felt warm when he saw his daughter look at him that way. He smiled and plucked her out of Elsa’s arms. She liked it when he tossed her in the air, but he did not perform this maneuver now. Experience had taught him that tossing her or jostling her too much immediately after she fed was a bad idea.

“Hey, little girl!” he said, holding her in front of his face instead, his hands supporting her by her armpits. “How was your day?”

She babbled out a little paragraph to him and he elected to believe that she was telling him about her day. He kissed her soundly on each cheek and then gave her a hug, which he then transitioned into a cradling hold. He stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry at her. She giggled excitedly in response and then tried to blow a raspberry of her own.

“Seriously, Caydee,” he said to her. “Why didn’t you tell Mommy that minivans are not cool? Is that why she left you at home? So your protest could not be heard?”

“Enough about the freakin’ minivan,” Laura said sourly. “I will not have you turning her against my vehicle.”

“Sorry,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll let her come to her own conclusion that it’s an atrocity before mankind.”

He carried Caydee over to G and Neesh and made the formal introductions. They both exclaimed over her cuteness and then Jake gave her to Gordon to hold. He took the baby gingerly—he, like Matt, had never really held one before—but quickly warmed up to the experience. Caydee, who liked being held and talked to, quickly warmed up to G as well. She giggled and smiled at him. She grabbed at his nose with her little fingers though she still did not have the dexterity to get a good grip. G laughed at her antics.

“Tell me something, Jake,” he said. “Am I the first brother to hold this child?”

Jake thought about it for a moment. “Elsa holds her all the time,” he said, “so you’re not the first black person to hold her. But as for the first actual brother ... yeah, I guess you are.”

“Well, what do you know about that?” G asked. “It’s not instinctive.”

“What’s not instinctive?” Jake asked.

“For white women to be afraid of niggers like me,” he said plainly. “Sometimes we feel like it is, you know.”

“No,” Jake said, “I’m pretty sure the phenomenon you describe is learned behavior, instilled by a combination of parenting and societal influence.”

“Sad but true,” G said.

“Very philosophical of you to discuss inherent racial stereotypes,” Neesh said. “Now give me that baby. I need to hold her.”

Between Neesh, G, and Elsa, Jake and Laura spent very little time with their daughter in their arms during that visit. Caydee was quite content to be passed around from guest to guest like a joint. She had already learned that she enjoyed being the center of attention and she relished the affection.

Just before dinner, Laura slipped into Caydee’s room to feed her in privacy—she was very modest about exposing her breasts to people other than Jake, Celia, or Elsa—and then put her down for her last nap before bedtime. When she came back into the family room she went immediately to the bar and started mixing herself a gin and tonic.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” she said with a smile as she tasted the first sip.

“It’s okay for you to drink while you’re breastfeeding?” Neesh asked.

“Usually only one a night,” she said. “Tonight, however, I’m going to get drunk. I’ll just have to pump and dump tomorrow.”

“Pump and dump?” G asked.

“It’s just what it sounds like,” Laura told him. “I’ll drink tonight and then use the pump to get tomorrow’s milk out and then dump it down the sink. That way Caydee won’t get a little buzz of her own.”

“What will you feed Caydee then?” asked Neesh.

“I have lots of milk stored in the refrigerator and the freezer,” Laura explained. “My supply is greater than Caydee’s demand. I still can’t smoke pot though. The THC is fat soluble and will stay in the milk longer.”

“Enough to get her high?” G asked.

Laura shrugged. “Probably not,” she said, “but I really don’t want to take the chance,”

“That’s right,” Jake said. “Caydee can wait until she’s in high school to try it for the first time. She can do it in the bathroom between classes, just like everyone else.”

Laura’s abstinence did not preclude the rest of them from imbibing, however. The four of them went out onto the deck to watch the sun go down and Jake fired up a nice fatty he had rolled earlier. He, Neesh, and G passed it around while Laura looked on with envy. It had been a year since she had last enjoyed some good bud. Two more months, she thought as she relished the odor of the burning marijuana. Get Caydee weaned and then I’m toking up like there’s no tomorrow.

Caydee woke up just after dinner, while Elsa was cleaning up the kitchen and the rest of them were listening to music, drinking, and talking in the family room. G and Jake were discussing their latest collaboration tune that they had been working on in fits and starts for nine months now. G was about ready to hit the studio in Oakland and start recording. Jake agreed to spend a good portion of the next week in the Compton rehearsal studio with G and his boys so they could finalize the project.

Caydee spent another hour and a half being passed around from G to Neesh and then back again. Elsa had, by this point, retired to her quarters and was no longer in the rotation. At 9:30, Laura, who was a bit beyond tipsy at this point, took the baby into her bedroom and gave her a bath in the little insert in the tub. Once she was clean and dressed in her jammies, she then carried her back to Jake, who fed her one of her bottles. Once she had her fill, he told everyone to tell her goodnight, that it was her bedtime.

“How long will she sleep for?” asked Neesh.

“She’s getting pretty good at staying down at night now,” Laura said. “She’ll usually sleep from ten until about six or so.”

“Six o’clock in the morning?” asked G with a wince. “You call that pretty good?”

“It’s a lot better than having her wake up every three hours,” Jake said. “You take what you can get in the baby world.”

“Man,” said G, shaking his head. “The fuckin’ sun ain’t even up at that time of morning.”

“I can verify that,” Laura said with a giggle.

Jake carried his daughter into her room and laid her down in her crib. By this point in her existence, she no longer liked being swaddled. In fact, it was a chore just to keep her blankets on her. She snuggled into the mattress and looked up at her father in anticipation. She knew what came next.

Jake walked to the corner of the room where his old Fender was leaning against the wall. He carried it over and sat in the chair next to the crib, where Caydee could see him well. He began to strum the guitar. She cooed happily at the sound of it. She really liked listening to her daddy play and sing for her.

He started with one of her favorites: Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues. He sang the first two verses and the choruses for her—emphasizing the ‘I love you’ parts—and then gave her a little Zeppelin, playing Going to California. For the finale, he began to strum out the melody that she had always enjoyed when she had been in Laura’s belly—the tune in which she had come by her name. As she had done in utero, she kicked her little legs in cadence with the rhythm. Jake played the melody for her over and over again, his fingers moving automatically, his eyes watching her as her eyes grew heavier and started to droop. Finally, she was asleep, but her little legs kept kicking a little until he stopped the music. She fussed for a moment and then went back to sleep.

He stood slowly. “Good night, little girl,” he whispered to her, kissing the tip of his finger and then touching it to her cheek. “Sleep tight.” He smiled one more time. “I love you.”

He put the guitar back down and then left the room, turning off the lights but leaving the door open. As had been the case in Oregon, they used no baby monitor for fear of someone intercepting the take from it.

He went and rejoined the gathering, making himself another drink first and foremost.

Meghan Zachary sat at the dining room table in the formal dining room. It was 11:00 AM, two days after Laura had bought the new minivan, and she was here for her final interview for the job of nanny to the Kingsleys. She had been told to dress casually for the event and she had done so. She was wearing a pair of black slacks and a button-up blouse. Her brunette hair was down and flowing over her shoulders, though it was neatly styled. She had cubic zirconia studs in her ears and a Christian cross on a chain around her neck. Her face was pretty, a younger version of her sister’s, but her body was a little bigger than Danielle’s and she was just a little shorter. She was not fat by any stretch of the imagination, but full-bodied—the kind of body where weight might be an issue later in life but currently was not. She had a healthy set of young breasts on her and while Jake managed to keep his eyes from dropping to them, Laura could not help but catch little peeks every now and then. She really did enjoy the sight of a nice pair of healthy boobs.

“First of all,” Jake told her, “before we go any further here, I have to ask: Do you want the position?”

“Oh yes,” she said immediately. “It would be a dream job! Living here in your house, taking care of just one baby. I’m all in for this.”

“Don’t you want to hear the particulars?” Laura asked. “You know? How much we’ll be paying you? Benefits? That kind of thing.”

“Whatever it is, it’s better than what I have now,” Meghan said brightly. “I’m making a little over six dollars an hour for twenty-four hours a week and have no benefits at all. No health insurance, no sick time, no vacation time. And I live with my parents, who are good people and they love me and I love them, but they can be a bit overbearing and I would rather live somewhere else.”

“I suppose that’s a good way to look at it,” Jake said. “Shall we discuss salary and other compensation now?”

“Sure!” she chirped. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“We are prepared to pay you two thousand dollars a month for being our nanny,” Jake said.

Meghan’s eyes got very wide. “Two thousand dollars ... a month?”

“That is correct,” Jake said.

“Oh ... wow,” she said. “Just wow, I mean. That’s like three times as much as I make now.”

“That is pre-tax,” Jake pointed out. “And for forty hours a week of actual work time instead of twenty-four. But that is only monetary compensation. You will also have the benefit of room and board here in the house and a parking spot in the garage. If you need to take Caydee somewhere in your vehicle, we will compensate you for the fuel you use. In addition, we will foot the bill for a comprehensive health insurance, dental, and vision plan. You will have weekends off for the most part, but if we do need to use you on a weekend or at night, we will pay you time and a half of your average hourly rate, which, when we do the math for an average of forty hours per week divided by two thousand dollars per month, is...” He looked at some figures he had scribbled on a piece of paper. “ ... twelve dollars and fifty cents per hour, time and a half of which would be eighteen dollars and seventy-five cents per hour.”

“Wow,” she said again. She then looked at the couple carefully. “And this is just for ... you know ... taking care of Caydee for you, right?”

“What else would it be for?” Jake asked. “Your duties will be well-defined.”

“Uh ... well ... when I told my mom and dad about this job ... they ... uh ... they didn’t want me to take it. They wanted me to stay away from you two.”

“Because of our reputation?” Laura asked.

“Yes,” Meghan said. “They’ve heard all kinds of things about you two. That you have orgies up here, that you do drugs all the time, that you even ... you know ... rape women. They’re afraid that you’ll sell me into white slavery or something if I work for you.”

“If we sold you into white slavery,” said Jake, “then who would take care of Caydee when we’re working?”

She looked at him for a moment and then laughed. “I guess that’s a good point,” she said. “Anyway, I like you two and I get good vibes off of you, but ... you know ... I just want to make sure that all you’re paying me for is to be the nanny and that there are no misunderstandings about that.”

“We believe in compensating our employees well,” Jake said. “We have no plans of trying to seduce you, do drugs with you, or rape you. And I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for a good white slavery broker.”

She laughed again. “Understood,” she said.

“There is however,” Jake went on, “one very important thing apart from taking care of Caydee that will be specifically spelled out in your work agreement and that we insist you agree to and abide by.”

“What’s that?” she asked carefully.

“Privacy,” Jake said.

“Privacy?” she asked.

“You are going to be living in our house with us,” Laura explained. “You are going to see the real Kingsleys if you take this job. Not the Kingsleys that the media like to portray us as, not the Kingsleys you are probably envisioning in your mind, not even the Kingsleys that we like to think we are, but the real us. All the good, all the bad, all the juicy gossip.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice cautious again. “And ... uh ... what are the real Kingsleys like? I think I should probably get an idea of where you’re going with this before I sign my name anywhere.”

“I think you’re right,” Jake said. He looked over at Laura for a moment and she nodded.

“Tell her,” she said.

“Tell me what?” she asked, her tone wavering between fear and curiosity.

“First of all,” Jake said, “let me assure you that we are not talking about anything illegal under the law—not really anyway. The only truly illegal thing we do here is to smoke a little weed. I’m sure that does not surprise or shock you.”

“No, not at all,” Meghan said. “I pretty much just assumed that you did that. You are musicians, after all.”

Jake smiled. “Good point,” he said. “We also drink alcohol, probably more than your average person does, but again, that is not illegal. We do not use any hard drugs. I used to do a little cocaine back in the Intemperance days, but haven’t touched a single flake in many years. I have never used meth or hallucinogens or ecstasy or anything like that. I do not plan to start using such things.”

“Okay,” Meghan said. “That’s all good, I guess.”

“However, there is something that we do indulge in that, while not illegal, we do not wish to become general knowledge. It is a particularly juicy piece of gossip that, if you mentioned it to a single person you know, would spread like wildfire from that point. It is something that you will not be able to help but notice, I’m afraid, and it is something we must be able to trust you to keep to yourself.”

“Wow,” she said. “This sounds pretty intriguing.”

“Indeed it is,” Jake said. “We have made the decision to tell you our secret now, at this interview, before you sign the nondisclosure agreement you will have to sign to accept the position.”

“But ... if I don’t sign the agreement first,” she said, “then there is nothing to keep me from blabbing whatever it is you are going to tell me.”

“That is true to some degree,” Jake said, “but we’re going to do it anyway. We want you to know what you are getting yourself into and what level of secrecy we will require of you. If you decide that you can’t keep something like this secret, please tell us now and then feel free to go out into the world and blab what you know. We won’t be able to stop you. Of course, we will deny the story and you will have no proof of what you accuse, so the damage would be minimal to us. It is only after you have worked closely for us for a few months and were able to provide details, times and dates, specific actions, and possibly even photos or audio recordings, that your knowledge would truly become believable.”

“I think I understand,” she said slowly. “Is this about ... you know ... Satanic rituals though? If that’s what you’re talking about then I’m not sure I can take the job. I’m a Christian girl, after all.”

Jake laughed. “No, it isn’t about Satanic rituals or any other kind of occult worship. I am agnostic. Laura is a lapsed Mormon. Neither of us would know the first thing about Satanism.”

“Okay,” Meghan said. “Then ... uh ... what is it?”

Jake looked over at Laura. He gave her the nod.

“Okay,” she said, blushing a little in advance. “Here it is.” She took a deep breath. “I am ... uh ... bisexual.”

Meghan looked at her carefully. “Bisexual? You mean ... you like girls?”

“I am primarily attracted to men,” Laura said, “but yes, I do have a certain degree of sexual attraction to women as well.”

“Okayyy,” Meghan said. “And that’s your secret?”

“Only part of it,” Laura said. “And, before it occurs to you to wonder, no, I am not going to try to seduce you. I will admit that I think you’re kind of cute, but you are far too young for my tastes and I would never want to engage with an employee anyway.”

“That’s uh ... good to know,” Meghan said. “I’m not really into chicks anyway.”

“I didn’t think I was either until I was considerably older than you are now,” Laura said. “But that’s neither here nor there. I tell you this not because I want to get it on with you. I tell you this because it is a secret part of our lives that you will become privy to if you work here. It is a part of our lives that you must keep secret.”

“I understand,” Meghan said, “but people already say that about you. There were all those reports about you and those girls from the audience on your last tour. They even said that you and Celia Valdez were ... you know ... doing it with each other.”

“That was media gossip,” Jake said. “They had absolutely no proof that any of that took place. They were just reporting on the blabbings of a disgruntled copilot who did not know the code of the mission.”

“The code of the mission?”

“Never mind that,” Jake said. “The point is that there was no proof that Laura was doing that, so it remains in the realm of speculation only. You, on the other hand, if you chose to, would be able to provide proof of what Laura does in the privacy of her own home.”

“And ... uh ... sometimes she does it with women here?” Meghan asked.

“Not just any woman,” Laura said. “There is one in particular.”

“Who is she?” Meghan blurted, and then blushed. “Uh ... I mean ... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“Maybe not, but we will answer,” Laura said. “The woman is Celia Valdez.”

Meghan’s eyes got wide. “It’s true then?” she asked. “What they said about you two?”

“Well, it wasn’t true at the time they said it,” Laura said. “It is, however, true now. Celia is bisexual as well. And ... well ... in for a penny, in for a pound, I guess ... I am not the only one she is having a sexual relationship with.”

“Who else?” Meghan asked.

“That would be me,” Jake said simply.

Meghan looked sharply at him. “No way!” she blurted.

“Way,” Jake said. “In fact, Celia and Laura are only allowed to be intimate with each other if I am involved as well. The same applies for me and Celia. Laura must be involved. Now, most of the time we engage in this activity at Celia’s house, but there are occasions when we do it here as well.”

“So ... so ... the three of you, all three ... you ... you do it with each other?”

“We do,” Laura confirmed.

“And that doesn’t bother you?” she asked Laura. “Seeing your husband and Celia Valdez getting it on?”

“No,” Laura said. “It’s actually quite erotic to be a part of such a thing.”

“Wow,” Meghan said again.

“So, that is our secret,” Jake said. “We have others, of course, but nothing quite in line with what we just told you. Have we shocked you?”

“A little bit,” she admitted.

“Does the fact that we do this offend you?” he asked next. “Is it a deal breaker for you? Are you offended enough by bisexuality and lesbianism that you do not feel you can work for us?”

She thought about this for a moment and then shook her head. “No, it doesn’t bother me,” she said. “Whatever consenting adults want to do is their business, isn’t it?”

“That’s what we believe,” Jake said, “but there are plenty of people who do not believe that.”

“It’s not a deal breaker,” she said. “I’m still just trying to absorb it.”

“Understandable,” Jake said. “Now, for the most important question. Can you work here and keep your mouth shut about what you see, hear, smell, and know? Can you promise not to tell your sister, your preacher, your best friend, your lover, not just now, but ever. Because the nondisclosure agreement is forever. If you quit here in two months, you are still bound by the NDA forever.”

Again, she thought this over for a moment and then nodded. “I can do it,” she said.

“You are one hundred percent sure of this?” Jake asked. “No chance you might have a few too many with your girlfriends one night and spill the beans about some juicy gossip you know about the Kingsleys?”

“No chance,” she said. “What happens in this house stays in this house.”

Jake and Laura shared another look. They then shared another nod.

“All right then,” Laura said. “Welcome aboard. Shall we start going over your actual duties now?”

“Let’s do it,” Meghan said with a smile.