Snowblind

Chapter 16: I Remember You

Los Angeles, California

October 6, 1995

“I’m fucking out of here,” Matt said, spinning on his heal and turning himself to walk back out the door.

“Matt, wait a minute!” Crow said, pleading in his voice.

“I’ll be leaving too,” said Jake. He stood from his chair.

“Gentlemen!” said Doolittle. “We’re all adults here, aren’t we? At least stay long enough to hear what we’re proposing!”

“Right,” said Crow. “The financial gains to be realized by our suggestion would be innumerable!”

“Unimaginable!” Doolittle added.

Matt paused, which forced Jake to pause as well, unless he wanted to physically push by the guitarist to exit the office. He did not want to do that. It was entirely possible that if he and Matt made physical contact with each other, blows would result. He did take a moment to look at the man, however. Matt wasn’t looking so hot since the last time Jake had seen him—what was it? Five years ago now? He had lost weight and he looked at least ten years older than his thirty-six years. His hair was thinner, his skin color was not right, looking far too pale, with a hint of grayness.

“What is this shit about?” Matt demanded. “Did you bring us here to try to talk us into putting Intemperance back together? Because you can just take a flying fuck if that’s the case.”

“Amen to that shit,” Jake said. “You two have a lot of fucking nerve, bringing two people who are quite on record as not wanting to be around each other into your office without telling them.”

“Goddamn right,” Matt agreed. “Do you assholes think this stunt is helping you get me to sign for the next contract period? You think I’m not going to remember this shit?”

“Or me?” asked Jake. “You probably just got our latest master CDs in the mail, didn’t you? Do you really think pissing off one of the KVA owners is in your best interest?”

“Gentlemen,” Doolittle said, “I understand the emotion of the moment here. Really, I do. But hear us out before you storm out of here.”

“That’s right,” said Crow. “At least give us the courtesy of listening to our proposal.”

Jake looked over at Matt, who was still standing in the doorway, one foot out the door. Matt looked back at him. They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. Finally, Jake gave a little shrug. Matt hesitated a little longer and then returned the gesture. He stepped back inside the office and closed the door behind him.

“All right,” Matt said. “Make this shit fast. My patience is already in the fucking negative.”

“Absolutely,” Doolittle said, smiling. “Why don’t you two have a seat?”

“I’ll stand,” Jake said. “I don’t think this is going to take long.”

“Me too,” said Matt.

“As you wish,” Doolittle told them. “Before we get started, would either of you like a refreshment? Maybe a line or two of...”

“Just fucking tell us why we’re here!” Matt yelled.

“All right, all right,” Doolittle said, projecting hurt feelings. “There’s no need to raise your voice, Matt.”

“I’m gonna be raising my fucking fist in a few seconds,” Matt threatened. “And it ain’t Kingsley it’s going to be flying at. You dig?”

“I dig,” Doolittle said. “I’m sorry for the deception. Sincerely sorry. But I really thought it would be in the best interest of everyone if the two of you met face to face on neutral ground so we can discuss matters of mutual interest.”

“And what would those ‘matters of mutual interest’ be?” asked Jake.

Doolittle put that car salesman grin on his face in all of its glory. “We think the time has come for an Intemperance reunion tour,” he said.

Matt’s glare became downright dangerous looking. “You did not just fucking say that to me,” he said.

“Now ... hear us out, Matt,” Crow said.

“Yeah,” said Jake brightly. “Let’s hear them out, Matt.”

Matt’s head whipped around. He glared at Jake. “Hear them out? Are you high?”

“Not at all,” Jake said. “I’m sure that Mr. Doolittle and Mr. Crow here have a perfectly good reason for believing that me and you, two people who had a very public, very personal, and very nasty parting of ways five years ago, will be willing to put our differences aside and get the boys back together so they can make a little money off of us. I mean, doesn’t it seem perfectly reasonable that I will forget all of my petty little grievances about a man who publicly accused me of murdering a good friend and bandmate; who then convinced said bandmate’s mother to not allow me to attend his funeral; who has gone on record time and time again repeating those accusations and declaring that he will—and I quote—’never stand on a stage with any member of Intemperance again, as long as I live’. Very reasonable, right? Why don’t we just hear them out?”

“You see, Matt,” Doolittle said. “Jake knows where we’re coming from.”

Matt slowly turned his head back to Doolittle. “I believe that that was sarcasm, Doolittle,” he informed him blankly.

“It was?” Doolittle asked, looking over at Jake.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “It was. There will be no reunion. Not now. Not ever.”

“A-fuckin’-men to that shit,” Matt said.

“But ... but ... don’t you two understand?” Doolittle pleaded. “Classic rock concerts at market value pricing is the up-and-coming trend in the industry! The Eagles started it and Celia Valdez helped set the precedent. Everyone is jumping on the bandwagon now. Styx has reunited and is right now putting together a national tour. Bad Company, Def Leppard, and REO Speedwagon are working on tours as well. I even heard a rumor that Journey will be reuniting to get in on this action. Journey! For the love of God, if Steve Perry and Neal Schon can put aside their differences in the name of profit, surely you two can as well!”

“Don’t call me Shirley,” Jake said, deadpan.

“What?” Doolittle yelled.

“I was gonna say that,” Matt pouted. “Only I was gonna say, ‘don’t fucking call me Shirley’.”

“That is more fitting coming from you,” Jake agreed.

“Listen, guys,” Crow cut in. “Do you have any idea how much an Intemperance reunion tour would bring in? It would set the new gold standard for ticket prices! Seriously! We’re talking a hundred and fifty dollars for the fucking nosebleed seats in the back! Two hundred dollars for the side bleachers. Floor seating will be four hundred dollars apiece behind the soundboard and six hundred to a thousand for the stagefront seats! We’re talking more than a million dollars in raw, unadulterated profit per show!”

Jake could not help but whistle at these figures. “You really think people would pay that much?” he asked.

“We know they will!” Doolittle said. “Market research has already been done!”

“That is some pretty good coin,” Matt said pensively.

“Yes, it is,” Crow said. “Can you understand now why we felt the need to get you two together and talk about this?”

Jake nodded. “I do understand why you felt that need,” he said. “How about you, Matt? Do you understand?”

“Fuckin’ A,” Matt said. “I probably would have done the same in their shoes.”

“Me too,” Jake said.

Doolittle and Crow were both grinning now. “Then you’ll consider what we’re suggesting?” Doolittle asked.

“Fuck no,” Matt spat. “I was just saying I understood why you did it. There’s no way in hell I’m ever going to play with this fucking sellout again. I thought I’d made myself clear on that point.”

“As did I,” said Jake. “I wouldn’t have this asshole up on my stage if he were the last guitarist on Earth. Not after all the shit he’s put me through. Intemperance is dead, guys. You need to accept that.”

“Well put,” Matt told Jake.

“Thanks,” Jake said with a nod.

“And, now that that is said,” Matt said, “it’s time for me to fuck off.” He stepped forward and glared at the two record company suits with a dangerous expression. “Don’t you ever pull any shit like this again,” he warned them. “I played nice this time. Next time, I’ll be kicking someone’s ass.”

With that, he turned and opened the office door. He stepped through it and then slammed it behind him, leaving Jake alone with Doolittle and Crow.

Jake looked at the closed door for a moment and then turned back to the desk. “You two didn’t really think that was going to work, did you?”

“Yes,” Doolittle said. “Actually, we did. We were counting on your common financial sense overriding your past grievances.”

“They’re pretty strong grievances,” Jake pointed out.

“How can you two turn down that kind of money?” Crow asked, almost cried. “More than a million dollars per show, with a minimum sixty set tour. I don’t understand.”

“Because, Crow,” Jake explained, “there are some things that are more important than money. Things like honor and integrity.”

Crow shook his head in disgust. “I always knew you were a communist, Jake.”

Jake hung out in Doolittle’s office for a few more minutes, and then in the outer office for a few more before heading downstairs. He wanted to give Matt enough time to leave the premises so they would not run into each other again. When he figured enough time had gone by, he went to the elevator and pushed the call button. The car arrived and he stepped in, riding it back down to the lobby.

As he stepped out through the main lobby door and into the valet area, he saw that he had not waited long enough. Matt was sitting on a planter, talking angrily into his cellular phone to someone. Sitting next to him was a guy in his thirties with a rolling suitcase. Jake had no idea who the suitcase guy might be.

“Heading out already, Mr. Kingsley?” asked the Hispanic valet who had parked Jake’s truck earlier.

“Yeah, it was a short meeting,” Jake said, handing him the valet slip.

The man looked over at Matt. “Were you and Mr. Tisdale in the same room together?” he whispered.

“For a few minutes,” Jake said.

“Is Intemperance going to get back together?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” Jake said simply. “How about you go get my truck for me, amigo? I’ve already wasted too much of my day here.”

“Right away,” the valet said. He disappeared into the parking garage.

Jake pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his wallet to tip him with and then stood waiting. He glanced over at Matt again. Matt had just turned off his phone and clipped it to his belt. He seemed quite unhappy. Acting on an impulse he did not quite understand, Jake walked over to him.

“No ride?” he asked.

Matt looked up him. “My limo went out on another run,” he said. “That fucking asshole Crow told the driver I’d be up there at least two hours. Two motherfucking hours! Can you believe that shit?”

“He seemed pretty confident that we would play ball,” Jake said. He then looked at Matt’s companion, who was staring at him in amazement. “Who are you?” he asked.

Matt looked over and then seemingly remembered his manners. “Oh ... sorry,” he said. “Jake Kingsley, this is Jim Ramos, my tour paramedic. Jim, meet Jake.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Jake,” Jim said, holding out his hand.

Jake shook with him. “A tour paramedic? What’s that all about?”

“Sometimes my heart does this funky shit,” Matt said. “My man Jim is here to put it back into low gear when that happens.”

“Really?” Jake asked. “What kind of funky shit?”

“It’s nothing,” Matt said dismissively.

“All right then,” Jake said with a shrug. “Are you still staying over at your pad downtown when you’re in LA?”

“Yeah, the same condo I bought back in the day,” Matt said. “We’ll be heading to St. Louis first thing in the morning. I got a show there tomorrow night.”

“They pulled you off tour for this shit?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Can you fuckin’ believe it?”

“And they flew you here private?”

“They did,” Matt said. “From KC. We got in just past midnight.” He shook his head. “I could’ve fucking told them last night how this was gonna go down and saved everyone the goddamn trouble.”

“Me too,” Jake agreed. “Listen, I can give you a lift to your pad if you want.”

Matt’s face turned to a scowl. “A ride?” he asked suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “It’s not that far. And it’s kind of on my way.” It really wasn’t. Jake would be heading back to the valley and Whiteman Airport so he could get back to his Oceano home. Downtown was actually in the opposite direction from Hollywood. But he was still following an impulse.

“Why would you want to give me a ride?” Matt asked. “Maybe you want to try talking me into this reunion thing?”

“No,” Jake said sincerely. “That is not the reason.”

“Maybe you were in on this the whole time,” Matt suggested. “Maybe them sending my limo away was part of the plan.”

“Matt,” Jake said simply, “you’re starting to sound like Coop when we talk about the moon landings or the Challenger explosion. I’m just offering you a ride because it’s the decent thing to do. Sure, our friendship ended badly and there’s a lot of uncomfortable baggage between us, but we were pretty tight once, right?”

“Well ... right,” Matt admitted.

“You and I did some unbelievable things together back in the day. We made some badass music, we boned some serious groupies, we even stuck it up the asses of those suits in there. Remember all that?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, smiling a little now. “I remember.” He turned to Jim. “Me and this guy used to get up to some epic shit together. Amazing shit. Shit for the fuckin’ ages!” He turned back to Jake. “Remember that time they sent us to that fuckin’ movie premier? And we fuckin’ toked up in that fancy ass shitter while those fuckin actors and producers were snorting their coke and acting like they were all better than us?”

Jake laughed, shaking his head. “I remember,” he said. He turned to Jim. “That was the movie premier where I first met Mindy Snow. Thinner Than Water, I think it was. A stupid flick, really, but they all acted like it was Gone With the fucking Wind and Schindler’s List combined. Everyone in that place had a stick up their ass and was walking around with their nose in the air. Matt drags me into the bathroom and pulls out a joint and sparks it up, right in front of these snooty tuxedo wearing Hollywood assholes. They look at us like we’re dogshit on the bottom of their shoes, and Matt just looks at them and says, “you guys want a hit of this? I’m not a Bogart.’”

All three of them started laughing at this tale.

“That’s awesome,” Jim declared. “What did they say?”

“They didn’t say shit,” Matt said. “They left that fuckin’ shitter like they were on fire.”

“Goddamn hypocrites,” Jake said. He turned back to Matt. “And that was the night you fucked that actress, right?”

“Yeah!” Matt said. “What the fuck was her name? Holy shit, I can’t remember it now. Some blonde bitch who is probably doing late-night infomercials or some shit like that these days. One of the worst lays I’ve ever had. She wouldn’t slurp my schlong, wouldn’t take it from behind, just laid there on her back like she was on a goddamn autopsy table waiting for a postmortem. The only time I got her to move was when I pulled out my shit and splooged on her face. She didn’t dig that at all.”

“What did she do?” asked Jim.

“Bitch started hitting me with a fuckin’ blow dryer,” he said, shaking his head. “Chased me out of the goddamn building.”

All three of them had a laugh about that. Just as the chuckles faded away, Jake’s truck emerged from the garage and parked in front of the entry doors. The young uniformed Hispanic hopped out.

“Come on,” Jake said. “My truck is here. Let me give you a lift home.”

“You bought a fucking truck?” Matt asked in disbelief.

“It’s my LA vehicle,” Jake said. “I only use it when I’m in town. It’s practical. I can haul things in it if I need to or I can use the four-wheel drive to get over the passes if it’s snowing and my plane is grounded.”

Matt continued to look at the F150 for a few moments. “Funky,” he said at last. “All right. We’ll go with you as long as you don’t start talking no shit about a fuckin’ Intemperance reunion.”

“I will talk no shit like that,” Jake promised.

“And ... as long as you understand that I still fucking hate you, that I still think you’re a sellout,” Matt added.

“Understood,” Jake said. “As long as you understand that I still think you are an unreasonable asshole who pouts like a fucking baby when he doesn’t get his way.”

Matt gritted his teeth a little at this but nodded. “Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s hit it.”

They hit it, Jake climbing behind the wheel, Matt getting into the front passenger seat, Jim and his suitcase settling into the spacious back seat. Jake tipped the valet and dropped the transmission into gear. He pulled out onto Hollywood Boulevard and started heading for downtown.

“I heard you got married not too long ago,” Matt said as they worked their way through the late morning traffic.

“Yeah,” he said, showing Matt the ring on his left hand. “Laura was the sax player for Celia and me on our first solo releases. We kind of hit it off. Our first anniversary is next month. November 4.”

“You didn’t invite me to the wedding,” Matt grumbled.

“What?”

“The wedding,” Matt said. “I saw that shit on TV and that was the first I heard about it. You had Coop there, Nerdly and his bitch, even Freakboy, but you didn’t even send me an invitation.”

“Uh ... it didn’t occur to me that you would want to be there,” Jake said slowly.

“I didn’t,” Matt said. “I would’ve just wiped my ass with the invite and sent it back to you, postage due. But you still should have invited me. All the other living Intemperance members were there.”

Jake looked over at him for a moment, seeing that he was serious. He then put his eyes back on the road. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I get married,” he said.

“You do that,” Matt said. “How is it?”

“Being married?”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “I never thought you’d do something like that. I mean, you love gash as much as I do, right? And you can have almost any bitch you want. How is any one bitch worth it?”

“She just is,” Jake said, knowing that Matt was incapable of understanding. “There’s a lot to be said for being married. Laura and I have a lot in common. We’re both musicians, we both like to fuck. We love each other. It works out.”

“But isn’t it like looking at the same fucking porno mag every day?” Matt asked. “Doesn’t nailing the same pussy all the time get old?”

“Not really,” Jake said. “There’s more to a relationship than just pussy. Having meaningless sex was all right back in the early days, but I like the relationship part of being with a woman long-term. We’re a team and Laura is a great person to have on that team with me. She always has my back and I always have hers, no matter what. It’s us against the world. I like that.”

“Interesting,” Matt said thoughtfully, as if he were pondering the mating habits of African bush people during the rainy season.

“How about you?” Jake asked. “You and Kim still together?”

“We’re not together the way you mean it,” Matt said. “She hangs out at my house and we fuck, and I help her with her business. She has that porn company, you know. She pulls in pretty good coin with that and doesn’t have to fuck on camera anymore.”

“I’ve seen some of the videos she makes,” Jake said. “Good quality fuck films. I’m particularly fond of the amateur lesbian series.”

“Those are pretty fuckin’ hot,” Matt agreed.

“And they’re really amateur chicks?” Jake asked.

“Oh yeah,” Matt said. “It’s fuckin’ amazing how many hot sluts in LA are willing to get it on with another hot slut on camera. And most of them are doing it because they really want to try dyking out and this is their chance. They’re not doing it for the exposure, or the measly thousand bucks Kim pays them for the shoot. That’s what makes those videos so hot. They’re not really acting.”

“God bless America,” Jake said proudly.

“Fuck yeah,” Matt agreed.

They drove on in silence for a bit. It was not as awkward as it should have been. Matt was the one to break it.

“I heard that new tune you got going with Bigg G,” he said.

“I Signed That Line,” Jake said. “We’re getting a lot of airplay on the hards and the pops with that one. What do you think about it?”

“I really wanted to hate it,” Matt said. “You know? Because of our history?”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I understand.”

“But I don’t,” Matt said. “It’s a solid fuckin’ tune. You guys did a good job of fusing the two styles of music. And you even pulled off modulating the key back and forth. That’s something I’ve never had the balls to even try ... but maybe I’ll give it a shot.”

“We put a lot of work into that tune,” Jake said, smiling a little at Matt’s praise. “The lyrics were definitely from the heart.”

“Yeah,” Matt said. “A punch in the face at National fucking Records and their first-time contracts.”

“You picked up on the meaning,” Jake said.

“Couldn’t help it,” Matt said with a shrug. “You’ve done some good work with your other solo shit too. A little mellower than I’m really into, but good solid tunes.”

“Thanks,” Jake said. “I’ve been listening to your shit as well.”

“And what do you think?”

“You were off to a good start with Next Phase, and I could see what you were trying to do, but you should’ve let them engineer that a little bit. It was hard to enjoy it raw like that. It was like a piece of pork loin that wasn’t cooked through, you know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” Matt said softly. “A common complaint about that CD.”

“The shit you’ve put out since then, though...” He nodded his head. “Solid, Matt. Really fuckin’ solid. Your guitar playing has evolved a lot since the Intemp days.”

“I think that’s mostly because I’m not tied down to a particular sound like I was with Intemp,” Matt suggested. “I can do all the palm-muted chords I want now. I don’t have to worry about how to fit a fucking piano into the rhythm.”

“That’s part of it,” Jake agreed. “But a lot of it is just your innovation. The stuff you do with the effects pedals is amazing. How do you get those kinds of sounds out of that old Strat of yours?”

“Experimentation,” Matt said. “I plug in all the effects pedals and start fucking around with different combos until something catches my ear. And then I start fucking around with that, trying different chords, different riffs, different solos and see what I can come up with.”

“I like it,” Jake said. “It’s very unique, very powerful at times.”

“It’s what I do,” Matt said. “I play the guitar.” He hesitated for a moment. “There’s something I want to ask you, while we’re talking about guitar playing.”

“What’s that?”

“Why didn’t you take credit for the guitar tracks on that beaner bitch’s CDs? Or on your own CDs?”

“You knew that was me, huh?” Jake asked.

“Of course I knew it was you,” Matt scoffed. “I’m fucking astounded that everyone who heard those cuts didn’t know it was you. Those riffs fucking screamed Jake Kingsley. And they were decent enough riffs too. Even the solos you did on some of the cuts—like the one in Playing Those Games—they’re nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed of them,” Jake said. “It’s just that they’re not Matt Tisdale riffs, not Matt Tisdale solos. I didn’t want the comparison game detracting from people’s enjoyment of the music. Especially if I’m not going to be coming out on top of that comparison.”

Matt considered this for a moment and then nodded. “I suppose that makes sense,” he said. “But you did take credit for the guitar parts in I Signed That Line. What’s the difference there?”

“A little agreement between G and I,” Jake said. “I’m playing some of his tour dates with him as a special guest.”

“I heard about that,” Matt said. “It must’ve felt good to step back up there after all this time.”

“It really did,” Jake said with a smile. “Anyway, since I’m playing some of the dates, G thought I needed to take credit from the beginning for the guitar tracks. I agreed to do that if he agreed to take credit for the piano tracks, and to play them onstage.”

Matt nodded. “That makes sense,” he said.

Another silence developed. The downtown high rises began to grow larger and larger before them. This time it was Jake who broke it.

“Hey,” he said, “you remember that time we went to Helen’s softball game in Ventura and that hoity-toity housewife bitch came up to Kim and asked her why she thought it was appropriate for a porn star to be there?”

Matt nodded his head enthusiastically, laughing. “Fuck yeah!” he said. “That trip was fuckin’ classic!” He turned to look at Jim, who had been silent as a mouse in the back seat. “That was right after Jake learned to fly. Helen was his instructor, and he was boning her the whole time he was taking lessons from her!”

“Not the whole time,” Jake said with a chuckle.

“Goddamn, did she have some fuckin’ titties on her,” Matt said nostalgically. “And she was a squirter too, right?”

“That’s right,” Jake said.

“Whoa,” said Jim, holding up a hand. “A squirter? You mean, like... really a squirter?”

“Really a squirter,” Jake confirmed. “When she came, it would come flying out at you and hit you in the face. Pussy juice, not pee. And if you were fucking her and she came, she’d leave a wet spot two feet wide.”

“No shit?” Jim whispered in awe. “I always thought that squirting was a myth.”

“So did I until I saw it,” Jake said.

They talked about Helen’s squirting, and Kim’s response to the hoity-toity housewife at the softball game (“at least I get paid to take a cock up my ass,” she’d told her. “You let your husband do it for free”). From there, Matt told the story of the time he and Jake and the rest of Intemperance had hotboxed the limousine on the way to the Grammy awards and then stepped out in front of the cameras while a cloud of marijuana smoke came pouring out.

“Those were the fuckin’ days,” Matt said nostalgically.

“Yep,” Jake agreed. “Remember when you asked Steve Billings to toke up with us?”

“I still think that would’ve been epic,” Matt said.

“It would have,” Jake agreed. He looked back at Jim again. “And then Coop askes Steve Billings to tell us some stories from Vietnam. He actually believed that old urban legend about how Billings had been a sniper there!”

“Billings was fucking cool about it though,” Matt said, laughing. “A shame what happened to him.” Billings had died last year in a plane crash when he ran out of fuel over Flathead Lake in Montana.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “You should always check your fuel level before you take off, on the gauges and visually. That’s like the first lesson Helen’s dad taught me.”

By now, they were on 6^th Street, just passing Pershing Square. Matt’s condominium building was right in front of them. Jake pulled into the entryway and stopped in front of the doors. He put the truck in park.

“Well ... here you are,” he said.

“Yeah,” Matt said, nodding a little. “Here we are.”

Jim opened the back door and climbed out. He pulled his suitcase out and sat it on the ground next to him.

Matt looked over at Jake. “Thanks for the ride, dude,” he told him.

“No problem,” Jake said.

“I still fuckin’ hate you. You know that, right?” Matt asked him.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “The feeling is mutual.”

“But ... we had some good times together before shit went south, and ... while I might hate you these days ... I respect you. I always have. Always will. You dig?”

“I dig,” Jake said. “And that feeling is mutual as well.”

Matt made a fist and held it out to Jake. Jake looked at it for a moment and then made one of his own. He tapped his fist to Matt’s a single time.

“Take it easy, Matt,” Jake told him.

“I’ll take it any way I can get it,” Matt replied. He closed the door and headed for the entrance. Jim fell in behind him. Jim looked back at Jake’s truck once, as if to confirm that the last twenty minutes had really happened.

Matt did not look back.

Jake and Laura stayed in their house in Oceano for the next week, neither of them climbing into their cars a single time. They slept in until late morning each day, enjoyed meals prepared by Elsa, went for long hikes on the trails through the sand dunes, frolicked on the beaches, had hot, steamy sex at least once per day, and stayed up late every night, drinking wine and smoking pot in their hot tub. They basked in the isolation of their new home. And Elsa was quite happy to have them there as well.

Alas, their solitude was destined to come to an end. At the end of that week, Jake got a phone call from Pauline.

“Aristocrat has the lowest bid for our CDs,” she told him. “They’re offering twenty-three percent, plus a fully funded Celia Valdez eighty date tour, plus a fully funded Jake Kingsley eighty date tour if you’re willing to do at least half of each set as Jake Kingsley written Intemperance material. They will pay all relevant licensing fees to National Records if you agree to this.”

“I already told them no on that shit,” Jake told her.

“I know, and I told them as well,” she said. “I’m just morally and ethically obligated to bring it up.”

“I understand,” Jake said. “What’s the next step?”

“We need to meet them on Monday for negotiation of the contract,” she said.

“There shouldn’t be much to negotiate, should there?” Jake asked.

“There shouldn’t,” she said, “but you know how those assholes play the game. We’ll need Celia, the Nerdlys, and Greg there, if he can make it.”

“His movie premier is on Thursday night,” Jake said. “He should be free.”

“I can’t wait for the premier,” Pauline said excitedly. “I’m sure it will be better than when you took me to The Northern Jungle premier. It would have to be.”

“Agreed,” Jake said. “Although that is where you signed up Celia as your client. That worked out pretty well, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it did,” she said. “How about you? Is it going to be awkward seeing Mindy again?”

“Undoubtedly,” Jake said. “But Greg is my friend and he really wants me to be there. If I can deal with seeing Matt Tisdale again, I can deal with Mindy Snow. Besides, I kind of want to check out this flick.”

“Because of Mindy Snow’s titties?” she asked. He could almost hear the smirk on her face.

“Been there, done that,” he said. “Got the fuckin’ t-shirt. A couple of them, in fact. No, because it really sounds like a good flick. I’m willing to suffer being in the same room as Mindy and watching Greg’s bare ass up on the big screen to see it.”

“Fair enough,” Pauline said.

And so, Jake and Laura climbed into the plane and flew to Whiteman Airport on Monday morning. They took Jake’s truck to Hollywood and met Celia, Greg, Pauline, Obie, and the Nerdlys at a hole-in-the-wall diner a few blocks away from the Aristocrat offices. They went over strategy for the upcoming meeting, agreeing on such things as deal-breakers (as any insistence of Jake doing Intemperance tunes would be) and non-negotiables (like any attempt to surrender promotional control or to micromanage Celia’s tour would be).

As it turned out, the meeting was almost anticlimactic. Fox and his merry men only suggested a Jake Kinsley tour doing Intemperance tunes once, and only tried to insert themselves into the promotional aspects of the CDs twice. And they tried no funny business with the contract wording at all. They were also more than happy with KVA’s proposal for the Celia Valdez tour. The two-and-a-half-hour set, no opening band, and, most importantly, the market value ticket prices, were music to Aristocrat’s ears. By the time the clock reached 1:30, the contract was signed by all parties and in effect.

“Now we need to start working on the tour,” Celia said.

“We’ll lease the same warehouse for you as last time,” Fox promised. “Is Larry Candid acceptable as your tour manager for this round?”

Celia nodded. Candid had been the manager for the last tour and, though he was an Aristocrat suit and a weasel, he was an experienced and effective tour manager who knew how to manage things on the road and, most importantly, knew that Celia was ultimately the one in charge. “He’ll work,” she said.

“We’ll have him start putting together a crew right away,” Fox said. “I’m assuming you want these CDs to start getting airplay and be released as soon as possible.”

“That’s right,” Jake said. “What’s the soonest that can happen?”

“We should have them manufactured by the first of November,” Fox said. “Distribution could be done by November 14^th. The promotions department should be able to do their job and get all the stations briefed in by November 21. That means you’ll be getting airplay just before Thanksgiving weekend and the CDs can be released for sale the first Tuesday in December.”

“That sounds doable,” Jake said. “I’ll start working on the promotional instructions tomorrow.”

“We can’t wait to see them,” Fox said, almost managing to sound sincere. He then turned back to Celia. “Do you think a first concert date of January 1^st would give you enough time?”

“That’s pushing it a little,” she said. “We’re going to need a new violinist. Natalie doesn’t want to go out this time.”

“Why not?” Fox asked.

“She and her pilot are going to get married,” Celia said. “She’s going to stay in Texas with him.”

“She’s throwing her career away ... for a man?” Fox asked, shaking his head sadly.

“She’s not throwing her career away,” Celia said. “She’s agreed to still play for us on subsequent workups and recordings. She just doesn’t want to tour. I’ll need you to dig up some touring caliber violinists so they can audition for me.”

“We can do that,” Fox said.

“Remember, looks don’t matter to me. We’re not making music videos; we’re putting on a show. Despite what you all think, nobody really cares what my musicians look like. I want quality violinists only. If they happen to be attractive like Natalie, that’s fine, but do not rule out anyone because of their looks if they can play.”

“As you wish,” Fox said sourly.

“Coop, Charlie, Little Stevie, Laura, and Liz are all on board for this next tour,” Celia said. “And they all worked on all of the music for Two as well, so they’re already familiar with it. If you can get me a violinist who can pick up and play new music quickly, we should be ready to go by the first of the year.”

“I’ll start working on that today,” Fox promised. “I may be able to get you some auditions set up by Thursday or Friday.”

“Make it Friday,” Celia said. “Greg’s premier is Thursday.”

“Your premier?” Fox asked the actor.

“The premier of my new film,” Greg said. “Us and Them.”

“I’ve heard about it,” Fox said. “With Mindy Snow, right?”

“Right,” Greg said. “The premier is Thursday night at Mann’s.”

“Well,” said Fox, a pout on his face, “it would seem my invitation to this premier must have gotten lost in the mail?”

Jake opened his mouth to say something. Greg did the same. Pauline silenced them both by putting her hands on their arms. “It would have been inappropriate to invite you to this event,” she said, “seeing as how there was an upcoming bid process and contract negotiation.”

“Oh ... well ... yes, of course,” Fox said. “I can certainly understand the concern.”

“Right,” Greg said. “Nothing personal, of course.”

“Of course,” Fox said. “But ... now that we’ve signed the contract that is no longer a concern, right?”

“Uh ... right,” Pauline said slowly. She had nothing to follow it up with.

Celia did, however. “I’m afraid all of the invites have already been issued,” she told Fox. “Maybe the next time?”

Fox frowned in disappointment, but he nodded his head. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said.

Jake and Laura stayed in their Granada Hills home that night. The next morning, they drove to Greg and Celia’s Los Angeles house. The two ladies climbed into Celia’s Mercedes so they could head to Rodeo Drive to do some shopping. Both needed formal dresses for the Us and Them premier. Jake and Greg, who both owned several custom fit tuxedos and therefore had their wardrobe for the premier covered, climbed into the Lexus and drove to the Ocean View Country club for a round of golf.

They all met back at Greg and Celia’s for dinner. They all drank a considerable amount of wine during the dinner and Jake did not feel comfortable driving back to Granada Hills. They accepted the offer to stay in the couple’s guest suite for the night.

“We’ve never fucked in this house before,” Laura pointed out.

“No,” Jake agreed. “We never have.”

“Have you?” she asked, giving him a wifely look.

“No,” Jake said honestly. He would not be able to say the same about Greg and Celia’s Palm Springs house—he had fucked Helen several times there, including once in the shower—but he felt no need to bring that into the discussion.

“I think we should probably do it then,” Laura said.

“Okay,” Jake agreed. “But keep your pillow handy—unless you want them to know what we’re doing.”

“I’ll keep it handy,” she said. And she did. And she used it appropriately when the time came.

They left after breakfast the next morning and flew back to Oceano. And then just after noon the next day—Thursday, the day of the premier—they flew back to Whiteman. They lounged around the Grenada Hills house until five o’clock in the afternoon and then they started to get ready for the formal event. Laura fussed over her makeup and her dress, asking Jake how she looked so many times he finally had to bark at her that she was beautiful and to stop asking. She pouted, but she stopped asking.

At six o’clock, the limousine showed up in front of their home. They walked out in their formalwear. Several of their neighbors were outside, gardening, getting their mail, gossiping, and they goggled at the sight. They still did not know who their neighbors were—none of them were young enough to be up on modern rock music personalities—but they all developed instant disapproval of them when they saw the long hair on Jake and the youthful beauty of Laura. Young people with money? No way that money could have been honestly earned. Before the limo even made it to the Nerdlys’ house, the rumor that international drug dealers had moved into the old Goldstein house were running rampant.

They picked up the Nerdlys and then headed to Silver Lake, where they picked up Pauline and Obie (Obie was rocking a black cowboy hat with his tuxedo and managed to pull it off). From there, it was another short drive to Hollywood through thickening evening traffic. Everyone enjoyed a few drinks on the trip.

At 7:30, the limo pulled to a stop in front of Mann’s Chinese Theatre—which had once been known as Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. A sea of entertainment media was already there, positioned on both sides of the roped off red carpet that led into the facility. The party of six stepped out of the limo and the cameras began to snap, the flashbulbs exploding from everywhere, creating afterimages in Jake’s vision.

“Jake! Jake!” someone shouted. “Is this the first time you’ve seen Mindy since she broke up with you?”

“Mrs. Kingsley!” someone else shouted at Laura. “How does it feel to be at a premier with Jake’s ex-girlfriend?”

There were some other questions shouted, most in that vein, some completely inarticulate. Jake answered none of the questions, not even with a ‘no comment’. Laura followed his example and did the same. The group walked slowly up the red carpet to the entrance of the theatre. Two tuxedoed security staff were guarding the entrance. Jake and Laura handed over their invitations. The guards dutifully checked their guest list and allowed them entry. They then did the same for the Nerdlys and Obie and Pauline.

The lobby was set up to be opulent and magnificent. Formally dressed men and women circulated among hors d’oeuvre tables and around two bars while champagne girls circulated about with their trays. At the end of the roped section, just where the room opened up, stood Greg Oldfellow in a tux and Celia Valdez in a beautiful flowing maroon gown. Standing opposite of Greg, dressed in a skimpy royal blue dress that showed an impressive amount of cleavage, was Mindy Snow. Her brunette hair flowed down to her shoulders. Her makeup was absolutely perfect. She was very beautiful, as she always had been. Her eyes looked at the latest guests coming in and lit up when she saw who they were. Her smile got wider as Jake and Laura approached.

Here we go, Jake thought, putting a phony smile on his face.

“Jake!” Mindy cried, rushing up to him. She held out her arms for a hug.

Jake hugged her, feeling the press of her breasts into his chest, smelling her perfume, feeling the softness of her body. She kissed him on the side of his jaw, just in front of his ear, leaving a little film of her saliva behind. Jesus fucking Christ, he thought, repressing a shudder. She did that right in front of Laura! In front of dozens of entertainment media cameras!

Jake extricated himself from her embrace as quickly as propriety allowed.

“It’s so good to see you, Jake!” Mindy gushed. “You look great!”

“Thanks,” Jake said. “You do too.”

“You’re so sweet,” she said with a giggle. She then turned to Laura, who was looking awkward and out of place at his side. “And you’re Mrs. Kingsley,” she said brightly. “I saw your wedding pictures in People. You’re even more beautiful in person.”

“Uh ... thank you, uh ... Mindy,” Laura said, blushing. “And you can call me Laura.”

“All right, I will,” she said, holding out her hand.

Laura hesitated for a moment and then shook with her. Mindy’s nails were done just so, in a color that matched her dress. Jake remembered a time when she suddenly and unexpectedly shoved two of those fingers as far as they would go up his ass while she was sucking his cock, triggering a violent and powerful ejaculation into her mouth (and causing some light bleeding whenever he took a shit for the next week). He shuddered again and pushed that image out of his brain.

“I hope you two enjoy the premier,” Mindy told them. “I honestly think it’s the best project I’ve ever worked on.”

“We can’t wait to see it,” Laura told her.

Jake then turned to Greg and Celia, grateful to be out of Mindy’s arm reach. Greg shook his hand and then gave Laura a big hug. Celia hugged both of them.

“Go ahead and mingle,” Greg told them. “Have a few drinks, have some hors d’oeuvres. We’ll start seating in the theatre in thirty minutes.”

“Let’s do it,” Jake told his wife. “I think I can use a drink about now.”

“Yeah, me too,” Laura said.

They stepped into the room and waited while Greg, Celia, and Mindy greeted the Nerdlys and then Pauline and Obie. Jake heard Mindy reminding Bill of their little trip to the high-roller area in Las Vegas back in the day. She did not mention that Nerdly ended up banging two high-class hookers and a VIP lounge cocktail waitress on Mindy’s dime. But it was obvious from the way that Bill was blushing that he was thinking about it. And then it was Obie and Pauline’s turn. Mindy shook Obie’s hand and complimented him on his hat. She told him that she enjoyed his music. Obie seemed to appreciate the sentiment. He certainly seemed to be enjoying the view down the front of Mindy’s dress that she was offering him. Mindy then gave Pauline a big hug and a kiss on the cheek as well. She brought up that same trip to Las Vegas, again, prudently not mentioning the studly craps dealer that had cleaned out Pauline’s cobwebs that night.

“All right, drinks,” Jake said once everyone was in the room.

“Yes,” said Sharon. “I think a double appletini is in order.”

They made their way to the nearest bar and ordered up. They then began to circulate around the food tables, picking up things that looked interesting and putting them on their plates. Jake did not know most of the people here, not on a personal basis anyway. They were primarily actors, directors, and upper echelon production team people. He did not introduce himself to anyone. No one introduced themselves to him.

“Mindy seems nice enough,” Laura observed as their little group of six found a corner to stand in and munch on their appetizers.

“So did Ted Bundy from what I hear,” Jake said. “Don’t trust her.”

“Oh ... I don’t,” Laura said. “I was just making an observation.”

“That dress certainly shows off her assets,” said Obie.

“Yeah,” Pauline said sadly. “Her tits are still fuckin’ fantastic. The bitch. She’s never had a baby chewing on them for six months.”

“Now, don’t be like that, darlin’,” Obie told her. “You still have a premium rack.”

“You really think so?” she asked.

“Goddamn right,” he said. “I’ll put your hogans up against Mindy Snow’s any old day of the week.”

“Awww,” said Sharon. “That’s so sweet.”

“I would volunteer to judge the competition,” Nerdly said, in all seriousness.

“I’m sure you would, Bill,” Pauline said with a laugh.

The crowd of three hundred special guests, twenty entertainment media representatives, and ten local movie critic writers were brought into the theatre and seated at 8:15 PM. At 8:30, the lights went down and the film began. It was in 35-millimeter with Dolby digital sound that boomed through the speakers in the room.

Jake did not think it was a good film. He thought it was a great film, one of the best and most thought-provoking he had ever seen. The story was believable. The realism was extraordinary and gritty at the same time. And the acting of Greg and Mindy was incredible. They actually had him seeing them up there on the screen, not as Mindy Snow, woman he had fucked and been used by countless times, and Greg Oldfellow, husband of Celia and lovably pompous ass, but as Lyndsay Brown, liberal reporter, and Frank Haverty, burned out, racist cop who kept his demons at bay with alcohol and cynicism. He actually felt himself feeling empathy for Haverty, understanding the message that you can’t work in the shitheap and be unaffected by your experiences there. He actually felt sorry for Lyndsay, who ended up questioning everything she had always believed in about crime and punishment and law enforcement.

And the sex scenes. They were about as tasteful as such scenes could possibly be, but very graphic, flirting with the very border between an R rating and an NC-17, just barely managing to stay on the R side. The scene in the parking lot, followed by the scene at Lyndsay’s condo, where the two of them tongue-kissed, where Lyndsay grabbed a handful of Haverty’s bare ass, where Haverty slurped one of Lyndsay’s nipples into his mouth while squeezing the other breast, followed by Lyndsay’s bare ass bouncing up and down atop Haverty’s lap. Jake actually found himself becoming a little aroused by the scene, springing a semi even. And not because he was seeing Mindy naked again, but because the scene was hot. The second sex scene, in the locker room of the police station, was shorter, not quite as graphic, but it had the same effect on him.

The climax of the movie was Haverty, Boot, and Lyndsay responding to a call of a domestic violence incident in progress on their last scheduled shift together—after Lyndsay had put an end to their brief, passionate affair; after Haverty decided to take Lyndsay’s advice and try to put his marriage back together. They knocked on the door of an apartment and then the sound of a gunshot came from inside, followed by the sound of a child screaming for help. Haverty and Boot ordered Lyndsay back to the stairwell (she did not go there, only moved a few yards down the hallway), drew their guns, requested cover, and kicked in the door. Inside, they found a dead woman on the couch, a gunshot wound to her face. Standing next to the couch was a girl of about ten years old, screaming and holding her mother’s hand.

“Who did this?” Haverty demanded of the child. “Where is he?”

The child pointed toward a hallway.

Before they could even start in that direction, a man stepped out of the dark and into the light, a pistol in his hand. He began firing indiscriminately. Haverty and Boot both returned fire (the first actual police gunfire in the entire film), riddling him with bullets and dropping him to the ground. They checked the girl, who was still screaming, and see she is uninjured. Haverty then starts to breathe deeply, as if he can’t quite catch his breath.

“Jesus Christ, Hav,” Boot says, horrified. “You’re hit!”

“I am?” Haverty says. He looks down to see a large spot of blood expanding on his right flank. His legs get weak and he sits down in a chair while Boot screams into his radio that there have been shots fired and an officer is down.

Lyndsay comes into the room at that point. She and Boot frantically remove Haverty’s uniform shirt and discover a hole in his chest just below his right armpit, an area the bullet proof vest does not cover.

His breathing gets worse and, while Lyndsay and Boot both beg him to hang in there, both promise him over and over that he’s going to be okay, he slumps over. His last words are to Lyndsay.

“When you ... write your ... your article ... tell it ... like it is. How it ... it really is out here.”

She promises him that she will do so.

The next scene is Haverty’s police funeral, the twenty-one-gun salute, the bagpiper on the hill, the formation of police helicopters flying over, his wife receiving a folded flag.

As the credits roll, Lyndsay’s voice begins reciting the article she penned. She tells it like it was, praising the men and women of Chicago PD who put their lives and, more significantly, their sanity on the line each and every day.

The credits finished up and the lights came up. The applause that erupted was not the polite smattering that had followed the premier of The Northern Jungle five years before, but genuine, heartfelt applause. The audience stood as one to give an ovation. Many (Jake, Laura, and even Obie included) were wiping at their eyes.

As Jake filtered out of the theatre portion with Laura on his arm, the Nerdlys and Obie and Pauline trailing behind, he heard the murmurs of the other attendees, discussing the film. He heard the phrase “guaranteed Oscar nominations” tossed around more than once; and not in a sarcastic manner.

“What did you think?” Jake asked Laura as they emerged back into the lobby area.

“That was a very powerful movie,” she said. “I felt like I was immersed into being a cop.”

“That’s right,” said Obie. “It made me think about what cops actually go through. I think I understand now why they beat my ass that time.”

“It was an interesting point of view,” said Pauline. “I wonder what Dad will think of it?” Their father was a retired ACLU lawyer who had been involved in multiple lawsuits for excessive force against police agencies.

“I would be very interested to hear his opinion on it,” Jake said.

“Did anyone else find the sex scenes a little awkward?” Laura asked. “I mean ... that was Greg’s bare butt we were looking at. Greg’s mouth sucking on Mindy’s boob.”

“Maybe a little,” Pauline said. She then smiled. “He does have a pretty nice ass though, doesn’t he?”

Laura cast a guilty little glance at her husband, who was waiting to hear her thoughts on this matter, a small smile on his face. “It’s not bad,” she finally squeaked. “If you’re into nice butts, that is.”

“Was it nicer than mine?” Jake asked.

“Nobody has a nicer butt than you,” she said diplomatically.

The group went to the bar and got a fresh round of drinks. They drank them standing in a corner of the room, watching the celebrities and other guests mix and mingle. Laura then declared she needed to use the facilities. Pauline and Sharon elected to accompany her there and the three ladies headed off.

“Well,” said Nerdly to Jake and Obie. “I’m going on a quest. Would either of you care to join me?”

“What kind of quest?” Jake asked.

“According to the credits, Ryan Mantelshelf was the musical director for the film. I wish to speak to him about some of the mixing levels in the score and how they can be improved.”

“Uh ... well ... I would, Bill,” Jake said, “but I think maybe I’ll make my way over to Greg and talk to him for a bit.”

“Yeah,” said Obie. “And I need to wait for Pauline to come back. She’d be pissed if I started talking music levels and didn’t pay enough attention to her.”

“Very well,” Nerdly said, a little disappointed. “I don’t suppose either of you know what Ryan Mantelshelf looks like?”

They did not. Nerdly simply nodded and then headed off on his mission.

“Well,” said Obie. “I hope this Ryan Mantelshelf creature has a good sense of humor.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jake said. “Or we might be breaking up a fight in a few minutes.”

“And, on that note, I guess I’ll go score another hit of this bourbon,” Obie said. “Care to join me?”

“I’m still good,” Jake said, hefting his half-full glass. “I’m going to go talk to Greg, like I said.”

“Suit yourself,” Obie said amicably. He wandered toward the bar.

Jake headed toward Greg, who was talking to a group of men and women. Before he got there, however, Celia found him. She was carrying a glass of white wine in her hand and it seemed apparent that it was not her first one.

“What did you think of the flick?” Jake asked her.

“I think it’s the best thing he’s ever done,” she said simply. “The movie itself was incredible and Greg’s acting was on point throughout. He’ll definitely be nominated for Best Actor for his part; and he might even win it.”

“A lot different of a conversation than when we went to The Northern Jungle premier, right?”

“Night and day,” she said. “They gave a standing ovation at the end! That was incredible.”

“I’m happy for him,” Jake said. “I was just heading over to tell him how much I liked it.”

“He’ll be pleased if you do that,” she said. “He respects your opinion a lot, Jake. He honestly considers you to be his best friend.”

“I do kind of grow on people after a while, don’t I?” Jake asked with a chuckle. “Kind of like a yeast infection.”

“Now that’s just gross,” she admonished.

“Sorry,” he said with a laugh. He then turned serious again. “How has it been ... you know ... talking to Mindy tonight? Awkward?”

“Weird actually,” she said.

“In what way?”

“She’s been so ... so nice to me,” Celia said. “Not that I was expecting her to be a bitch to me or anything, but I thought she’d be aloof, that she’d come across like she’s better than me or something. Instead, she’s been chatting with me like we’re old friends. She even said she wants to get together with Laura and I for a girl’s night sometime.”

Jake’s eyes widened in alarm. “I really think that would be a bad idea,” he said. “On several different levels.”

“I know that,” Celia scoffed. “There is no way in hell I would actually do something like that; and I’m pretty sure that she was just being polite when she offered ... but that’s the thing. She’s being polite and nice. I don’t know what to think. Is it real?”

“Probably not,” Jake said.

“What could her game possibly be?”

“Only Mindy knows that,” Jake said. “Trust me though, there’s a game afoot.”

“What if she really has turned over a new leaf, Jake?” Celia asked. “Isn’t that possible?”

“Anything is possible,” Jake said. “That doesn’t mean it’s likely though.”

“I suppose,” she said thoughtfully. “They’re flying to Chicago tomorrow afternoon you know.”

“Greg and Mindy?”

“And the directors and the producer and a good portion of the supporting actors. They’ll be attending the premier there and then flying to New York for the premier there. After that, they’ll be visiting Baltimore and then New Orleans for promotional appearances.”

“And you won’t be going with them,” Jake said. It was not a question.

“I have a whole gaggle of violinists coming in for auditions tomorrow,” Celia said. “And after that, we need to start rehearsals if we want to be on the road the first of the year.”

“Does this worry you?” Jake asked. “Those two flying off together while you stay home?”

“Not at all,” she said. “If nothing happened between them while they were filming the movie—especially those sex scenes; Madres de Dios, that was graphic, wasn’t it?—then there is no reason to think anything is going to happen now, right?”

“That makes logical sense,” Jake had to agree.

“Right,” Celia said with a smile. “And we live in a logical world, right?”

“Of course,” Jake said with a chuckle.

He parted from Celia and made his way over to Greg, who was just finishing up a conversation with an attractive young brunette in a revealing red dress. She was gushing over his performance and the overall theme of the project and Greg was eating it up. Finally, she ran out of praise and Greg introduced her to Jake. She was Geri Matthews, the daughter of the film’s producer. Geri wasted no time letting Jake know that she was a fan of his and would simply love getting together and hearing him play a private performance for her ‘unplugged’ sometime.

“That sounds like a lot of fun, hon,” Jake told her, “but I’m pretty sure my wife would disapprove of such a performance.”

“No reason to tell her about it,” Geri said with a smile.

Jake chuckled. “A tempting offer, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to take a rain check on that.”

“I understand,” she said. “It would have been fun though.” And with that, she walked away, heading for the nearest bar.

“Wow,” Greg said, shaking his head in wonder. “She pretty much just offered to fuck you, right here in front of me, with your wife right across the room.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I get that a lot.”

“Really?”

“Chicks really dig musicians,” he said. “Especially singers. It’s a curse.”

“Some curse,” Greg said, still shaking his head.

“Hey,” Jake said, “I just wanted to tell you, I loved the flick. It’s one of the best movies I’ve ever seen, right up there with the Godfather, Platoon, and Airplane.”

“Thank you,” Greg beamed. “And with praise like that I won’t even chastise you for saying ‘flick’ and ‘movie’. I honestly feel that this is the best film I’ve ever made.”

“Agreed,” Jake said. “Way better than The Northern Jungle.”

“That goes without saying,” Greg said smugly. “And for half the budget too. I think I’ve finally made my way back onto the A list with this project. And I would be astounded if the film were not nominated for multiple Academy Awards come February.”

“Me too,” Jake agreed. “You should at least carry off Best Actor. Your performance was impressive, very realistic. You actually had me believing that you were Frank Haverty, burned out cop, and not Greg Oldfellow, pompous blue-blood. You even wore jeans!”

“It’s all a matter of getting properly into character,” Greg said. “Method acting. The more you research and know your character’s wants and needs, their motivations, the more you’re able to project yourself for the performance.”

“You projected quite well,” Jake told him. “Mindy too, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Yes,” Greg said whimsically, “Mindy was a delight to work with. As I tried to tell Celia, there was a chemistry between us—not a sexual chemistry, not exactly anyway, but a certain kind of bond that method actors will sometimes share. We fed off of each other during the filming, both falling into our roles like they were made for us. It really was a special thing to be a part of and I think it shines through on the final cut we just saw.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “That was quite the sex scene between you two. Gave me a semi just watching it.”

“Uh ... yes,” Greg said, becoming visibly uncomfortable now. “Like I told you before, that was the awkward part, the part where Mindy started to get a little too familiar with me.”

“Yeah, but you had to have enjoyed that, right?” Jake asked. “Having those titties in your hand? You even slurped a nipple into your mouth.”

“Uh ... yeah,” Greg said. “As I said, just part of the performance. I would be lying if I said there was no physical pleasure involved—I mean, I was all but naked against an all but naked Mindy Snow—but it was mostly awkward and uncomfortable. I was glad when those scenes were behind us.”

“Of course you were,” Jake said. “C tells me you and Mindy are flying off tomorrow.”

“And the rest of the crew,” Greg added. “Chicago then New York for premiers, then promos in Baltimore and New Orleans.”

“I wish you luck with that,” Jake said.

“Luck? What do you mean?”

“That your plane doesn’t crash,” Jake said. “What did you think I was talking about?”

Jake thought he might be able to get through the evening without talking to Mindy any further. He was wrong. She approached him just as things started winding down, as some of the guests started making their way to the exit and the limo queue. He was at the bar, getting a refill on his rum and coke. She sidled up next to him just as the bartender started construction in a highball glass.

“I feel like somebody’s been avoiding me tonight,” she told him.

He gave her a sideways smile. “Maybe,” he said. “I think I’ve found over the years that my life stays less complicated the less I see of you.”

She nodded. “I suppose I deserve that,” she said softly. “I did treat you horribly, Jake. I used you and then threw you away when I got what I wanted. I want to apologize for that.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Jake said. “It was what it was. I’ve learned from the experiences. That’s what life is about, right? Learning from our mistakes?”

“I suppose it is,” she allowed.

“Have you learned from your mistakes?” he asked her. “Or do you even consider those things you did back then to be mistakes?”

“They were mistakes,” she said. “I had no right to use you that way; first to change my image and then to ... well ... you know what I did.”

“You used me to humiliate your husband for your own financial gain,” Jake said. “You had your photographer fuck-buddy take pictures of you and I in the bedroom together so you could blackmail him into disregarding the prenuptial agreement. And what did that little scheme net you, Mindy? Five or ten million more than you would have got if you’d just divorced him? You, who already had a twenty or thirty million net worth back then? Did you really need that money that badly?”

“No,” she said softly. “That was a horrible thing that I did, Jake. I ... I wasn’t all right in the head back then.”

“But you are now?”

She nodded. “Yes, I am,” she said. “I’m here at the premier of a movie that I costar in, a movie that might very well get me that Academy Award after all these years; a movie that I poured my heart into and did some of my best acting ever. Yes. I’m all right in the head now.”

“Then you’re not playing any games here?” Jake asked.

“With you?” she asked. “What kind of games would I play? You hardly want to be in the same room with me. You obviously have a lot of unresolved anger about the way I treated you. You wrote a goddamn song about how much of a bitch I was—didn’t think I’d pick up on that, did you?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping that you would pick up on it,” he said.

She thought this over for a moment and then nodded. “I see,” she said. “Anyway, what kind of game could I be running on you now? You’re married now, and it seems to me that you’re happy. I talked to Laura a little while ago. She seems happy. She really is a dear, Jake.”

“Yes, she is,” Jake agreed. “But I wasn’t talking about games with me. I was talking about games with Greg Oldfellow.”

“With Greg?” she asked, showing a pretty good representation of surprise. It was convincing to Jake, anyway. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Greg is a close friend of mine,” Jake said. “And Celia, his wife, is my business partner and a very close friend as well. I’d really hate to see anything coming between them.”

A smirk appeared on her face. “You mean like a makeup girl in Alaska?” she asked slyly.

It was a blow that struck home. “You know about that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I do. Got it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Greg told you about it?” Jake asked, astounded.

“No, the makeup girl in question,” Mindy said. “She worked with me on my last project before Us and Then. We got to be ... oh ... close, I guess you would say. She told me the whole story. She’s such a dear. She actually blames herself for what happened. Can you believe that?”

“So ... you knew about this when you asked to be the costar with Greg?” he asked.

“I did,” she said. “Not that that has anything to do with anything. I wanted to work with Greg because he’s a great actor and I’ve always admired him. I thought we would do good work together and I was right. His little dalliance with the makeup girl is just an interesting side note that I brought up because you seemed to be holding him up as some kind of saint or something. Trust me on this, Jake. There are no saints in Hollywood.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jake agreed.

“Anyway, there is no game here. Greg and I became friends during the project, we shared a wonderful chemistry with each other, and now we’re going to promote our film together. After that, I don’t believe we’ll be seeing much of each other. I have a tendency to make men’s wives a little nervous. Have you noticed that?”

“Maybe once or twice,” Jake said.

“You can choose to believe me or not,” Mindy said. “It’s up to you. It doesn’t really matter to me, not when you come down to it. But I sincerely wanted to tell you that I am sorry for the way I treated you in the past. You can take it for what you will.”

Jake looked at her face as she spoke, seeing nothing but sincerity there. Could it possibly be true? “Okay,” he said at last. “Apology accepted.”

“Thanks, Jake,” she said, touching his shoulder affectionately and then taking her hand away. “That means a lot to me.”

She left him at the bar and resumed mingling. A few minutes later, Obie came over and asked if this was maybe a good time to start heading for the exit.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “A perfect time. You start gathering everyone, I’ll work on getting our limo here.”

Jake and Laura slept in the Granada Hills house that night. The next morning, Laura drove to the KVA studios to meet with Celia and help with the auditions of the violin players. Jake was already gone when she left the house. He had gotten up at seven o’clock and was picked up by a limousine at 7:30. The limo took him to LAX, where he caught a first-class flight to Minneapolis. He was going to play at Bigg G’s concert tonight and then travel with the group for the next ten dates.

Later that same day, at the same airport, Mindy, Greg, and several dozen members of the cast and crew climbed aboard a chartered A-320 for their own flight to Chicago.