“I hear you got a new weekend lover.”

Jim was meeting with the members of the band that made him famous; Blue Shift. Only Rex Yamaha wasn’t there, in Jim’s home, as he was vacationing in Japan. Lee Emanuel, the keyboard player, sat at the kitchen table with his feet up, drinking a beer. The manager, Paul Cynic, stood next to the table with his hands clasped behind his back. Lead vocalist and bass player Jason Edwards, the handsome man who was talking, was in the kitchen cooking something that resembled pasta.

“More than that,” Jim replied. “This lover is something else entirely.”

“Is Jim boy in love?” Jason asked. Lee laughed, and Paul simply raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure anymore,” Jim replied.

Paul raised both eyebrows. “You?” he asked.

“You sound surprised.”

“Oh really? Aren’t you the same guy who once told a woman he was suffocating in a relationship that had only been in progress for six hours?”

Lee laughed even harder. “No,” he said between laughs, “it was four hours.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Jason put in.

“Guys, guys, guys,” Jim said. “Enough already. I just like her a lot.”

“Must be the sex,” Lee said.

“Must be,” Jim agreed.

“How goes the work with A.J.?” Paul asked, changing the subject.

“Slow, but getting there. We’ve only got one side of the album to go.”

“Great! Ready for the publicity I’ve got set up for you?”

“All set!” Jim went to a cabinet and pulled out a stack of papers. “Here’s the list of song titles, complete with times of the pieces.”

Paul took the stack. “Jesus! There must be over 150 minutes of music here!”

“194 actually.”

“This is not going anywhere on the charts.”

“We’re aware of that.”

Paul frowned. “You’ve got that ‘I don’t give a fuck’ look on your face.”

“That’s right. Look, A.J. and I are having fun with this. We’ve never worked together before. It’s turning out to be an education for both of us.”

“But over three hours of music? That’s going to be a three CD set, let alone three tapes or records. Does the brass upstairs know about this?”

“Not yet. That’s your job.”

“God, get me drunk or make me sober. Now!”

Lee began laughing again.

“Hey funny boy,” Paul retorted, “how goes your solo album?”

“Done!” Lee said with a flourish. “Only eight songs too.”

“That’s good, I think.”

“It’s 77 minutes.” Lee laughed again.

Paul looked between Lee and Jim. “You two are going to drive me out of my mind.”

“That’s the idea,” Jim commented.

“Aargh!” Paul returned, fists clenched, yet grinning. Although Paul would never admit it, he loved this sort of thing.

Jim turned to Jason. “Are you doing a solo album too?” he asked.

It was now Jason’s turn to laugh. “Good lord no!” he exclaimed. “But I have been offered a film.”

“Interesting,” Lee said. “I didn’t know Pee Wee Herman was looking for a stand-in.” He laughed again.

Jason glared at him. “You on drugs?” he asked. Before Lee could respond Jason yelled, “Give me some!”

“Not in my house you don’t,” Jim said.

“I don’t share,” Lee countered.

“I can make you share,” Jason answered.

“Gentlemen,” Paul said, “you are all being silly. Stop it now.”

All three musicians threw food at Paul.

“Thank you gentlemen,” Paul responded, catching all the food deftly with his hands. “Now on to business.”

“I’d been wondering about that,” Jim said. “Why are we here?”

“Well, you live here. The rest is band business.”

“Get on with it then,” Lee said.

Paul strode to the head of the kitchen table. “I got a call from the record company,” he said. “They’re getting nervous. How long has it been since your last album, 14 months?”

“Hey,” Lee said, “everyone knows we have solo projects.”

“Don’t any of you read the trade papers?”

“Not since Billboard went to that ‘Sound Scan’ crap,” Jim replied.

“Rumors about Blue Shift’s alleged breakup have been going around for months now.”

Jason laughed derisively. “Get real,” he responded. “Other bands go longer. Hell, Boston’s fourth album still isn’t out.”

“I’m aware of that,” Paul said, “but that’s normal for them and they aren’t as flamboyant as you gentlemen. You put out five albums and one charity live album at an average of one every nine months.”

“Very Freudian,” Jim said.

“Grow up. At any rate, the powers that be want another album.”

“Bullshit. They want the money we generate for them.”

“That’s what I said. You gentlemen up for it?”

Lee sat up. “I think the key here is Jim,” he said. “Didn’t you and A.J. announce that you were going to tour?”

“We’re planning on it,” Jim replied, “although nothing major.”

“Look,” Paul said. “If you start writing now, you can get in and out of the studio before you tour. You and your brother tour, then Blue Shift tours.”

Jason sighed. “I suppose I’d better get the bass out from under the bed.”

Lee added, “Get the Synclavier out of hock.”

“So much for my vacation,” Jim said.

“It’s not our fault that you never take them,” Paul responded. “I wasn’t aware that you liked to relax anyway.”

“On occasion.”

There was a reverberation through the house as one of Blue Shift’s unreleased songs played for four seconds. It was a rock and roll riff, relying on Jim’s guitar playing.

Everyone in the house said, in unison, “Doorbell.”

Jim walked to the front door and opened it, to be greeted by a young man in a business suit. He was 5 feet 9 inches tall with curly blond hair, cut short. He reminded Jim of an accountant.

“Can I help you?” Jim asked.

The man stood with his hands clasped in front of him. In one hand he held a gossip paper, folded open to a page in the middle. “You are Jim Christopher?” he asked.

“To the best of my knowledge,” Jim said. “What do you want?”

“My name is Jeff Soszynski.” He held up the paper so Jim could see a photograph inside. “What are you doing with my wife?”

Jim was taken aback. “Excuse me?” he said.

“Don’t try to deny it. The picture’s right here.” He pointed to the paper and then dropped it.

“Karen is my girl, a divorcee, and not your wife,” Jim said.

“That’s a legal opinion only,” Jeff responded. “She made a commitment to me and I will do everything I can to see it kept.”

Jim was getting angry. “Mr. Soszynski,” he said, pronouncing the man’s name correctly, “as much as I can appreciate the situation you are in, I believe Dr. Price is adult enough to make her own decisions.”

“Doctor Price?” Jeff looked puzzled, then ignored it. “Where’s my wife?”

“Mr. Soszynski, if you keep up this attitude I will eject you from my property.”

“Just bring me my wife and I’ll leave.”

Jim was boiling now. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Jeff began to shout. “Tell me where she is!”

“Last chance, Mr. Soszynski. Get your ass off my property!”

Jeff leaned back and threw a right-cross at Jim’s jaw. The punch was stopped mere inches from Jim’s face by one hand. The hand belonged to Paul Cynic.

“Is there a problem gentlemen?” he asked.

Jeff pulled his hand back and stared at Paul in amazement. It had been a hard punch, and it was stopped cold.

“Jeff Soszynski,” Jim said, calming himself, “meet my manager, Paul Cynic. You may have heard of him. He is responsible for my career and thinks nothing of stepping on people with prejudice to see that I am not harmed.”

“Are you implying a threat?” Jeff asked.

“I never make threats,” Paul said. He smiled a wide, vicious smile.

Jeff waited a moment, then stepped back, pointing at Jim. “You’ll soon learn,” he said, “that I’m the wrong person to cross. He then turned and ran off.

Jim turned to Paul. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” Paul countered. “I saw your fists clench up and was worried you might throw a bullet punch.”

“It doesn’t work that way and you know it. Besides, formulae never entered my mind. He was just an asshole.”

“All right, all right. Let’s get back to work.”

“Join me for a drink after?”

“Maybe. I have a question for you. Does Karen know about you?”

“Yes.”

Paul sighed. “That brings the total who know to seven. You know, the biggest danger you have to yourself is your big mouth.”

“Seven?” Jim asked.

“Your parents, your two brothers, that social worker, your new girlfriend, and me.”

“Shit,” Jim said with a whistle. “You’d better keep a rein on me.”

Paul looked agitated, but was smiling. “I’m trying,” he said as he shut the door.