Dena’s cell phone rang and she took a peek at the number. “Um, I’m sorry,” she said. “I need to take this.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Manny said, and sat back down.
She walked out into the hallway. “BJ, how are you?” she asked. “Is anything wrong?”
“Nah, just thought I’d give you a ring…needed to chat.”
She smiled at his British accent. She always loved to hear his voice. She tried to work up some enthusiasm for a job she no longer had, and wondered if Steve had said anything to anyone yet. After having checked BJ into anger management, due to his latest incident in a Hollywood nightclub, he considered her his savior. “You were on my list to call, later today—”
“Sorry, need for me to hang up, love?”
“No, it’s not a problem. I’m in a—” She stopped in the doorway, smiled in at Irma and Manny. “In a friend’s kitchen.”
“Are you on holiday?”
“I’ve got an out of town client. Not sure how long I’ll be gone, but—”
“No problem, love. You do what you have to do.”
Dena watched Irma come over to the table and slide a plate, with a turkey sandwich and a handful of chips on the side, toward the place she’d been seated. She smiled her thanks, and her stomach did a low growl of appreciation. She itched to nibble one of those chips but would never do that. Not while she spoke with a client, even BJ, who forgave everything.
“Wendy will handle your appointment with the therapist, if you don’t mind.”
“Cool,” BJ said. “I like her. Nice lady.”
“Oh, that’s good.”
“I hate the bloody thought of therapy, but I know you’re right. That brawl was…”
“Don’t beat yourself up, BJ. Things happen for a reason.”
“Rather. I need to get my act together.”
Dena raised her eyebrows. “Promise me, no nightclubs this weekend. Think of the band and your reputation. You guys are on the rise. You’re the Rolling Stones of this decade—”
“I’m Mick Jagger?”
“No, you’re not Mick Jagger.” She laughed. “He doesn’t play drums, and you can’t sing.” She half-listened to BJ ramble on about music and bands. Then just as quickly he stopped.
“Got to go love,” he said. “Call me sometime for a chat.”
The line went dead. Dena shook her head and pocketed the cell phone. She sat and reached hungrily for the sandwich. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Manny said, and leaned forward eagerly. “Your client is BJ? He’s fantastic, English bands are fantastic.” He ruffled his buzzed hair again then stared back at her, grinning.
Dena nodded and chewed. The sandwich tasted heavenly and totally hit the spot.
“Best drummer ever,” Manny said. “Man, oh man, your client is BJ?”
She nodded again, swallowed, took a sip of soda, amused with Manny’s elevation of her status. She could see it mirrored in his eyes.
“What is he like?”
Dena smiled. She wanted to say an irresponsible trouble-maker, heavy-drinker, egotistical big-time-spender, all around ladies’ man. But she didn’t. BJ did have a softer side. He changed his women as often as his underwear, but he loved them all. And he was always protective of them. Once you were one of BJ’s women, you were a friend for life. That’s how he’d gotten into trouble, defending the reputation of his latest woman.
“He’s a good guy and a huge talent,” she said, and took another bite of her sandwich.
Manny still watched her with a look of awe on his young face. She took a long drink of soda, and then put the glass down. “Um, will you do me a favor? Anything you overheard from that call, will you keep it to yourself?”
“Sure.” He nodded a couple of times. “You’ve got my word on that.”
“Now, what were we talking about before?”
“Me, and work versus college,” Manny said, and sat up straighter.
“You tell to him, Dena,” Irma said. She walked over and stood at the other side of the table. “You smart lady. Tell him how is for the rest of the life.”
Dena gulped. Somehow her status, thanks to BJ, had been elevated even in Irma’s mind. But that also came with problems, because if she disagreed with Irma she’d lose the possibility of getting information. The same would go for Manny. She needed them both. Manny pursed his lips and watched her. Irma scrunched her hands into her apron, and stood her ground.
“Sometimes kids need a break from college. It isn’t right for everyone, but they also need direction.” Dena took a bite of the sandwich and chewed slowly. “Do you live at