“What am I doing here? This is my goddamn studio.” He glanced over at Jeffrey. “Who’re you?”
Jeffrey watched me with pleading eyes. My terror matched his own.
“This is Jeffrey Hocks,” I managed to say. “A friend from college. I was showing off your studio. Jeffrey, this is Joey Pitts. He owns the place.”
Never a man of nuance, Joey seemed ignorant of our anxiety and shook Jeffrey’s hand heartily. “Glad to meet you, Jeff,” he said. “Sorry about your taste in friends.” He laughed at his own joke.
When I asked Joey again what he was doing here, he whistled as if recalling a grisly traffic accident. “I had to escape my own house. The wife’s meeting there with her book club. She’s always reading about nuns in Bangladesh or kids in Iran who put on Shakespeare plays. Hell, I don’t know. Bunch of old broads get together once a month. Way I figure, it’s a chance for them to gossip and eat cake. I had to clear out for a few hours. Sometimes you gotta do that. You married, Jeff?”
“What?” He was already backing out the door.
“You’d understand if you were married. Will here understands, don’t you, Will?”
Before I could answer, there came the sound of water rushing through pipes. Joey’s eyes narrowed a little.
“Joey,” I said, “Jeffrey and I were talking about something kind of important.” Several weeks earlier I’d alluded to a wealthy friend who might want to invest in the record company. I hoped that Joey would get my hint and leave us alone.
“Is someone else here?” Joey asked. No suspicion in his voice, just curiosity.
Jeffrey and I glanced at each other. There was no ignoring the sound of the toilet being flushed. Then I heard a scream, blasting my heart to the top of my throat, but it was only the bathroom sink.
“Like I said, Joey, I’ve got friends in town for the weekend.”
“Nolan’s in the bathroom,” Jeffrey said. “I’ll go get him.”
But Joey put up his hand. “Give him time,” he said. “Nobody likes to be rushed in there. I’ll wait.”
“It’s okay,” Jeffrey said, “I’ve got to go anyway.”
“Maybe I’ll use the crapper, too,” Joey said, and my heart lurched. “Join the crowd? Nah, I’m kidding. I don’t crap more than once every couple of days. Waste of time. Bet you didn’t know that Albert Einstein only crapped once a week. Da Vinci, no more than twice a month.”
Go away! I thought. Go away go away go away!
“Nah, I’m kidding again. I’m just a constipated old man. Like you’ll all be some day. Ah, youth.” He grinned at us. Jeffrey slipped past Joey, out of the control room, and went down the hall toward the restroom.
Joey lowered his voice, asking if I thought Jeffrey was going to invest money in the record company. I told him I wasn’t sure yet, but I was hopeful.
“I hate to kick you out of your own studio,” I said, “but our chances are better if it’s just a couple of old friends talking. I’m sure you understand.”
Joey studied me a moment. “I’m impressed, Will. I’ve got to admit it. When you first mentioned starting a record company, I told the wife you were full of it. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe you can pull this off. So my point is, I’m sorry. I’m apologizing to you right now.”
“Don’t sweat it,” I said.
“Everyone makes mistakes, though. You gotta agree with that.”
I agreed. I’d have agreed to clipping his toenails if it would get him out of the studio.
“All right,” he said, “I’m going. I’m thinking of bowling a few frames. You heard me! I haven’t been bowling in years. But what the hell, am I right?”
He turned to leave, prompting a silent prayer of gratitude to every deity I could think of, and then he nearly ran into Nolan coming into the control room.
“Holy crap, son, what happened to you?”
“Car flipped over twice,” Nolan said, “back in Missouri. I’m lucky to be alive.”
I made quick introductions: “Joey, Nolan. Nolan, Joey.”
“Well, it obviously hasn’t knocked any sense into you,” Joey said to Nolan, “because you’re still friends with this guy.” He winked. “Okay, fuck it, I’m leaving. Enjoy the afternoon, boys.”
Before he could change his mind, I shot out of my chair and took him by the arm. I escorted my boss out of the control room. After a couple of steps Joey turned around again, and I had to stop myself from murdering him on the spot.
“Enjoy the weekend, Nolan,” he said. “Jersey’s a good place. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. Or do. What the fuck do I care?”
Finally he left. After the door had closed behind him, I exhaled for what seemed like the first time in several minutes and returned to the control room.
“Holy shit,” I said, trying to catch my breath. Nolan went to get Jeffrey and Marie. They led her back to isolation Room A. She went obediently inside and sat down on the floor. Nolan locked the door behind her. They both came into the control room.