"Does The Pope shit in the woods?" Jake asked.
For the next hour and a half, the two musicians did what they did best. They sang everything from Frank Sinatra to Fleetwood Mac to Rush to Slayer to Firefall. They even threw in a little Eurythmics and Cutting Crew — two of the few eighties bands they didn't consider to be complete atrocities.
Jake and Celia were having such a good time that they didn't notice their violation of the primary rule of show business. They didn't stop while their audience still wanted more. By sixty minutes into the performance, both Helen and Greg had had their fill of music and were ready to head up to bed. It was only after Jake and Celia covered Supertramp's Goodbye Stranger — another duet of sorts — that Greg decided it was time to speak up.
"Great music, guys," he said, standing up and stretching. "But we do have a nine o'clock tee time in the morning. We really should be getting to bed."
Jake looked up at the clock, surprised to see it was well after eleven o'clock. "Oh... yeah, I guess we'd better," he said. "My fingers are starting to get a little sore anyway."
"Mine too," Celia said. "My throat too."
They said their goodnights to each other. Celia gave Jake a big hug and a kiss on the cheek and then did the same to Helen. Greg stuck with shaking hands with Jake although he did not squirm away when Helen gave him a hug.
They went to their respective bedrooms, leaving the guitars (at Greg's insistence) for the "staff" to pick up in the morning. Jake and Helen enjoyed a slow, lustful session of sexual congress atop the silk sheets of the guest suite bed and then climbed under them to settle in for sleep.
"You and Celia were unbelievable, Jake," Helen whispered to him. "I've never seen anything like that before."
"It was fun," Jake said. "It's been awhile since I've just sang for the sheer enjoyment of it."
"You two seem to have some sort of... well... connection. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah," he said. "I guess I do. She's a great musician. It's a joy to play with her."
"Have you ever thought about doing an album with her?" Helen asked.
"No... not really," Jake said. "I'm not sure how the public would take a collaboration between the pop queen and the raunch king. Besides, we're both under contract for different record companies. There's no way in hell that either one of them would allow it."
"I suppose," Helen said. She yawned and curled up into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Soon, they were both asleep. They slept soundly until seven the next morning, when a discreet knock on their door by Jim brought them awake. It was time to start a new day.
The temperature was sixty-eight degrees the next morning, with a light breeze out of the south. It was perfect for golf. In addition, the Mojave Springs Country Club — of which Greg was a prominent member — was one of the nicest, best maintained courses that Jake had ever had the privilege of playing.
"It better be," Greg said when Jake mentioned this to him on the second hole. "I'm paying nineteen thousand a year to be a premier member here. That's not to mention the six hundred a month I have to spend at the clubhouse or the bar."
"Quit bitching about it," Celia said. She was looking incredibly cute in her white golf shorts and tan polo shirt. "You pay almost nineteen grand a year for haircuts, don't you?"
Greg seemed amused by her mention of this. "You exaggerate," he replied. "I spend ten thousand a year, tops, for personal grooming."
Greg and Jake both agreed to a two thousand dollar Nassau with an automatic press clause. Since Greg was shooting scratch golf these days and Jake was still holding onto his twelve handicap, Greg agreed to give him ten strokes for the match. It was just enough for Jake to rise to the occasion. He beat Greg by two holes on the front, one hole on the back, and three for the entire eighteen, netting a six thousand dollar payoff when they settled up in the clubhouse.
Greg wrote out a check without saying much. He was not in the best of moods. He had refused to bet with Helen in any way since she was a woman, since she was playing from the men's tees, and since he didn't consider it sporting to take advantage of the fair sex. Helen had beaten him scratch, shooting a sixty-nine to Greg's seventy-three.
They returned to Greg's house after the match, their plans to enjoy another five course meal and then drive to a private club for drinks and dancing. As soon as they walked in the door, however, Jim was standing there, looking serious and forlorn.
"What's the matter, Jim?" Greg asked.
"Begging your pardon, sir," Jim said, "but a Ms. Kingsley, Mr. Kingsley's sister, has called and requested that Mr. Kingsley contact her immediately. Apparently there is something of some importance she needs to discuss with him."
"Oh shit," Jake said. "What now?" He looked at Greg. "Is it okay if I make a long distance call on your phone?"
"Of course," Greg said. "You can use this one here or you can use the extension in my office if you require privacy."
"I'll just use this one," he said. "Might as well get it over with."
He walked over and picked up the phone. It was one of the new, cordless models. He dialed Pauline's personal line from memory. It rang twice before she picked it up.
"Jake?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "What's up?"
"We got trouble," she said.
"That phrase again," Jake said, shaking his head.
"What's that?" Pauline asked.
"Never mind," he said. "Go ahead and give it to me. What kind of shit's going down now?"
"It's Matt," she said. "He's in jail. Kim is too."
"Jail?" Jake asked. "What the hell for?"
"It's pretty serious, Jake. He doesn't seem to grasp it just yet, but they're in a lot of trouble this time."
Chapter 10a
"What happened?" Helen asked when Jake finally hung up the phone. She, Greg, and Celia had all heard enough of his end of the conversation to gleam that Matt was in jail and in a lot of trouble.
"Pauline doesn't know very much right now," Jake said. "There was apparently some sort of car chase that led to a melee at Matt's house in San Juan Capistrano. He's in the Orange County jail, charged with assault on a peace officer, resisting arrest, possession of cocaine, DUI, and a variety of vehicular related charges like reckless driving and evading a peace officer."
"Oh my God," Helen said, shaking her head.
"Kim was arrested too," Jake said. "She's charged with assaulting a peace officer and resisting arrest. She was able to post bail so she should be out in an hour or so. They're not giving Matt bail until he goes before a judge on Monday morning. He'll have to spend the weekend locked up."
"That's awful," Celia said. "Not very surprising, but awful."
"I trust he has a lawyer working on this," Greg said.
"I'm sure that National will set him up with one of the best defense attorneys available," Jake said. "They won't want this to affect the tour."
"Imagine," Greg said with horror. "Having to spend two days in a jail... with common criminals! How demeaning."
"Are you going to have to go back to LA tonight?" Celia asked.
"We can't," Jake said. "We were both drinking on the golf course so neither one of us can fly until tomorrow morning. Besides, there's not a lot we're going to be able to do tonight anyway."
"We'll have to leave in the morning, though?" Helen asked.
"Yeah," Jake said. "At first light." He turned to Celia and Greg. "Sorry, we won't be able to play golf tomorrow."
"Understandable," Celia said.
"Though it is a pity," Greg added. "I was planning to win back my six grand."
Dinner that night was excellent, but somewhat subdued. Afterward, they had a few after-dinner drinks out on the deck. Greg produced Cuban cigars for Jake and himself. When they lit up, Celia suggested that she and Helen go back inside and drink a little more wine while the boys did their male bonding thing.