With Scott out of her life, Lana went right back to work on hitting the books and studying for the Bar. She reasoned that it would be a good idea to turn her attention to making her own money. In focusing on this, she let go of demons and blogging. Amy languished, unfed. Amy was not forgotten, far from it. She was being edited and proofed at Harper\u2019s Monthly. Other editors at Harper-Collins were looking over captured blog pages that had floated up through the ranks. In meetings, the idea of turning that blog into a book was being discussed. It was pretty much agreed to; the question was how to approach Lana with an offer. She was technically unknown, but she came with a ready-made and sizeable following eager to buy. She was a good-looking woman and would be great, or at least look great on TV. The question was should she be approached as an unknown? Offer her the lure of publication only? Or should she be approached with an offer? If an offer of advance was to be made, how much should it be? How many copies of an \u201cAmy Tells All\u201d book did they think they could sell? One wag in a meeting said, \u201cMy daughter was obsessed with that blog while it lasted. I\u2019d say, \u2018sky\u2019s the limit.\u2019\u201d \u201cSo, Frank, does that mean you want to advance her $50,000?\u201d A shrug was the response.<\/p>\n
With the winter break over, Julian and Dana went back to work teaching. Julian, fresh from the awakening any older man might feel when a lovely young woman falls in love with him, was really packing a punch in the classroom. He had his students take up Nabakov\u2019s \u201cPale Fire.\u201d He had them read the poem out loud. Nobody could tell him that this wasn\u2019t literature. Dana was always good, but she was also in top form. Having romped her students through Kinsey and Berne, she now took up the topic of six current trends in psychiatry. These were 1.) \u201cEarlier diagnosis and treatment;\u201d 2.) \u201cDevelopments in genetics;\u201d 3.) \u201cTargeting neuroplasticity;\u201d 4.) \u201cNeurostimulation, such as VNS, TBS, DNS;\u201d 5.) \u201cPsychopharmacogenics;\u201d and 6.) \u201cThe intertwining of psychological and physical disorders.\u201d
\nHer students looked at this list on the white board, and blanched. \u201cSay what?\u201d Their blank faces seemed to say. They had so little to go on that a discussion could not be mounted. Dana embarked on a lecture.<\/p>\n
Bruce booked a flight to Oakland, and, hemorrhaging money, he flew the Skyhawk back to Parkersburg. He had much time to think things over in that four-day adventure. By the time he bounced down at the good old Scott Airfield, he had come up with a game plan that involved trying to rehabilitate Scott. He realized that some of this depended on Lana. He had come to the realization that without some softening from her, Scott was in deep trouble psychologically. Bruce had known Lana a long time. Since they had been in high school together, Bruce Sibley and Lana Andsersen had been close friends. He had always thought of her as a sister and a friend. He\u2019d never put the moves on her, even though she was a well-acknowledged hottie. He contemplated the reason for this. She intimidated him intellectually. That was at the heart of his reticence, and it remained so. He could not imagine ever getting comfortable with her. Even as kids, she\u2019d had an acid tongue. She could do much damage in two sentences or less. She had never done verbal damage to him, but he had seen her tear into others. She was, he thought, a very good person. She had a huge heart. She was a true friend, and easy to love. His wife and her friends all thought the world of her. The trouble came when she was mishandled. She took quite a bit of abuse, but at a certain point, she would stop, turn around, stand her ground, advance and strike. He tried to remember the last time he\u2019d seen it happen. He thought that it had been between high school and college. That summer, she\u2019d been going out with a guy named Brian. Brian was some sort of art guy. He painted, he drew, and maybe he also played guitar. He wasn\u2019t in Bruce\u2019s gang, the aviation crazed gang that included Scott. So who knew what all really went down? Apparently, Brian was into \u2018free love.\u2019 Lana was in love with this guy, and she sat at his feet at coffee houses and danced him up one side and down the other at the bars. He was older. She always liked older men. He probably smuggled drinks for her. She must have heard about the \u2018free love\u2019 thing, but when she discovered it for herself, caught him at it, she balked. Bruce remembered the party at which she\u2019d lacerated him with a few nasty lines from her endless supply. There was not one curse word among them.
\n\t\u201cI see your freedom, and I free myself from it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cLana, wait.\u201d
\n\t\u201cLibertine, you are liberated.\u201d
\n\t\u201cYou don\u2019t understand\u2026\u201d
\nThat was, as they say, that. It wasn\u2019t just the words, though he always thought they were awesome. It was the about-face that followed it. She took up with Scott after that. Scott was no free lover. He regarded artists as some sort of pond scum. He was also a hottie. The sex those two had been legendary, or so Bruce kept hearing from those in the know, his wife included in that inner circle. This informed Bruce\u2019s thinking on how likely Scott would fare by way of getting any conciliation from Lana, much less a rematch. Bruce was, himself, trepidatious about talking further with her about Scott. His last discussion had left the distinct hint of sulfur in the air.<\/p>\n
When the Skyhawk hit the ground and then bounced back up, finally settling down a third of the way done the strip, Bruce had an audience. It was a watchful audience, but it remained seated in its swivel chair, doodling with a pencil. A pair of brown eyes watched the rest of the roll, watched the overuse of the brakes to come to a full stop just shy of the edge of the smoother grass, watched the gunning of the engine to pivot the plane on its tricycle, and get it bouncing back towards the hangar. Bruce was a rusty pilot, and the several landings he\u2019d made lately were perhaps better than this last one. He was tired and anxious. Among the ideas that had swarmed in his mind was the one that accused Scott of letting him get rusty as a pilot by forcing him to do the paperwork while Scott flew all the sales trips. That was now going to change, Bruce thought. He got her stowed, and headed for the office. As he opened the door, he was shocked to see Scott sitting in his chair.
\n\t\u201cScott!\u201d
\n\t\u201cBruce. Bouncer Bruce.\u201d
\nBruce shot Scott a hard look.
\n\t\u201cHow\u2019d ya get out of the slammer, dude?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI did as you said. I got me a lawyer, and he got me out on my own recognizance. The pre-trial judge cut me some slack as a \u2018first offender and as a low flight risk.\u2019\u201d
\n\t\u201cLow flight risk. They do know you fly, don\u2019t they?\u201d
\n\t\u201cNo. The lawyer, a fellow named Bart Moscowitz, told me not to volunteer any information. I was sort of thinking that meant that I\u2019d get to meet this judge. But it was all just paperwork. The hardest part was getting those dickwads at that prison to let me find an attorney, to let me use a phone. I had to enlist the aid of the nurse.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWell, great. You\u2019re free. What a story, man. What did you need to see a nurse about?\u201d
\n\t\u201cLong, pointless story. You forgot to tell me that Lana got a restraining order against me.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI was trying to soften the blow.\u201d
\n\t\u201cSo the moment I got out of the lockup, I got served.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt means I\u2019m getting a legal education the hard way. A suit comes up and puts an envelope in your hands and says, \u2018Are you Scott C. Andrews?\u2019 I stupidly nod and he hands me the envelope. It\u2019s not the Publisher\u2019s Clearing House. It\u2019s a restraining order and notice to appear. It\u2019s a love note from my wife.\u201d
\n\t\u201cScott, I\u2019m sorry\u2026\u201d
\n\t\u201cYeah, yeah. Me too. I\u2019m hanging out here until I can get a place. Perhaps you could go over to the house and see if she\u2019ll let me have my car. If she will, maybe you could drive it back out here.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI could try that. But then how do I get back to my car?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ll drive you, you idiot.\u201d
\nBruce looked at Scott hard again.
\n\t\u201cYou can quit calling me an idiot while trying to get me to help you.\u201d
\nHe left out the word \u2018asshole,\u2019 which had been in his first draft.
\n\t\u201cIf you don\u2019t help me, we can\u2019t do business.\u201d
\nScott was up a point. It was almost refreshing to note that fresh out of the pokey, the man had gotten his edge back. It almost made him feel a slight tremor of optimism.
\n\t\u201cAlright. Alright, but if you break the restraining order, that won\u2019t be good. How close can you get to her?\u201d
\n\t\u201cThe papers don\u2019t say. There\u2019s a lot of legal bullshit in there. I should run it by Bart, but that gets pricey. I\u2019d say if I park down the block aways that should satisfy the court. I own that home. There\u2019s something fucked up about her kicking me out. She\u2019s gonna have to let me get some access to stuff that\u2019s in there.
\n\t\u201cI\u2019ll talk to her. I was planning to anyway.\u201d
\n\t\u201cGlad to hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Bruce\u2019s sense of optimism was short-lived. When he arrived at the office the next morning, he found Scott passed out on the floor. Scott had never been much of a drinker. He liked his cans of Foster\u2019s, who knew why, but this was evidence of a different sort of investigation. He\u2019d gotten into Lana\u2019s stash of booze. She kept a supply of martini makings out there for those times when she and Scott had done some flying together. She liked to unwind afterwards. Scott had finished the martini makings, but it wasn\u2019t clear whether he actually mixed up a drink. Both the gin and the vermouth bottles were overturned and empty. There was some evidence of staggering around; the trashcan was overturned and a shelf of papers had been upended. Scott was on his back, his arm over his eyes. He was sort of writhing around when Bruce entered the scene.
\n\t\u201cFuck.\u201d
\n\t\u201cJeez, Scott. What happened here?\u201d
\n\t\u201cI figure if she can stand this shit, I can stand it.\u201d
\n\t\u201cIt looks to me like you can\u2019t.\u201d
\n\t\u201cI\u2019m OK. Just let me go puke.\u201d
\n\t\u201cOK, you do that.\u201d
\nHe did that, a few times. When he emerged from the bathroom, he flopped down in his swivel chair and slumped.
\n\t\u201cAs you asked me to do, Scott, I called Lana about the car.\u201d
\n\t\u201cWhat did she say?\u201d
\n\t\u201cShe said that you could have the car. She said she\u2019d put anything she could think of that you need in the car, and then you could follow the stay away clause to the letter. She said she\u2019d otherwise address you through the courts.\u201d
\n\t\u201cShe\u2019s being a bitch about it.\u201d
\nBruce shrugged. He was losing interest in playing the old games with Scott.
\n\t\u201cSo later, after you get your shit together, we can go get your car.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lana went though the house looking for stuff that shouted \u2018day to day life with Scott.\u2019 She put toiletries, aircraft brochures, bank books, checkbooks, clothes, shoes, belts, coats, and all sorts of miscellaneous Scott related stuff into boxes, and took the boxes out to his car. She spent about two hours on this purge in her afternoon. At the end of this labor, she sat down with Tory and Mea. It had been a few days now since she\u2019d last messaged Julian. It seemed possible now to get through whole days without thinking of him. Perhaps that was a sign that the end was in sight. Had she finally sailed out onto the sea of solitude? She thought it might be fun now to go out again with the \u2018evil sisters.\u2019 She picked up the phone and set up an evening of fun and frolic. She only had to wait for the car pickup operation. If she put the keys under the flowerpot, she could even automate that. That\u2019s what she did. She made a quick call to Bruce to clue him in. Then, all dressed up, out she went.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
With Scott out of her life, Lana went right back to work on hitting the books and studying for the Bar. She reasoned that it would be a good idea to turn her attention to making her own money. In focusing on this, she let go of demons and blogging. Amy languished, unfed. Amy was not forgotten, far from it. She was being edited and proofed at Harper\u2019s Monthly. Other editors at Harper-Collins were looking over captured blog pages that had floated up through the ranks. In meetings, the idea of turning that blog into a book was being discussed. It was pretty much agreed to; the question was how to approach Lana with an offer. She was technically unknown, but she came with a ready-made and sizeable following eager to buy. She was a good-looking woman and would be great, or at least look great on TV. The question was should she be approached as an unknown? Offer her the lure of publication only? Or should she be approached with an offer? If an offer of advance was to be made, how much should it be? How many copies of an \u201cAmy Tells All\u201d book did they think they…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-140","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapters","comments-off"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=140"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/140\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=140"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=140"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ken-beck.com\/bloggers\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=140"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}