"This is Eduardo, my brother," she said. "He's our lead guitarist."
Eduardo, like his sister, was quite tall, standing quite close to six and a half feet. "Nice to meet you," Jake said, shaking with him.
"Nice to meet you as well," he said and then turned to Matt. He held out his hand to him. "You need no introduction, Mr. Tisdale. I am a great admirer of your technique."
Matt didn't shake with him. "Then maybe you'd like to hear one of the secrets of the electric guitar," he said. "Check this out, this is way cool." He leaned closer, as if passing on confidential information. "There are more than two chords you can play on a guitar. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. You should look into this and someday you might qualify as a full-blown hacker."
Eduardo's face darkened but he said nothing. He turned the other cheek and stepped back a bit.
Celia frowned and shot Matt another glare. She turned to a shorter man standing next to her. "This is Miguel," she said, speaking to Jake. "He's the bass player. We went to high school together and formed our first band."
"You're the bass player?" Matt spoke up, stepping over. "I'll shake with you, my friend. You are all right."
"Uh... thank you," Miguel said, surprised. They shook.
"You're welcome," said Matt. "Hey, the word on the street is you're sliding your chorizo into Miss Pop Queen here. That true?"
Miguel's face turned beet red. His eyes actually bulged out of their sockets for a moment. "You are a disgusting pile of shit," he told Matt, his words heavily accented.
"Yep," Matt agreed. "So anyway, how is she in the sack? Does she swallow like a good little senorita?"
This pushed Miguel over the edge. "To voy a romper el orto!" he yelled angrily. His fist came up, heading for Matt's head. Matt blocked the punch easily but before he could launch a counter-strike another fist, this one belonging to Eduardo, came flying in from his blind side. It struck Matt on his left temple, snapping his head to the side and sending him reeling into Diana Ross and her entourage, who were in the queue behind them.
"Motherfucker!" Matt yelled, shaking himself free from Diana. "You're dead!"
"Matt!" Jake, Crow, and Janice all yelled at the same time.
Matt didn't hear them. He waded in and threw a punch directly into Eduardo's stomach, doubling him over. Before he could land another, Jake was grabbed him from behind, pulling him backwards. Celia and Bobby grabbed Eduardo, keeping him from attacking Matt again. But nobody grabbed Miguel. He stepped forward and threw another punch at Matt's face. Matt ducked down and it hit Jake instead, crashing in just above his right cheek with enough force to momentarily daze him. Stars erupted before his eyes and he fell backwards, his grip on Matt releasing. He hit the floor with a thud.
"All right, chili-picker!" Matt yelled. "That's your ass!" He went after Miguel and landed two punches on the side of his face before three security guards grabbed hold of him and pulled him off. Another two grabbed Miguel and dragged him in a separate direction.
"Chinga tu madre, cabron!" Miguel yelled at Matt. "Chinga tu madre!"
"What the fuck does that mean?" Matt yelled back. "You're in fucking America, asshole! Speak fucking English!"
"It means 'fuck your mother'," Celia shouted at him. "You don't want to know what 'cabron' means, cabron!"
"I'll fuckin' kill his ass!" Matt yelled. "Let me go, you fucks!"
They didn't let him go, he was dragged off in one direction and Miguel was dragged off in another. Soon they were out of sight. Several more security guards had arrived by this point and adroitly positioned themselves between Jake — who was just pulling himself to his feet — and Eduardo, who had been released by Celia and Bobby.
"It's cool," Jake said, holding up his hands appeasingly. "I ain't going after anyone."
Eduardo glared at him for a few moments and then finally nodded that he was cool as well. He turned and headed for the door, where a corridor had been cleared to allow them outside and out of sight. Bobby and the rest of the band and their entourage followed after him — all except Celia. She walked over to Jake.
"Are you okay?" she asked him.
"I think so," he said, rubbing his cheek and wincing a little. "It's not the first time Matt's mouth got me punched in the face and it probably won't be the last."
"He's an asshole," she said. "You know that, don't you?"
Jake shrugged. "He does have his moments. Your boyfriend there packs a pretty good punch. Not as good as the NYPD, but respectable."
"He's not my boyfriend," she said forcefully. "He's always had a crush on me but it never went anywhere. Bobby is my boyfriend."
"I see," Jake said. "Maybe you should reconsider your choice. I notice Bobby was the only one who didn't defend your honor."
"He's a lover, not a fighter," she said.
Jake chuckled. "Of course," he said. "Well, it's been nice seeing you again, Celia. Well... not really, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah," she said. "I know what you mean."
"Celia!" barked Bobby. "Get away from that... that man! Come on. They brought our limo out front so we can get out of this madhouse."
"I'm coming!" she yelled back at him. She turned back to Jake. "I'll see you here next year?"
"You bet," he told her. "We'll get rejected together again. It'll be fun."
She smiled and turned away.
"Hey," Jake called after her. She turned. "What does 'cabron' mean anyway?"
"It has many different meanings," she said, "none of them polite. I believe that Miguel was using the one that tells your friend he is an incestuous cuckold who cannot obtain an erection."
"Wow," Jake said. "All that in one word?"
"It's a very versatile insult," she said. "Goodbye, Jake."
"Goodbye, Celia," he said.
She gave him one last smile and then turned away. A moment later she was gone.
Pauline's flight landed at LAX at 7:05 the next morning. Jake — dressed in his dark shades, his hair tucked under a baseball cap — was there to pick her up. He noticed right away that she was toting two large suitcases instead of the normal carry-on.
"What's with the baggage?" he asked her.
"I'll tell you in the car," she said. "Here come some of your fans."
Like usual, the hat and sunglasses routine only kept him from being recognized for a short period of time. Within minutes adoring fans and hostile religious types swarmed him. He signed a few autographs, deflected a few insults, and finally extricated them and led them out to the parking area. Pauline's luggage barely fit into Corvette but somehow they managed it.
"Sorry you didn't win a Grammy," Pauline told him as they pulled out onto the access road. "What happened to your eye?"
He removed his sunglasses and showed her the black and blue shiner Miguel's punch had produced. "It's a good one, isn't it? Not as impressive as the one in Texarkana, but up there."
"What happened?" she asked.
"Oh... you know, the usual," he said. "We got in a fight with La Diferencia after the Grammy Awards."
"You got in a fight with a pop band?" she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Matt did actually. I just got caught in the crossfire. But it's cool now."
"It's cool?" she asked incredulously. "Jake, what the hell happened?"
"It'll be in all the gossip columns this morning if you want to read about it. Let's talk about you for a minute. What's with the luggage? Are you staying awhile?"
"Looks like it," she said. "I was called to a meeting with three of the partners yesterday. They gave me an ultimatum. Either I stop my outside work and go back to devoting all my energy to the firm or I'm fired."
Jake sighed. "And you chose the second option?"
She nodded. "The time came to burn that bridge behind me. Do you think I can stay with you until we work this thing out?"
"Pauline, why don't we stop this?" he said. "You go back to your job, right now, today, and we'll find an entertainment lawyer to represent us in the negotiations."