Alex got the news about Pauline. It was a grief-laden cap on a crap day. He didn’t object to taking little Maya on full time, not at all. He was honored that Jimmy Senior should think of him as appropriate for the job. He just didn’t want to have to do it at the expense of Pauline’s life.

They’d been friends. They hadn’t been best friends, but they’d been friends. They’d covered for each other, when they needed it. He hadn’t known about what was going on with her and Jimmy, but apparently no one had. This was the result, and he sincerely mourned her passing. He was going to have to start looking for a two-bedroom place, too, because the poor kid shouldn’t have to deal with him and his occasional paramours.

When Jimmy Senior told him about the arrangement with regards to Maya’s day care, Alex couldn’t repress a shiver. He didn’t raise any objections, though. Jimmy had paid for Inge’s hospital stay, so she owed him. And Jimmy was providing security for both Inge and Carsten, so Sol owed him too. Inge provided stellar care, better than Alex could even if he quit his job. She would be a good choice.

He just didn’t want to have to deal with Sol more than he had to. But he thanked his benefactor and moved on, because Alex’s sex life wasn’t anyone else’s problem.

He cried that night, after Maya went to bed of course. He cried for Pauline, because she wouldn’t get to see this amazing child grow up. And he cried for himself. He hadn’t gone over to Sol’s place intending to have sex, but as soon as Sol had gotten him alone, Alex had given in. He hadn’t even put up a token resistance. He’d just gone along with it, and he’d done it because he wanted to.

Alex was pathetic.

He’d gotten into bed with Sol like the past ten years hadn’t happened. What had he been thinking? He knew better. He knew sleeping with Sol wouldn’t take him anywhere good. He’d just been so desperate and so needy he’d crawled right back into bed with him and given him everything he wanted. He knew Sol didn’t love him. He knew Sol didn’t respect him. He knew Sol would never walk down the street holding his hand and wouldn’t ever introduce him as “my partner, Alex” at the country club or the holiday mixer or whatever the hell guys like him did.

Sol would never be proud of Alex. Alex had learned that lesson a long time ago, or at least he thought he had. If Alex knew this about Sol, why did he let Sol touch him? What would it take to burn the last remnants of desire for this man out of his system? He’d thought—hoped—they were gone already, but one touch and here he was begging for Sol to show up again.

Thankfully there wasn’t anyone listening. His pleas, just as they had when he’d been a child, got lost somewhere between his mouth and the pillow into which he sobbed them.

He pulled himself together the next morning. He might be a pathetic worm who couldn’t resist a man who thought of him as candy, but he was a pathetic worm who had a job to do. He needed to go out and do it. He bundled his charge up and headed into Manhattan, to drop Maya off for the first time.

Maya cried when he left her with Inge, but Inge told him this was normal. “She’s used to you, and she’s not used to this place. She’ll calm down in a little bit, once she gets to know me.” She looked into Maya’s eyes. “Won’t you, sweet girl?”

Maya threw her stuffed thing at Inge. Alex winced and fled. He wasn’t helping matters where he was.

He’d made arrangements with Inge to pick Maya up a little late tonight. Buddy had made an appointment for him with that Woodham guy to have a screen test. As far as Alex was concerned the whole thing was ridiculous, but if it made Buddy feel better, he’d give it a shot. No one was going to give a food show to two Bronx guys, but it could be fun to see a little bit behind the scenes. Someday he’d be able to tell Maya he’d done a screen test, maybe.

He got through his clients for the day, and then he took a cab to the studio. The studio was in midtown, way too close to Times Square for Alex’s liking but no one had consulted him. He headed inside with his aching feet and sore back, told the receptionist he was there to see Mr. Woodham, and stood there while she looked him up and down.

“I’ll bet you are,” she said with a little smile. “I’ll just bet you are.” She handed him a visitor pass and told him where to go, and that was it.

TV people were weird, man.

He followed her instructions and headed up to the studio, only to find Buddy already there. Of course Buddy was there. He’d seized onto this thing, pinned all of his hopes on it. He was practically vibrating. “Can you believe it?” He grabbed onto Alex’s arms, “We’re really here!”

Alex looked at the sound stage. It looked like it had been reused from one of the big-name food shows. He’d definitely seen it before. They’d set up a bar in one area and a few pots and pans in another. Other than that, they just had a bunch of camera guys and other crew people milling around.

Woodham approached. His plaid sports coat flapped in the breeze. Alex hadn’t ever thought much about him one way or another, except for the usual contempt with which he thought of Hellion Club members. Here on the set, though, everyone treated him with a lot of deference. “Alex, Buddy, glad to see you so bright eyed and bushy tailed. It’s a switch from the usual talent, I have to say.” He snorted, and a woman with a headset and utility belt appeared with a smoothie. “All right, let me tell you how this is going to go. We’re going to be reading through a script first, so you don’t have any surprises. Then you guys are going to get up there and run through the script on screen. I just want to see how you guys are on camera, how your chemistry is. A lot of talents are fine in person, but once you get them in front of a camera it’s a completely different thing.”

Buddy nodded, and then he frowned. “Wait. What exactly is in this script?”

Alex put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. He didn’t want Buddy to shoot himself in the foot. It might all be crap, but at least Buddy wouldn’t go away from it feeling like he’d been the one to sabotage himself. “I could be wrong—I’m not a TV insider or anything—but I suspect what we’re saying in the screen test isn’t so important as how we say it.”

Woodham gave him a relieved grin. “That’s right, Alex. If we wind up going to a full season, you two would have a lot more creative control over the content. Not pure creative control, of course, but we can negotiate about writing and producing credits.”

Alex blinked for a moment. He couldn’t think about things like writing and producing credits. They were absurd. He and Buddy weren’t going to get writing and producing credits. They were going to get reimbursed for their time, if they were lucky, and maybe cab fare home. “Cool.” He looked at Buddy. “See? We can do this.” He lowered his voice when he saw the borderline panic in Buddy’s dark eyes. “Come here for a second, okay?” He guided Buddy away for a second. “Hey, listen to me, all right? We’ve got this.”

Buddy’s forehead glistened with sweat. “I don’t know, man. It feels awfully crowded in here.”

“Dude. You faced down a known money launderer with a sawed-off. These guys out here? They’re all regular guys, like you and me. They get paid, they go home, they maybe hit the bar, and they go to bed. They’re no different. They’re not thinking about judging you. They’re thinking about doing their job, maybe walking the dog or something. They know cameras, and lighting, and sound. You and me? We know food and booze.”

Buddy rolled his shoulders. He was on solid ground with food and booze. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ve got this. For Pauline.”

“Right. For Pauline.” Alex couldn’t see what Pauline had to do with auditioning for a TV show they were never going to get, but if it let them keep their dignity in front of those cameras they were going to do just fine.

They sat down with Woodham, the director, and a few of the crew to read through the script. Alex and Buddy did most of the reading, but the crew did jump in a bit to explain what they would do so there weren’t any surprises. Then they went ahead and started to film.

They started out in the bar. Alex and Buddy introduced the show by explaining that opening day was right around the corner, and if the viewers at home were anything like them they were dying for some good old fashioned ballpark food and something to drink with it. The lights overhead were ferocious, hot as the sun, and Alex was sure he was going to sweat right through his chef jacket. The teleprompter was weird, too, and it malfunctioned on maybe every tenth word. Both Alex and Buddy had to rely on their prior reading and their innate knowledge of the subject to keep the show going.

Alex figured they were stiff, and they were stiff to start out. Once they realized the cameras probably weren’t going to eat them, though, they settled down and got into it a little bit. Alex pressed Buddy into service as a sous chef because the healthier grilled sausage he was cooking needed an extra pair of hands during removal. They headed over to the bar to mix up a couple of cocktails to have with their sandwiches, even though “everyone knows the only proper drink to have at the ballpark with your grilled sausage is a tasty cold beer.”

The time seemed to fly, and for a minute Alex was disappointed in himself. He hadn’t expected to get chased away so fast. Then Woodham asked them to hang out for a minute while he and the director guy talked things over.

Alex turned to Buddy. “Well,” he said, “that was fun.” The crew packed up around them, although they left the bar standing. Buddy reflexively started mixing drinks for folks that wanted them.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Buddy ducked his head and grinned, boyish despite his years. “I had a good time with it, anyway. I know it probably wasn’t your thing, but I’m glad we gave it our shot. At least we won’t be waking up when we’re ninety, asking ourselves what if?” His smile fell a little bit. “How’s Maya doing?”

“She’s doing okay, you know? She doesn’t really understand. She’s just a baby. She wasn’t enthusiastic about staying with poor Inge, but what can you do? She’ll get used to that too. It’ll be harder on Jimmy Junior. He’ll remember that things were different once.”

Buddy grimaced and rubbed his arms. “Yeah. Yeah, hopefully he’ll adapt. I just feel so bad for him. Any word on the dad?”

“Nah. And we won’t know. I don’t want to know.” Alex would have elaborated, but Woodham approached.

He held two thick stacks of paper, one in each hand.

Alex stared at the papers. They couldn’t be what he thought they were. Guys like him didn’t get contracts for things like this.

“We had these drawn up before we saw your screen tests. All we needed to see was your chemistry on camera. It’s not like I didn’t know either of you, right?” Woodham gave them a wry grin. “I’m not going to ask you to sign right away. I’ll give you a week, and I’m going to recommend that you have an attorney go over them. Not because I’m going to screw you over, my boss would have my head for that. Valor Entertainment has a policy of not screwing their talent over, and we’re all expected to hold to it.

“Have an attorney you trust go over it and explain the legalese to you for your own peace of mind. You’re both bright guys, but there’s a reason they went to school to study this crap, all right? This way we’re sure everyone’s on the same page. It does include a signing bonus, so there’s that.” He shook their hands. “Hopefully you’ll be as excited as we are about the Bronx Bar and Grill.”

Alex was pretty sure he thanked Woodham as he staggered out into the November evening. He knew he heard Buddy thanking him. He just wasn’t sure of anything else. He didn’t hear cars or people shouting. He didn’t hear the usual din of Times Square, only a few blocks away. All he heard was his own spinning head.

Buddy grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to talk about this.” Two bright spots of red had popped up in his cheeks, and his dark eyes all but glowed. “This…it doesn’t feel real, Alex.”

“It can’t be real.” Alex ran his hands slowly through his hair. “It just can’t. We’re a couple of guys from the Bronx. Who wants to see us on TV, man?”

“Well, we’re going to need to check these out. They’re contracts, they’re legally binding, and they’re our ticket. We won’t have to be a couple of jerks hanging out and waiting to get into the nursing home anymore.” Buddy tapped his contract. “Do you know a lawyer? Wait, who am I kidding? You know like sixty lawyers. Any of them in entertainment?”

Alex huffed out a laugh. “Well, I have to pick up Maya from Sol’s place.”

Buddy’s jaw dropped. “I completely forgot about Asshat. Maybe because the bar is supposed to have ethical standards. Isn’t he Woodham’s boss?”

“Didn’t Woodham have an affair with you?” Alex closed his eyes and tried to focus. “Look, we need to talk with someone. I’m not exactly thrilled about looking him in the eye right now—”

Buddy pulled Alex up short. “Why not? Oh, Alex, tell me you didn’t.”

Alex threw his arms out to his side. “At least I told him we couldn’t do it again.”

“Okay, but…Alex…it’s Sol…come on.” Buddy shook his head. Then he shook a finger at Alex. “Come on, you. We’re going together. You need a keeper, kid. Besides, it’s been too quiet without Maya around.”

Alex had to chuckle at that. At least with Buddy around, he wouldn’t be in any danger of giving in to temptation.

* * *

Sol wasn’t quite prepared to deal with Alex face to face. He understood why Alex turned him down, but that didn’t mean he was ready to see him in person. It definitely didn’t mean he was prepared to deal with him after hours, in a family situation. He definitely wasn’t ready when Carsten threw his arms around Alex’s legs and refused to let go.

He wasn’t surprised when Alex showed up with that bartender friend of his. If Sol was uncomfortable facing his would-be lover under these circumstances, how much worse must it be for poor Alex? When Buddy, the bartender, cleared his throat and asked Sol to take a look at a couple of contracts, they could have knocked Sol over with a feather.

“I’m sorry,” Sol said, freezing in place. “I’m sure I didn’t hear you right. Did you just ask me to do legal work for you, for free?”

Buddy gave Carsten a significant glance and smirked. “Come on, Sol. We both know it ain’t for free, is it? You’ve already been paid. As a matter of fact, however, yes. Yes, I am asking you to look over a couple of contracts. Since they come from Valor, though, I’m pretty sure someone you trust has already looked at them.”

Sol grabbed the contracts out of his hand and scanned them. They couldn’t be what he thought they were, could they?

He took them into the living room and sat down on the couch to get a better look. He turned the lamp on and pored over them even more carefully. “Woodham wants you,” he marveled when he’d finished going over the documents. “Apparently he wants you pretty badly. He’s making a pretty big gamble. This is a three year contract, guaranteed. Even if the network pulls the plug on your show after six episodes, you get paid for three years. This is significant.” He looked up and made eye contact with both omegas, even though looking into Alex’s eyes hurt.

“That’s not normal?” Alex spoke directly to him for the first time.

Sol snorted. “No. No, it’s not normal. It’s not even normal for Valor, and I’ve done as much as I can to make sure we treat our talent fairly. It’s a very good deal. There is a proviso that Valor gets a cut of any money you make on another network during the term of your contract, but that seems fair. You also keep all money from endorsements and such, which is significant. And you get a generous signing bonus. Woodham clearly wants to keep you in house.” He bit his lip.

Woodham had admitted he’d tried to start something up with Alex. Had Alex given in to get the TV show? That didn’t seem like him, but people could change. And what was Buddy’s angle? He wasn’t getting paid as much as Alex, but he was still making good money. Was something going on here that Sol should know about?

Buddy slid between Sol and Alex, and Sol realized he’d been staring. “So what you’re saying is we should sign.” Buddy’s smile had that about-to-crack look people got when they were forcing things.

“I would. I’m biased, of course. I’m an executive vice president at Valor. But it’s basically a golden ticket. You’d be foolish not to sign.” Sol pushed his dislike of Buddy aside. “Most folks would give their left nut for a chance like this. Double checking is smart, don’t get me wrong. I’m not criticizing you for that. But there isn’t anything in here that’s going to bite you, Valor doesn’t work that way.” He twisted his lips into what he hoped was a smile. “You’ll make a great TV star.”

Alex frowned and took Maya from Inge’s arms. “That just sounds weird. There’s got to be some kind of mistake. Guys like us don’t get TV shows. They hire overeducated, squeaky-clean guys from Juilliard to play guys like us on TV, and then we sit around and laugh at them. It’s a good system. It’s worked out well for us so far.”

Buddy scratched his head. “How exactly is it working out well for us if the squeaky-clean schmucks from Juilliard are the ones getting paid?”

Sol sat back and nodded. He wasn’t going to deny the truth of Alex’s statement. Actual people with lower-class accents rarely got hired into parts. Grit was one thing, but directors and producers had their biases and they didn’t want to take risks. Buddy had a good point, though. Why would Alex object to changing the system?

“We get to laugh at how stupid they look. Easy.” Alex waved one hand, and Maya mimicked him. “It’s not rocket science. Think about it, Buddy. Do you really think we’ve got three years of neighborhood food in us?”

“It’s New York City! We could go to a different neighborhood every week and not be done in three years. It’s going to be fine, Alex. This will be enough that you can move out of that studio apartment. You can give Maya her own room, you know? You don’t have to stay all cooped up. You could even move to another borough. Maybe even Queens.”

Alex’s laugh had only a hint of bitterness to it. “Come on, Buddy. Can you honestly imagine me leaving the Bronx? Me and Maya, we’re there for life, right sweet little doll? You and me, right there by the Stadium. Everyone knows that.”

Sol rolled his eyes, because Alex should have been out of the Bronx years ago and in a loving home, but he had no right to say anything about it. Carsten, on the other hand, had plenty to say. “You’re not going to stay in the Bronx, Mr. Alex. You’re going to move in here with me and Daddy and Inge.” He looked up at Alex with those big eyes of his and stuck out his lower lip.

Alex huffed out a little laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, I wish you could spend more time in the Bronx. I’d take you down to the park, and we’d play the same games I played when I was a little boy. We could go to all the same playgrounds I went to when I was a boy, and you could swim in the same City pool.” He got down onto Carsten’s level and put his free hand on Carsten’s shoulder. Maya reached for Carsten too.

Sol shuddered at the thought of his son, his only child, using a City pool. “That’s probably not the best idea, Alex. I don’t think he’d enjoy spending time at a City pool.”

Alex sent Sol a vicious glare before smiling down at Carsten. “Anyway, I love the Bronx. It’s where I’m from, and I’m super proud of it. You’ve loved hanging around there when you’ve come to see me and Buddy, right?”

Carsten nodded, hair flapping.

“Well, there’s a lot more to the Bronx than that. Maybe, now that I’ve got a better job, I can take you to see a baseball game. We’ll eat hot dogs, we’ll sit in the bleachers, and we’ll chant all the chants when the players come up to bat. Does that sound like fun?”

Sol groaned. “Go ahead and make me the bad guy, why don’t you?”

“It’s the Stadium, Sol. It’s the safest place on Earth.” Alex rolled his eyes to the sky. “But we’ve got time to worry about that later, anyway. Thanks for taking a look at these contracts.” He stood up and shook Inge’s hand. “And for keeping an eye on Maya here.”

“She was a little angel. She’s a good little friend to me during the day.” Inge beamed.

Sol followed them out as the two Bronx natives left, and he convinced Alex to stop and chat privately for a moment. Sol might not have been prepared for this, but he had to at least make the effort. “So you’re really going to be on television.”

“Looks like.” Alex ran a free hand down the fuzzy side of his head. “It’s a lot to get used to. I’m going to have to call Jenny, she’s going to need to find replacements for all my clients. I kind of wonder if I shouldn’t keep the day job for when I’m not filming, but I don’t know what my schedule’s going to be or how much time it’s going to take or anything like that—”

Sol held up a hand. “You’ve got a baby girl to worry about, Alex. You only get to do this with her once. Take it from a guy who knows, you’re not going to want to miss this time, you know? You’re going to want to treasure every minute.”

Alex moistened his lips and looked down. “It’s all so weird. This whole thing. A few weeks ago, I had a job I knew inside and out. I didn’t have any real responsibilities outside that job. There weren’t any kids in my life and that was okay, you know?”

“I can’t believe that.” Sol stepped in a little closer. “As good as you are with kids, there’s no way you were good without a family.”

“I accepted that it was out of the question when you left.” Alex picked his head up and straightened his back. His whole body seemed to stiffen. Even Maya, strapped to his chest, stiffened. “I made my peace with it.”

“You don’t think that’s a little drastic?” Sol turned his face away. “You were eighteen.”

“Can we not go there? It wasn’t something I was interested in anymore. And if it weren’t for Maya, it still wouldn’t be.” Alex heaved a huge sigh. “Anyway. Thanks again for looking the contracts over. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Buddy stuck his head into the conversation. Did they have some kind of prearranged signal? Maybe they just knew each other that well. “Hey, you ready to get going or what? I’ve got to make arrangements, you’ve got to talk to your buddy. And you’ve got realtors to call.” He wagged his finger at Alex. “You’re not raising that baby in a studio.”

Alex shook his head, and the pair took their leave. Sol had to watch them go, which wasn’t easy. He did it, though, because he had to. He entertained the thought of chasing after Alex and telling him he was stupid to refuse to start a family just because of Sol, they could start a family right now, they had everything they needed and even two kids started for them like seedlings bought from a garden store.

He didn’t. For one thing, children weren’t seedlings, and if he was thinking about such things, maybe he needed to get out of the city. For another, Alex didn’t say he’d changed his mind.

The next day he got a call from his lawyer, Linda Oliver. Linda had just received notice that Stuart and Lena had filed another lawsuit against Sol for “alienating Carsten’s affection from them.”

“I did get a copy of the restraining order against Lena Fletcher. Your restraining order against Stuart is still valid, of course, but Stuart is fighting it on the grounds that he’s cleaned up his act.”

“How could he have cleaned up his act in four months when three different sessions of rehab couldn’t do it?” Sol snorted. “Let me guess—he found God. God was sleeping on a bench in Central Park the whole time.”

Linda snickered. “No. According to this court filing, he says he has your father’s support and that the two of you are making efforts toward reconciliation.”

“Oh, my God, we have to put the brakes on that. I’m not reconciling with him. I will never reconcile with him. You could hold a gun to my head and I wouldn’t reconcile with him, okay? It’s just not happening. Him overdosing in the car with Carsten in the back seat was just the last freaking straw.” Sol slammed his hand onto his desk. What was it going to take to get through Stuart’s thick head?

“I’m right there with you. I didn’t want to make assumptions before returning fire, but I’m right there with you.” She left a pause after her words. Sol could hear through her silence. He knew he’d broken before, taken Stuart back before.

This time was different. This time Stuart had gone too far. This time Stuart had endangered Carsten, more than once. This time Alex was back in the picture, and while Alex wouldn’t give himself back to Sol he certainly gave Sol more than enough incentive to stay strong.

“I will prosecute anyone from that family who shows up in my home. That’s not negotiable. We have a custody agreement in place, and he doesn’t get to push back against it when he signed it only a few months ago. Jesus, why does this keep happening? Seriously, what do I have to do to get this man out of my life for good?”

Linda sighed. “Sol, listen. I know your marriage wasn’t exactly a romantic match, but sometimes…well, folks get attached. They get attached to a person, or to an idea. It’s obvious Stuart got attached to the idea of being married to you. And of course, he carried Carsten under his heart for nine months. Why wouldn’t he want to still be involved with his life?”

“Funny how that doesn’t seem to have troubled him before he decided to go overdose behind the wheel.” Sol folded his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t say he was right, Sol. I said his feelings were natural. Cholera’s natural too, but we still have to fight it. My suspicion is that his parents don’t want him hanging around on their dime anymore.” Linda hummed. “I might have done a little digging. The terms of your separation agreement were as generous as your prenup would allow, but you were also smart. You structured them in such a way that he didn’t get the money all at once. He gets it like an allowance or a salary.”

Sol nodded. “Yeah, I did that because I didn’t want him coming back to me for more money after he blew it all on coke. What’s the point?”

“Well, the Fletchers aren’t doing as well as they could be, financially speaking. They were involved with your dad in some financial dealings, but it’s not lucrative enough for them, and they’re feeling the pinch of Stuart hanging around and mooching off of them for drug money. So they’re eager to unload him back onto you.”

Sol grimaced. “Look, I hate the guy, but that’s got to be rough. He’s like the hot potato no one wants.”

“Exactly. But that’s not your problem, and if he wanted it to be different he probably should have gotten clean and kept it in his pants.”

“True.” Sol pinched the bridge of his nose. “So what do I have to do to get rid of him?”

“Him getting locked up for a good long time would be an awesome start.”

Sol winced. Alex had grown up with a parent in jail. It hadn’t been a good experience for him. Maybe having Sol around would help him out, though. “Hopefully he’ll figure it out before that, but if it comes to it I hope it happens soon.”