EPILOGUE #2
Carver gave George an appraisive look, then went over to the suede couch in front of the fireplace and sat down.
George sat next to him, apprehensive. He usually knew more about his houseguests than the very little he knew about this guy.
There was something almost conspicuous about this Carver, too, some keen and restless quality that made it hard not to feel his presence.
“So you’re in the music business?” Carver said, studying him.
“Uh-huh. I used to do A&R for a few smaller labels, now I’m a consultant for some bigger labels.”
“What do you consult on?”
“Market positioning, M&A, things of that nature.”
“And what’s A&R?”
“Artists and repertoire. We find talent and bring them along.”
“Did you find Scott?”
“Nah, but I helped bring him along. I’ve known him for about ten years now.”
“You think he’s talented?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think he should be more famous?” Carver said. He seemed to be asking these questions out of pure curiosity, like a kid.
George hesitated. “You know, a lot of these guys don’t actually want to be famous,” he said.
“And I think Scott’s probably one of them.
Do I think there are a lot of people who would like his music if they heard it, and they just haven’t heard it?
Absolutely. I think that’s true for a lot of artists.
But he has a solid fanbase, a lot of friends in the industry, and some of the critics really like him.
It’s not everybody who can actually make a living doing this stuff. He’s lucky.”
Carver nodded, then stared into the empty fireplace like he was thinking. “You like consulting?”
“I do. I like being a contractor. It pays a hell of a lot better than what I made before, and I do less work.” There was a pause, and George saw an opportunity to end his interrogation. “What do you do?”
Carver flashed him a canine smile. “I’m in private equity, I’m a managing director at Blackbrick.” George was taken aback by this, and Carver must have seen it on his face, because he added, “The enemy, I know, buying up your catalogs and shit.”
“Well,” George blustered, though he didn’t disagree.
“I want to leave, though, I’m trying to plan my exit,” Carver said, cracking a few of the knuckles on his left hand. “I’m just not sure what I want to do next.”
“Alright, okay. You interested in music?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, I’m just kinda shaking the bushes. You said you consult on M&A, right? You think you guys could use someone like me?”
“Oh, hell yeah,” George said. “I mean, I don’t think you’ll be hurting for a job no matter where you want to go.”
Carver nodded. “I’d like to help him out if I can,” he said in an unnecessary undertone, tipping his head in the direction of the door Scott had disappeared through. “I mean, joining the industry’s a little extreme, but I’d like to at least understand it better.”
This made George like him more, especially considering that based on what Scott had told him, Carver was the one more in need of help. “Well, if you want to know more, I like talking shop.”
“Appreciate it.”
“He mentioned you’re splitting up with your wife?” George said, knowing it was risky to pry but wanting to see how he reacted.
Carver inhaled, then shot him a brave smile. George noticed he had dark circles under his eyes. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve been divorced twice. It’s tough, I know, even when the love is gone.”
“Yeah. I did care about her.”
“It gets easier with time,” George said. “I know everyone says that, but it’s true.”
“How long, you think?”
“Are there kids in the picture?”
“Nah.”
“Alright, that helps. If it really was dead between you, and she doesn’t drag it out in court, say about six months to get out on the other side of it.”
Carver laughed. “Not too harsh a sentence.”
“Nah, you’ll be fine.”
“I appreciate the hospitality, by the way,” Carver said, and cleared his throat. “I won’t be here more than a few days, I just need a minute to get back on my feet.”
“Hey, no, stay as long as you need. I know how it is. I’m not gonna be chasing you out of here or anything.”
Carver extended a hand to him, and George chuckled and shook it.
The door to the patio opened, and Scott came inside, lugging a duffel bag over his shoulder and pulling a suitcase behind him.
“You need help with the amps and stuff?” Carver said.
“Nah, those can take a little vacation to the mechanic,” Scott said as he walked by. “Pork was 204 degrees, Georgie.”
“Hell yeah, she’s done,” George said, slapping his thighs and getting to his feet.
He got Scott to help him bring the pork upstairs to the kitchen to rest. It was so aromatic that they lingered around the island staring at it with longing for a full minute before retiring to the living room to watch the end of Lethal Weapon 4.
When the credits rolled, George glanced around for Carver, who he hadn’t seen come upstairs.
“You lose your friend?” he said to Scott.
Scott shook his head. “He’s making a phone call. Family shit.”
“Ah, alright.”
The first Lethal Weapon came back on, and they lapsed into a companionable male silence again, laughing at the familiar gonzo absurdities and sprawling out on the sectional while trying to ignore the beautiful smell of pork wafting toward them from the back of the house.
“You think you’re a Murtaugh or a Riggs?” George said.
“Haven’t we had this conversation?” Scott said without taking his eyes off the television. “Riggs.”
“Nah, you’re just saying that ‘cause he’s white. You’re a Murtaugh like me.”
Scott laughed. “Alright, I’m a Murtaugh.”
About twenty minutes into the movie, Carver came back upstairs with his phone in his hand, looking flustered but smiling.
Scott leaned forward, immediately attentive to him, and George muted the television. “What happened, how’d it go?”
Carver walked over to them but stopped at the edge of the white shag rug, bouncing up and down on his heels. “They, uh, want to meet me,” he said hoarsely, and tears welled up in his eyes. George instinctively averted his gaze to give him the dignity of his privacy.
“Yeah?” Scott said, rising from the couch.
“Yeah, like, tomorrow. They want to get lunch in the city. They sounded excited, actually, like really — I called Josh and once I convinced him it wasn’t a scam call, he conferenced Lena in, and we talked for like, a while — they said their other sister’s in Europe right now otherwise they’d bring her too —”
Scott flew to Carver and grabbed him, hugging him hard enough to spin them both around. Carver laughed, sounding delighted. George couldn’t help but smile as he watched this, despite having no idea what the fuck was going on.
When the two of them separated, clinging to each other’s arms while they caught their breath, Carver glanced over at George and explained, “I, uh, I just found out who my biological father is, but he’s been dead for a while, and I just got in touch with his family for the first time.”
“Hey! That’s great news,” George said, relieved that it was something he could actually understand. “That’s what it’s all about, congratulations. Man. That’s a big deal. You want a beer?”
Carver wiped his eyes. “Ah — I probably shouldn’t, no.”
“You want to watch Lethal Weapon and eat some pulled pork?”
“That I can do.”
The three of them settled back onto the couch together, Carver in between George and Scott, and George unmuted the TV.
“You’re gonna have to fill me in,” Carver whispered to Scott. “I’ve never seen this.”
Scott grinned. “Happy to.”