Different Circles

Jessica Barstow was a graduate of the University of Massachusetts Lowell, where she had majored in Journalism. She was also a borderline sex addict, an affliction stemming from being molested on a semi-regular basis by her uncle from the ages of twelve to sixteen; incidents that, to this day, she had never spoken of with anyone. Unable to get a job as a journalist at any of the respectable publications in the region due to her young age (she was only twenty-six currently) and lack of experience, she had accepted the position at NER a year after her graduation and had been there ever since. It was not the most glamorous job she had hoped to get, but it did allow her to use her propensity for seducing men (and the occasional woman) professionally.

Her official title was “Investigative Reporter”. But to the targets she slept with for the purpose of opening their mouths and spilling information, she was known by a different title: Troll.

Ken Darby answered the phone on the third ring.

“Hey, Chief,” she greeted. “I just hit the motherload tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked. It had been he who had assigned her to go to the hotel in Boston and see what she could dig up on Celia Valdez. A shot in the dark, true, but it seemed it had been an accurate shot. “What do you got?”

She told him.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he declared.

“I wouldn’t kid about something like this, Chief,” she assured him.

“Will we be able to run it in the next edition?”

“I’ll start going full blast on it tomorrow morning,” she told him. “I’ll do a little more digging, verify what I can verify, and then call Kingsley’s agent, Celia’s agent, and Kingsley’s wife’s agent if she has one. They will undoubtedly deny everything, but we will have fulfilled our obligation to run the accusations by them.”

“All right,” he said happily. “Good job. Get it all written up and on my desk by Thursday night, if possible. I’ll get someone working on some file photos of everyone involved.”

“You got it, Chief,” she promised.

Since KVA Records had some business to discuss with the members of Brainwash—the negotiation and signing of the contract for their next album—and since the members of Brainwash lived and worked in Providence, which was pretty much next door to Boston, Pauline accompanied Jake on his flight to join Laura on her tour break. They figured they could knock out two birds with one stone.

Their flight touched down at Logan International at 5:37 PM, eastern daylight time. They rented a 1996 Lexus sedan and made the one-hour drive to the Hilton Hotel in Providence, where Jake had reserved two suites. After check-in, they both showered and put on business casual clothes for the upcoming dinner meeting. They met their one and only signed act in the restaurant on the top floor of the building.

Jake and Pauline had not kept in touch with Jim, Marcie, Jeremy, Steph, and Rick as much as they probably should have since the release of their debut album eighteen months before. Jake himself signed all of their royalty checks and occasionally updated them by phone on his promotional plans. Pauline called them once in a while on sales and income figures. That equation had changed of late, however. Both had been calling the bandmembers frequently to discuss the upcoming recording sessions for their next album, which would be put together over the summer. Neither of the siblings had actually been in the same room with any of the Brainwash members since they had left Coos Bay and gone home back in early September of 1994.

They did not look all that different, Jake noted as they all shook hands and/or hugged one another after meeting up. Jim had put on a little bit more pudge around his middle. Marcie had taken to dying her head a shade of auburn to cover her increasing supply of gray hairs. Steph had added a few tattoos to her upper arms. Jeremy still looked like a stereotypical teacher. Rick was still bald and shaving his head, though he had used some of his Brainwash money to have laser surgery on his eyeballs and no longer wore glasses.

“So, how has success been treating everyone?” Jake asked once they finished the greetings and sat down to enjoy their wine. “Is everyone still teaching?”

“We’re all still working full-time at the profession,” Jim said. “We pulled in some pretty good money from the album, but not quite enough that any of us are comfortable quitting our primary gigs.”