Chapter Seventeen

My dad wasn't the only one who liked to make plans. Roy Everson also had a plan, and he was going to see it through no matter what. He had already been called before a community panel to explain his "intentions" towards Mario Flambeau. Laura Napoli had not given up her defense of her client, and kept pressing authorities to look into the matter. From what I was told, Roy was slick on his feet and made a good case. He was even commended by the panel for his efforts to bathe and transport the legend around town. They were inspired by the story of his successful musical comeback and came close to awarding Roy legal custody of the man. This was more than he wanted, however, and managed to slip out from under that particular obligation. Mario was to remain in the halfway house, but Roy was granted unlimited visitation and extraction rights.

Roy also had another custody issue, this one involving Bobby O'Bannon. Bobby had gone down to the radio station, just like he said he would, and attempted to get a word into Hot Rod, like he said he would, but he failed at that, which was not too surprising. According to the story in the newspaper, the reason given for his arrest was "disturbance of the peace" and "disorderly conduct". The details we learned from Roy and from Bobby were more graphic, involving a fire extinguisher, a hammer, several smashed windows, graffiti spray-painted at random, a lot of obscenities yelled, and some minor injuries sustained by receptionists and security guards. Bobby also obtained numerous cuts and abrasions. The only reason that Roy bailed him out was his plan, his grand plan, which he communicated to us at our house when he brought Bobby "home" late that night.

We'd been asleep after spending a pleasant, quiet evening without him. None of us was happy to be rousted out of our beds by the loud knocking at the front door. We were even less happy to see Roy and Bobby. Roy looked weary and cranky. Bobby was his usual self, bouncing around with a grin on his face, bobbing and weaving and chattering non-stop like a blue jay at dawn.

"I told them", he said, "They'd best get it right. Now they know. Even Roy told them too".

Roy shook himself and sat down on the living room couch, accepting a glass of cold water from my mom. He explained about jail and the mess Bobby caused. None of us were especially surprised. My mom looked concerned - her stray was in trouble - but my dad only wanted to know why he'd bothered, why he'd gotten him out, and why, of all things, he had brought him back here.

"We don't want any trouble", he told Roy.

"I understand", Roy replied. "He told me he lived here."

"He did", said my dad, "until now. We've got a sort of parole system here. Once you violate, you evacuate. Right, Maria?"

"He's right", my mom said to Roy. "Bobby knows that's the rules."

I had my hopes up there for a second. My mom was actually going to stick to our agreement, even though you could tell she didn't want to. Always the helpless in trouble got her sympathies going. If she hadn't been mad about the previous night, there was no way she would have gone even that far. As it was, she didn't stick long.

"The thing is", Roy said, "I can't leave him alone. Not when we have the big show coming up."

"What big show?" asked my dad, looking over at me. I shook my head. I had no idea.

"The Waterfront Festival",Roy replied. "It's coming up in only two weeks. I got them to put in Mario, I mean Bobby and the Bedouins", he added, after a wary glance in Bobby's direction.

"Yes!", Bobby pumped his fists and exclaimed. "Waterfront. Waterfront. Here we come", he chanted. "Bobby and the Bedouins, got them on the run."

"Of course", Roy hastened to add, "They insisted on putting Mario Flambeau on the flyers and the ads. I already explained it to Bobby. It's just marketing. After that we'll see, I mean, we'll go forward from there."

"You said they'd announce us the right way", Bobby interjected and Roy nodded wearily and said

"Yes, that's right". We could tell what was "right" was that he'd said that, not that that was what was going to happen. I already didn't like the sound of it. Then my mom made it worse.

"Well, if it's only two weeks", she spoke up, before my dad could say anything. "I think we can manage it."

"Maria!", my dad scowled, but she scowled right back and as usual, she won without saying another word. Nobody asked me, of course. I wondered who she thought was going to be doing the "managing". Bobby was already talking up another storm.

"Roy says we get to do five or six songs, depending, right Roy? So we already have three that we did in the studio. And they're going to release another, right Roy? 'Anything You Say', is that right? right, Roy?"

Roy was getting up to leave, and nodded but didn't promise anything out loud.

"So the only thing is", Bobby continued. "to decide on the other three songs. Or the two. In any case, the other new songs. And then get together with Mario and that drummer. What was his name?"

"Joey Anthony", my father put in, and turning to Roy he asked if he had checked with him. Roy said not yet but he would.

"Well, two weeks then", my dad said, and turning to Bobby he warned him. "Two weeks and you're out. You understand? And no more getting arrested!"

Bobby just smiled and danced away to his bedroom as we all stumbled to ours.