Page 53 of Lilly

"About the kids?" he asks.

"Or anything else you'd like to discuss."

I wait for him to respond but he doesn't, his eyes glazing over as they drift to the floor.

"Dean?" I say, trying to get his attention.

His head pops up. "Yes. Sorry. I'm a little distracted. I have a meeting later and I'm—never mind." He straightens up in his chair. "What were you saying?"

I'd planned to just make small talk and discuss the real issues later but I don't know how many more of these encounters I can take. Dean is likely a nice man, but for some reason, he grates on my nerves. Maybe it's his constant fidgeting. He's doing it now with his hands. They're in his lap but he keeps twisting them around each other, like he's nervous about something. Maybe the meeting he has later.

"I'm just going to be direct," I say. "I have some questions that may offend you but they need to be asked and I'd appreciate it if you'd answer honestly."

"Of course." His hands twist faster in his lap. He notices me watching him and stops, placing his hands at his sides. "Go ahead."

"I imagine that going on the road with musicians involves certain activities. Activities that may be considered appropriate while on the road but are not appropriate in everyday life." I look directly at him. "Drugs. Prostitutes. Excessive alcohol. Perhaps even some bribes to law enforcement to cover up the unlawful behavior of your musicians."

He rises up from his chair and walks to the wall of windows, his back to me. "I don't see why that's any of your business."

"It's my business because I don't want my daughter around those activities."

He whips around, facing me. "She's not. I would never—I don't do those things anymore."

"I asked you to be honest with me. You may not think this concerns me, but when it comes to anything that even remotely affects my daughter, it most definitely concerns me."

He goes and sits behind his desk, his head down, his hands fiddling with a pen. "Then yes. I occasionally do those things you mentioned. Even when not on tour." His head rises. "But not the part about the police. I'm not doing that. My musicians might, but not me." He stands up and walks over to me. "Pearce, I'm sure you're aware these things go on in this industry. It isn't considered a crime. Booze, drugs, women. That's the music industry. Hell, it's the whole entertainment industry. Go to any party in L.A. and you'll get exposed to that and more."

I stand so I'm at his level. "I'm aware of that. My concern is for Lilly. I don't want her exposed to any part of that world."

"She won't be. She hasn't been. I promise you."

"Are there drugs in your apartment?"

He hesitates. "Yes. In my dresser. But I'll get rid of them. And as for alcohol, I keep it in my room, but Reed has never touched it, and never will. As you know, he doesn't drink."

"Let's sit down." I motion to the chairs and we sit, facing each other. "The other concern I'd like to discuss today is Reed and his plans for the future."

"I don't...I don't know what his plans are, but I can tell you he has a...a very bright future."

Dean's stammering is troubling, as are his furrowed brows and his hands, which he's now wringing together to the point it looks painful.

"Is something wrong, Dean? You seem stressed."

"Do I?" He forces himself to relax his hands. "I guess it's just been a stressful day."

"Your stress level seemed to rise when I mentioned Reed's future. Any reason why? Are you keeping something from me?"

"No! No, of course not. Reed has told me the same thing he's told you."

"Which is what?"

"That he wants to sell his paintings in a gallery and do commercial art to supplement his income."

It's the same plan Reed told me. It's good to know he didn't just make that up to appease me. But Dean's reaction to my question has me wondering what else he knows. What he's not telling me.

"Is Reed planning to move away after college? Leave California?"

"Not that I know of. He was born and raised here. I assume after college he'll come back to L.A.."

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