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up anyone and make herself at home anywhere. After all, she basically started our whole law firm because she randomly showed up at my parents’ doorstep. She had just whatever “it” factor it took to help bridge the gap between my parents and me.

The band finished their set, and the house lights came up for an intermission.

“I think I see them over there,” Vicki pointed.

About ten rows up, Harmony stood on a chair trying to get our attention. Harmony was an artist and now worked as an art teacher. She was tall, and slender, with long willowy brown hair, usually pulled into the messy bun look. Now, she had it styled into curls descending down her back. She wore jeans and an organic cotton t-shirt, and I was surprised to see her in full make-up. She was usually a low maintenance dresser. My mother was with her, and today she wore a short cream colored macrame dress, and cowboy boots. She had her long brown hair worn down, with white floral clips on the side.

Harmony ran the last ten feet as we approached and squealed and enveloped Vicki in a hug that I thought would knock her over.

“It’s so good to see you,” she gushed. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“I know,” Vicki said. “I feel like it’s been forever. We have to catch up.”

“Totally,” Harmony said. “We have got to have drinks.”

Harmony punched my arm and gave me a side hug.

“Hey, Harmony, good to see you,” I said.

“Why don’t you ever come by my gallery?” she said.

Harmony had so much of her work on display at a small gallery downtown, most people thought it was hers. Although lately she had been teaching art at a progressive school where they didn’t believe in having classes. How that worked was beyond me.

“I didn’t think you had anything new,” I said.

“Well, I do, and I’m doing a show next week,” she said. “You guys should come.”

“We’d love to,” Vicki answered for the both of us.

“Hey, guys,” my mom greeted us and hugged me. “Glad you could come out.”

“Good to see you, too,” I said.

“I hear you’re friends with Marvin Iakova, now?” she asked me.

“Friend is a strong word,” I sighed. “I know him.”

“Really?” Harmony’s eyes were huge. “You actually met Marvin Iakova?”

A young man approached us, and he dug his hands into his jeans.

“Guys,” Harmony said. “This is Jack.”

She looked us over, and her tone implied Jack’s importance. Jack reminded me a lot of her last boyfriend, who had seemed to have come and gone. This one wore chains off his jeans, a biker t-shirt, and a leather jacket. But, the most noticeable thing about him was that he had a blue mohawk that must have stuck at least six inches off the top of his head.

“Hey, Jack,” I said and offered my hand. “How do you get your hair to stay up like that?”

“Elmer’s glue,” he responded as he shook my hand.

“Glue?” I said. “Really? I thought you were going to say gel.”

“Gel does it alright,” he said. “But, if I want it to really stay, and I don’t want to bother with it for a few days, I’ll use glue.”

“It doesn’t tear up your hair?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s horrible for it.”

“I would imagine so,” I said.

“This is my brother, Henry,” Harmony told Jack. “You can ignore him. And this is Vicki.”

“Hi, Jack,” Vicki shook his hand, and he smiled and greeted her back.

“You guys are the lawyers, right?” Jack asked.

“Are we?” I asked Vicki.

“So, I’ve got this band...” he started out.

I sighed and was grateful when my mom’s phone went off, and she cheered.

“It’s Phoenix,” she said. “He’s said he’s going to FaceTime in and see part of the show.”

“How’s he doing?” Vicki asked.

My mom and Harmony eyed each other, and my mom stepped away to answer the call.

“He’s in Columbia, right?” Harmony said.

“Right,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

“He’s joined some Buddhist monks,” she said.

“Buddhists?” I repeated. “I thought he was going to do a documentary on poverty and find himself or something.”

“Yeah,” she said. “He found a Buddhist temple and decided to live with them for a while.”

“Well,” I turned to Vicki, “We can’t say we didn’t see it coming.”

“We should do that,” Vicki said. “We should become Buddhists or Hindus or something.”

I laughed. “I don’t think the Buddhists could handle me. Hindus, maybe, they’ve got the Kama Sutra and all.”

“Oh, gosh,” Vicki blushed. “That’s some real deep religious contemplation, right there.”

Jack laughed and high fived me.

“Kama Sutra’s insane, though,” he said. “You ever tried those positions? I threw out my back once.”

“Well,” Harmony said. “You have to be into yoga.”

“I used to do yoga,” Vicki said.

“Really?” Harmony answered. “You should get back into it. I go every week to a studio. You should come with.”

“That would be fun,” Vicki turned to me. “You could join us.”

“Me?” I said. “Yoga? No.”

“Come on,” Vicki said. “We could all do it together.”

“Yoga, not happening,” I said firmly.

“I’m with you, man,” Jack said. “Yoga’s for chicks.”

“That’s not true,” Harmony said. “There are plenty of men that do yoga.”

“Uhhh,” I groaned. “I’m not that enlightened.”

My mother was on her way back over to us with Phoenix apparently on her FaceTime screen and the conversation turned to Phoenix’s quest.

“It’s all so cool what he’s doing,” Harmony gushed. “I wish I would have done this. Jack and I talked about going on a cross country road trip.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “We’ve got to get the RV fixed up first. Then we’ll go.”

“You’ve got an RV, huh?” I said. “What kind?”

Harmony and Jack looked at each other, and then she

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