I'm Glad I Did (27 page)

When the demo ended for the third time, I was sure it the worst song I'd ever heard. I hated it.

Bobby opened his eyes. “It's not for Ray Charles,” was his verdict. “I can't get past the female vocal.”

I felt my heart sink into my shoes. My first big decision of my music career, and I was wrong. If there was a word that was wronger than wrong, I was that word.

“Bobby, I know you can get past the female vocal.” I tried not to sound whiny or pleading, without much luck.

“I don't want to try,” Bobby told us. “Good Music is limiting me. I'm starting my own record company, Good Records. We're going to be distributed by RCA.”

Luke elbowed me. “So what are you saying, sir?”

“What I'm saying is, if I like what you tell me about her, I want this girl to be the first artist I sign and this song to be her first release.”

My mouth fell open. “You … you … you like it that much?”

“I told you to write about love,” Bobby said. “And look at you. You found a lyricist who could do it. I'm almost never wrong about these things.” He cocked an eyebrow. “It's not
what I usually like. It's not what the business is expecting from me. But I like that, and it gives me that hit feeling I can't explain.” He smiled. “Now tell me who she is.”

“Her name is Rosetta Brown,” Luke told him, while I tried to recover. “She sounds like Dulcie Brown because she's her daughter.”

Bobby's smile widened. “Is that a fact? How old is she?”

Luke shrugged. “Twenty-five, I think.”

“So she's a little old, but we can shave a few years off, and she's got a story, coming from that family. I can work with it. Just tell me she looks like her mother.”

“She does,” we said in unison.

Luke laughed. “Tell him how beautiful she is, JJ.”

“She's drop-dead gorgeous,” I confirmed.

Bobby leaned forward and pressed his intercom button. “Rona, get me songwriter contracts for Luke—what's your last name?”

“Silver,” Luke responded.

He blinked. “You George Silver's kid?”

Luke nodded and looked him squarely in the eye. “I am, and I'm Dulcie Brown's son, too. How's that for your story?”

I held my breath, waiting for Bobby's reaction.

He actually laughed out loud, then pressed the intercom button again. “Make those contracts long term for Luke and JJ. Give 'em each a guarantee of fifty bucks a week.”

“Abso-elvis-lutely.” I could hear Rona's whoop of joy over the intercom.

Bobby frowned at us. “Why are you two sitting there, grinning like idiots? I need three more songs for her session. Now the real work begins.”

I came down early to breakfast the next morning. The truth was, I had been so excited about what had happened with the demo, I couldn't sleep all night. It was one of the few times in Green family history that I was the first one at the table. Juana brought me my coffee and bran muffin, smiling because she could sense I had a really good secret. I smiled back until Jeffrey showed up.

“Top of the mornin' to ya, little sister,” he greeted me, plopping down in his chair.

“Good morning, Jeffrey,” I mumbled.

“So, JJ, I've been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Uh-oh
. It was the first time he hadn't called me “Irving” in years. And since we were pretty much alone—just Juana, no Mom and Dad to act as a buffer—I wondered what annoying little plan for me was brewing under that slicked-back hair.

“I can't imagine what,” I returned.

“Well, here's the thing. I met this girl—”

“So you want advice about girls,” I interrupted. “Here it is. Whatever you're thinking: hold off for a while.”

His lips twisted in a grin. “I don't want advice. It's just that when I was telling her about you, you know, about my family, I realized something.”

“I'm afraid to ask what,” I muttered.

“I haven't been very nice to you for a very long time.”

I nearly dropped my muffin. This from the boy who had never once admitted he was wrong about anything. But I managed to recover quickly. “How about since birth?”

He couldn't help but smile. “Seriously, I think I know the reason now.”

“Do tell,” I said. “Better late than never.”

“Just cut me some slack here, JJ, all right? It isn't easy to admit, so give me points for that. The reason is because you always had the guts to stand up to Mom and Dad and do what you believed in, and I didn't. The whole music thing. You never gave up on it. But I never had it in me to go against them. I toed the party line.”

I stared at him, not believing my ears. “You mean, you don't want to be a lawyer?”

“JJ, I never ever allowed myself to think about being anything else, so I don't know.”

He looked so vulnerable that what happened next was as much a shock to me as it was to him. I got up and put my arms around him, maybe for the first time ever. “You'll make a great lawyer,” I told him. “You negotiated the hell out of our bathroom deal. It's why I had all those bladder infections when I was little.”

He laughed and hugged me back. “So,” he said, “I want to call a truce. I promise not to call you Irving anymore as a symbol of the new me.”

“Bad idea. I think you should keep calling me Irving just so Mom and Dad don't freak out,” I told him, returning to my seat.

“What was that about Mom and Dad freaking out?” asked Jules as he and Janny entered the dining room.

“I've asked a friend to join us for breakfast,” I piped up, quickly covering for Jeffrey—again, maybe for the first time ever. “I hope you won't freak out.”

“Is it this Rona you're always talking about?”

“No, it's my friend Luke Silver. Mom's met him. He's a lyricist … my lyricist. He'll be here any minute.”

Jeff bit his lip, probably to stop himself from making a crack at my expense—old habits die hard, after all—as Jules retired behind his paper with a “that's nice.” As he opened it, I couldn't help but notice an article headlined
MARCH ON WASHINGTON FOR JOBS AND FREEDOM SET FOR AUGUST 28
.

“Mom,” I said, “I want to thank you for everything you're doing for Nick. I know it's all pro bono, and I'm grateful.”

“I'm proud that you know what
pro bono
means,” Janny answered with a smile. “The trajectory measurements of the body seem to confirm Nick's story that she fell through the open window. It may take a while but I know he'll be cleared.”

“And then what will happen?” I asked.

“He tells me he wants to get away from New York and
The Brill Building,” Janny responded. “He wants to go back to Greece. I'm encouraging him to do that.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I pulled myself together to share my news.

“And now I have something to tell all of you,” I announced. “Get ready. Luke and I wrote a song together, and we have our first record deal. It's being released by Bobby Goodman's new record company, and the artist is Rosetta Brown, Dulcie's daughter.”

“Congrats, Irving. I'm surprised but not surprised, if you know what I mean. I had a feeling you'd pull off the impossible,” the new Jeff declared, breaking the silence.

Janny tried to match my brother's smile but couldn't quite pull it off. She sighed. “I can't say I'm over the moon with joy. But I've come to see that you have a good head on your shoulders. I realize that I can't protect you from every bad thing in life, no matter what you end up doing for a living. I am very proud of you, Justice. I'll respect our deal.”

“I will as well,” Jules said in his serious judge voice. “And I must say I admire what you did for your friend Dulcie.”

“So do I,” Janny added. “You stood your ground.”

“Thanks.” I met my mother's gaze. “Mom, you know no matter how much I look up to you, I can't be another you. I can only be the best me I can be, and I've stopped putting myself down for that. So I hope you can love me for who I am.”

Janny's lips quivered. She stood up and walked toward me. I came to meet her halfway around the dining table.
She put her arms around me. “Don't ever doubt that I love you,” she whispered.

“Even if I'm a songwriter?”

“Even if you're a songwriter.” She brushed a loose strand of hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear. “I may not always understand you, I may not always know what to say to you or how to say it, but I always love you.”

I sensed that Janny was a little embarrassed at what for her was an outpouring of emotion, so I gave her a peck on the cheek and let her return to her chair.

“I met Luke during the Bernie episode,” she informed Jules. “He's the son of George Silver, Bernie's ex-partner.”

“His mother was Dulcie Brown,” I added. “He just found out about that recently.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I can't wait to hear about that,” Jeff proclaimed.

THAT SUMMER WOULD BRING
violence in Mississippi, more sit-ins at lunch counters across the South, and on August twenty-eighth, the march on Washington. I didn't know it then, but Luke and I would be going together. We would listen to Dr. King's “I Have a Dream” speech, holding hands in the crowd on that hot and humid day in D.C. In a way, we felt we were already living the dream: a half-Negro boy and a white Jewish girl in love.

But we also knew that there were so many who weren't as lucky as we were.

Janny and Jules would worry about me taking that trip with Luke, as they'd worried about me when I'd first told them about my job in the Brill Building. But they knew
they couldn't stop me from going, from doing what I believed in.

And it was then, on that day, we added another unbreakable rule to the Green family list.

I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL
to my editor, Dan Ehrenhaft of Soho Teen, who read a manuscript of mine and liked it enough to think it would be a good idea for me to write a new mystery about the Brill Building. His patience, understanding, creative smarts, objectivity and general “good guyness” qualify him for publishing sainthood. “Saint Soho” does have a ring to it.

My deepest gratitude to my friend and legal advisor, Robin Sax, who always found the time to tell me the “emmes” (Yiddish word for “truth”) of the law and to calm me down when it wasn't what I wanted to hear. Any legal mistakes in this book are mine, not hers.

Endless appreciation to my wonderful friend, amazing writer, and brilliant teacher, Julie Sayres, who is as generous with her ideas as she is with her loving heart.

Thanks for the memories to Brooks Arthur. Without his power of recall and open heart, this book could never have been written.

To my “computer guy” and friend, Gary Zembow, thanks for always being there day and night, to save the words.

I must acknowledge my dearest, darling husband, Barry Mann, who was no help whatsoever in writing this book, but who wrote incredible melodies for my words, and that's what made a few people interested in what this lyricist had to say when she turned to prose. He was and is still invaluable in other areas of my life that are very important. I thank him for being my guy and love him more every day.

Attention must be paid and thanks given to the late great Leopold Mann, the most beautiful German Shepherd in the world who spent his first six years tied to a dog house and his last two years being loved and loving us with his gigantic German Shepherd heart. He filled me with joy every moment that we shared. Leo watched this book being written and waited patiently each day for me to complete my work so we could go to the dog park. I will miss him forever.