“A Slacker’s Guide To The…Presents…Mr. Wonderful and The Silencers/An Immaculate Conception/A Return To The Ones”

“The Immaculate Conception is bullshit, you think?”

Harvey always had these heavy questions that usually led nowhere in particular; and if you played along for long enough, he’d forget his destination. It usually helped that it was after work, and over food and beverage of choice. I was a lemonade drinker, myself. No addiction or sobriety pact. I just had to be in the mood. Harvey — especially when he loosened his tie as he did; his wine goblet holding up his phone, so his wife could see me, his lawyer; and not another woman at an evening business meeting — was in the mood.

I sparked a flame, then answered. “I guess, if you don’t believe in miracles…”

“That’s hedging a bet.”

“I’m a lawyer — a good one — what do you expect?”

“Some advice right now;” I knew the face and what the wrinkles meant. “Lala knows about Nic and my son.”

“You’re…that’s on record?” I wanted to applaud the stance. I ordered a neat Macallan 12; nothing special, because this was beginning to sound like a victory lap overseas somewhere, was going to be hard to find.

“Absolutely.” I smiled. “That’s my son. I have three daughters. I have a wife; a mother, and aunts. And a special trust I need to set up. I want…