Thanks to those who are reading this. Just as an FYI, the things that Sam predicted were all true, except for the I95 accident. But as Greg stated and everyone who lives on the East Coast knows, there's always an accident on I95!

Chapter 10

Sam could tell that the audition had gone very well. The guy was really talking to Greg, while Ed and Harley stood at the bar drinking. Harley kept glancing nervously to the table where they sat. When Greg got up and went back to the piano, she wasn't sure whether to follow him or stay with Ed, who was droning on about them possibly getting another hotel room that night.

Ugh, she thought, not again if she could help it. Now that he'd brought the boss, all she needed to do was sign a contract and she'd be done with that crap for good.

She smiled at him, but didn't agree to anything. "Maybe we should go back to Mr. Bascombe. He's sitting all alone."

When Greg finished his next set, Harley was waiting for him in the back room.

"What did Mr. Bascombe say to you.?"

He looked at her anxious, pretty face and said, "He's going to sign us."

"Really? Oh, my God, that's wonderful." She put her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"You'll start off as a background singer."

"That's okay. Oh, my God! I'm going to go quit my job tomorrow! Well, not tomorrow, I'm off tomorrow. But Friday, I'm going in there and quitting."

Greg started to get uncomfortable. She was quitting a job that was steady and secure to do something that wasn't going to make her a star.

He knew he shouldn't really worry about it. It was her choice. Besides she might just make it anyway. He'd seen other women with little or even no talent get a hit record. Looks could carry a person for a little while. Maybe long enough for her to make a little money.

She stayed near him for the rest of the night. Bascombe gave Greg his business card, then he and Ed left the bar.

When he finished playing, and while Harley ran to the ladies room, Sam went to him.

"I take it your audition went well?"

"Yep."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to sign a record deal and become a big star."

"You can't do that, Greg!" Sam insisted. "You have to go to medical school. You have to be a doctor."

"I don't HAVE to do anything. I can – and will -- do anything I want."

"And he wants to be a big star." Harley said from behind him. "We both do. Right, Greg?"

"Right." Greg said, without looking at either of them.

They went back to his apartment. As they lay in his bed after making love, Harley chattered on about what they would do and how much money they would make. Greg didn't say anything; he just let her keep talking until she fell asleep.

But he didn't sleep for a long time.

The next day, Harley left around noon and Greg got dressed and decided to go for a walk. He wasn't sure why as he usually hated walking. He never understood why people made such a big deal about it. Everyone could walk. Well, except if you were crippled. Maybe he'd appreciate it if that ever happened to him, but right now, geez, what was the point?

But for some reason, today is seemed like the right thing to do. He ended up by the harbor. In Baltimore, everyone always ended up by the harbor. He sat on a bench and looked out on the water.

Baltimore was more of a home to him than anywhere else he could ever remember. Growing up as he had, moving from place to place, he'd never had the opportunity to put down roots anywhere. But he'd spent four straight years at Hopkins for undergraduate studies. It was the longest he had ever remembered living in one place in his entire life.

He'd gone to Michigan for medical school, but when he'd been expelled, somehow he knew he'd go back to Baltimore. And Hopkins had accepted him.

So when he'd been expelled from Hopkins, he'd decided to stay in Baltimore. Why not? It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. He sure as hell wouldn't have gone to his parents' house.

But now, it would change. No matter what he decided to do, he'd have to leave Baltimore.

Bascombe was just visiting Baltimore. If he signed the record deal, Greg knew he'd have to move to New York or L.A. And if he decided on medical school, he'd be living in frigging Montana.

So his choices were:

Move to one or another of the most exciting cities in the world, play music, take drugs and get laid by lots and lots of women.

Or go to the middle of nowhere and back to school, then spend the next few years of his life working like a madman with no sleep to spend the rest of his life working with sick people.

This should be an easy decision.

Then why wasn't it?