I deflected Harold and his business proposal as well as I could while pursuing the offer from the recording company. After a brief followup meeting they scheduled some interviews and we moved ahead with the process. Fortunately, they were impressed enough with my work not to demand references, which were non-existent other than Harold. I would have to fake a resume if they had asked for one. They didn't, to my great relief. In that other life I knew it would not be this easy to get by on my flimsy paper identity.

In the meantime, my letter to Janet had succeeded beyond all hope. Things were starting to move in the right direction.

Dear Reuben,

What a surprise to hear from you! I was sure you Angelenos had quite forgotten about me. Things are going well, thank you.

Please tell Harold I said hello and I appreciate his offer. I don't expect to be returning, but you never know. Sometimes I miss "the biz." I had started to get rather good at it, if I say so myself.

I've been getting my old life back in order. To answer your question, yes, I decided to have another crack at cello. I think I have a fighting chance to make a career of it. Over here, I have what you might call a "support network" to keep me going. I felt cut off so far from home.

As for Jimi Hendrix, I don't know why you're certain he'll be here in September, or what you think I can do to create a "diversion." I'm sure many people have tried to get close to him for their own reasons. However, I do have some news.

I happened to bring up Hendrix with my father, who you might imagine to be a bit stuffy about music. You'd be right. But, as he said in his stuffy way, "I make an exception for genius." He's quite the fan it turns out! He has secretly been collecting everything recorded by Jimi Hendrix and the Experience.

In the act of revealing this, he got it in his head that Hendrix ought to perform with full orchestral backing here in London, and he means to pull every string he can to see it happen. I have my doubts, but I don't think I have seen him so determined in many years.

I will let you know of any developments. Do stay in touch.

Cheers,

Janet

This letter proved nothing by itself, but it gave me an understanding of how I could alter the timeline (a term I'd read in stories) not by stepping in directly but through influence. Here was a cascade of actions I could not have envisioned, and others might exist as well. Tap here, tap there, and suddenly a whole chain of dominoes will fall. Predicting where they'd fall, now that was another thing. I admit I felt nervous about all of this.

My interviews went well. I entered into them with the confidence of my other life's experience as well as the past year of work. I had learned how to separate my hints of the future from what I knew directly. My insights might seem uncanny, but i knew how to explain them. In short, the job was mine whenever I wanted it. I explained that I need time to wrap things up.

I brought it up with Harold the next Monday morning, giving us a week to work something out. "I have some news," I began. I paused. "And it affects your plans."

"Uh, OK. Care to elaborate?"

"Well," I started again. It was more awkward than I had imagined it. "To get to the point, I've been looking for another job and I won't be joining your new business."

"Reuben," he said, a little irritation in his voice. "You remember you agreed not to poach any bands."

"Yes. And I'm keeping my promise. I'll drop any bands I picked up with you. I am not going to work as an independent agent anymore."

"Really?" Now Harold was surprised. "You're the best I've ever known."

"Thanks. Uh, I think I want some stability now, a job with a big label." I went into a little more detail on the offer.

Harold grimaced as I explained. Then he began.

"Look, you're swimming with sharks here. They just want to steal your rolodex and leave you for dead."

"I thought about that. I agree it could look like that. We will get it all down in writing. Honest, Harold, the last thing I'd do is hurt your business. I don't think they want the bands anyway. They're just hiring a scout."

"Hmm," he said, unconvinced. "Well, you'd be giving up something big. I was going to show you my plans today. This is where the industry is heading, and we'd be on the leading edge."

"I'm not saying you're wrong," I started. I had been thinking about something over the last few days. "We're coming at it in different ways. I just remembered, I don't know where it's from, but I have a motto I have always followed."

"Really? I'd like to hear it," said Harold, perking up.

"My motto is: 'Come on get happy.'"

"That's a motto?"

"OK, there's more to it. I guess it's just what it symbolizes to me. Tell me this. What is one thing that has no practical purpose, but can bring happiness to people?"

Harold started to reply, but I cut him off.

"Music, obviously! That's the business we're in. Some people make music, and that makes them happy. Others are happy to listen to it. Some people want to make a particular kind of music. Others want to listen to that kind. That's what makes them happy."

Harold was getting impatient. I admitted that my thoughts didn't seem quite as profound when I tried to verbalize them.

"The goal is to bring people together. Sometimes to bring them together singing. Other times, just to bring them together with the kind of music they want to hear."

I held off Harold's interruption to get to the point.

"And my role is to get people together. I find what they like. I find those who make it. I don't judge. I don't try to expand their horizons. I just give them what they want, and make them happy. It's my role in life."

"I see," began Harold. "Well, does that really make you any better than a pimp, or a drug dealer?"

"Sure it does. We're talking about music here, not something harmful, something good."

"Music is a serious business and bad music is harmful," countered Harold.

"To you maybe," I tried to explain. "We have different paths in life. I think you may be onto something with your new label, but that's for you. I am... a facilitator. That's my purpose. I do one thing and I do it well."

"Facilitator, huh. Well, Reuben, maybe there is something to it." He reached for one of the books that had been piling up on his desk and started to flip through it.

I waited.

"I can't find it here, but I agree with something you said. We do have to follow our paths. I don't mean to take you away from yours."

Harold was clearly disappointed, but I was reassured that this would be an amicable split.