Page 80 of Between the Lines

Peanut jumped up on the counter to sniff the flowers. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Cece said. “You eat those and you’re in big trouble.”

Peanut gave her a look, then jumped down.

Joe laughed. “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. She’ll be a good girl, won’t you, Peanut?”

The little calico cat wound around his legs.

“Anyway,” he said. “Coffee sounds great. And I came prepared,” he said, lifting the bakery bag he was still holding. “Low-sugar lemon poppyseed almond flour muffins.”

She laughed softly that he’d found something that sounded so healthy. “You know me well.”

They had coffee and muffins, chatting about everything but the interview and yesterday’s procedure, then refilled their cups and walked into the room Cece had converted into her podcast studio.

Joe took it in, nodding. “Looks great. Looks official.”

“It feels official,” she said. “Which helps me get in the right headspace, you know?”

The space was calm and familiar. The worktable was cleared except for her laptop, microphones, headsets, and the printed list of questions she’d sent him earlier. Everything was exactly where she’d left it.

“I’ve got everything set up,” she said. “I just need a minute or two to adjust the sound levels.”

“Take all the time you need,” he said. He settled into the guest chair. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She set the flowers behind the laptop where she could see them, her coffee next to the laptop, then checked the microphone levels out of habit more than necessity. She turned to look at him and grimaced, caught off-guard by a twinge in her neck where she was still sore.

Joe frowned. “You sure you’re up for this today?” he asked. “I’m really fine to reschedule if you want.”

“I don’t,” she said. “I’m a little sore, that’s all.” She shot him a smile that she really felt. “I want to do this interview with you. I’ve been looking forward to it. I think you’ll be a great second episode. A solid follow-up to Blaise.”

“I don’t know,” he teased. “From supermodel to retired lawyer?”

She laughed. “We both know you’re a lot more than that.”

He nodded, eyes twinkling. “All right. If you’re sure.”

“I am.” She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and pulled herself closer to the desk. “Okay,” she said, handing him a headset. “Let’s make this a good one.”

Joe set his coffee cup down, took the headset and put it on. “I’m going to do my best.”

Cece hit Record and glanced at the waveform as she spoke a few test words. Levels looked good. She adjusted her mic a fraction, then settled back in her chair.

“All right,” she said, giving him a nod so he knew they were starting. “This is Real Life: Take Two. I’m Cece Davenport, and today I’m sitting down with Jonas Preston. He’s a retired attorney-turned-songwriter and musician. He’s also the man behind the music you hear at the beginning and end of every episode of this podcast.”

Joe smiled, a little self-conscious but relaxed. “That still sounds strange when you say it out loud.”

“I think the music you wrote for this show is perfect,” Cece said. “I bet most of the listeners would agree.” Assuming there would be listeners, but she had to have faith.

She waited a beat before she continued. “So let’s start with the question that seems the most obvious,” she said. “You practiced law for decades. You had a solid career and a stellar reputation. Why walk away from that to pursue the dream of being a working singer-songwriter?”

Joe leaned back, hands resting on his thighs, his expression so serious that she thought she detected a little pain in his eyes. “Because the profession was turning me into someone I didn’t want to be and someone I didn’t like,” he said. “My soul struggled with the things I saw. The way people treated each other. The amount of betrayal. The kind of pain people were willing to inflict on someone they’d professed to love, all in the name of money.”

He shook his head. “It was damaging parts of me.” He touched his chest. “I knew I was going to have to make a change. And soon.”

Cece nodded, encouraging him to keep going. “Just to clarify, you were a family law attorney, correct?”

“Yes. Some of the divorces were cut-and-dry, but some of them were like the human equivalent of muriatic acid. They destroyed everything they touched.”

She winced. “Was there one particular incident?”