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Mirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
I don’t know which were the more exhausting conversations I had that week, the ones with the lawyer or the ones with Lacey. They were equally difficult to understand, but sometimes you just have to go along with things and hope you figure them out later.
The lawyer’s name was Harold Feinbaum, and the first time I’d contacted him had been when Watt had given me his number back when BNC had first put a contract on the table. I’d met him at a swanky Boston office where the carpeting was plush and even the secretaries wore suits.
This time, he came to us. He met us at the house in the afternoon, in jeans and a polo shirt, carrying his briefcase in one hand and a six pack of bottled beer in the other, and I wondered if maybe Watt had been a good influence on him. I found myself feeling pleased that the living room was so cleaned up, though.
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