Barry leaned back in the car. Al Green began singing “For the Good Times” and Barry shut his eyes and remembered an Asian woman he met on a shoot in Toronto. She came back to his room and spanked him in his suite at the Four Seasons while an Al Green CD was playing. Barry saw her every night for the rest of the shoot.

As Julian drove over the George Washington Bridge to New Jersey, Barry closed his eyes and smiled.

“You look good, Clarice.” Barry sipped a glass of Pellegrino. He had chosen Vico because it was an uptown family restaurant. Barry didn’t want to get distracted by agents and media hangers-on like you get at Da Silvano. He didn’t need chic. He just needed to get this done. “I like your scarf,” he complimented her.

“It’s the Christmas one you gave me. You got it at Hermès in Paris.” She sat straight-backed in her chair.

“So what’s new, Clarice?” He decided to get the bullshit out of the way.

“Brooke’s teacher says she’s participating more in class. She seems to be very interested in the Greek myths they’re studying.”

Barry looked at her well-scrubbed face. She could talk all night about the teachers and the Greek myths. She had that ability to take whatever regular stuff that went on during the day and make it seem earth-shatteringly important.

“Clarice, I need you in my life,” Barry said firmly when she had finished describing the daily trials and accomplishments of each child.

“You mean you’re not seeing Samantha anymore?” She certainly wasn’t anticipating this.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He reached for her hand. “I don’t understand why I can’t have you and Samantha. Both.”

“What?” Clarice couldn’t contain her emotions the way her nutritionist was training her to.

“You are both very different, and I need you both in my life. You are my anchor, what we call in the movies my through-line. The thing that connects all the dots. The mother of my children. She’s my heartbeat, my flesh.”

“Barry, thank you so much for not having Yvonne call to tell me this.” Clarice couldn’t believe that came out of her mouth.

“That’s a bitchy thing to say.” He pushed his plate away from him.

“Sorry.” She looked at the pasta still sitting on his plate. “Barry, you didn’t eat anything. Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine, Clarice,” he said defensively. “But your thinking is very narrow and very selfish. I need you right now.”

“I’m working very hard at getting better, Barry. Please don’t confuse me.”

Barry didn’t like this new coolness that Clarice seemed to be showing. If this is how she was getting because of the nutritionist or the hypnotist or the acupuncturist, he was going to stop paying for them.