Real motorcycles don't run on maple syrup.

Attorney Helen Alexander met Phil Bollard and Andy Wren for breakfast at the Perky's on San Fernando. Mrs. Alexander, or Helen as she said she preferred to be called was a tall, curvy brunette in her late forties and probably outweighed Andy by forty to fifty pounds. She'd been briefed by her daughter, the singer Lula X, who had talked to Phil and Andy the previous night but she had trouble believing the situation.

After they got coffee and ordered --fruit and french toast for her, fruit and a waffle for Andy, and an omelet with potatoes and toast for Phil-- Helen asked if this was a real deal or perhaps she was the one who was being filmed on hidden camera.

"You don't look like Allen Funt except for the shaved head," she said to Phil.

"Who's Allen Funt?" asked Andy.

"Allen Funt sort of invented Reality TV back when the world was still black and white," said Phil. "Only they called it Candid Camera. No story, though, just gags; they goofed on people and filmed it."

"So is someone goofing on me or on our little friend here?" asked Helen.

Andy rolled his eyes but Helen could legitimate call him little, she was three or four inches taller even without her business heels.

They worked through the details as they ate. Andy finally turned down a fourth cup of coffee about the time Helen asked him. "If they offer you this extended deal Phil is talking about, how much do you think it's worth?"

He shook his head. "Possibly three years locked into a role that will probably get old in a month? I think I should ask for a million, don't you?"

She grinned. "Two million, and let yourself be talked down." She pointed a fork at Phil, "And you don't say a word to your bosses about what we're saying here, huh?"

Phil shook his head. "I'll tell them something but nothing to put Andy at a disadvantage."

That stopped conversation for a moment. Helen and Andy both looked at Phil.

Phil smiled which was not that reassuring since he looked like a man who could lie in any position, with or without a pillow. "I like you, kid," he said to Andy. "And I think this is going to work and you're going to be a star. I want to be part of a hit TV production."

Helen snorted. "I think it's going to be a flop and you should get as much as you can in front money."

Andy shook his head. "No, I can't go in thinking it's going to flop. I wouldn't even be able to do it at all. So, I'm going to ask for as much ownership of the project as they will let me have."

Helen frowned. "Am I your lawyer?"

"I think so," said Andy. "But I'm under age, maybe you're my dad's lawyer."

"Huh. You look about thirteen," she grinned. "We could get you emancipated so you don't have to answer to your dad. But that would take time. Can you call your dad, let me talk to him and get him to hire me?"

"I...." The last thing Andy wanted was another conversation with his father before meeting with the producers.

Helen pushed her phone toward him. "Is he at work?"

Andy shook his head. "Not yet, he doesn't go in till about ten when the weather is cold like this."

"You want me to just call him?"

"No, I'll call." He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers.

The phone rang several times before Woodrow Wren picked up. "Who's this?" the familiar voice demanded.

"It's me, Woody," Andy said. He waited out the profanity. "I told you about the job I'm interviewing for?"

"Didn't fuckin' get it, did you?" his father asked. "How come there's no fuckin' toaster waffles? Am I s'posed to just drink the fuckin' maple syrup?"

"Haven't had the interview yet," said Andy. "I need a lawyer before I see these guys to--to negotiate a contract."

"So?" said Woody. "Get a fuckin' lawyer. Fuckin' shyster will probably take half your money, if you fuckin' get anything."

"I've got a lawyer," said Andy. "But you need to hire her because I'm underage."

"You ain't underage in my book, and I ain't got time to go look for no damn lawyer for you."

"You don't have to," said Andy. "I've got her right here, you just need to tell her to act as my lawyer."

"Her? You got a cunt for a lawyer? For Crissakes, put her on."

Andy tried to think of how to warn Helen about his dad but finally just handed the phone to her.

"Mr. Wren?" said Helen, then she just listened for a moment.

Phil looked at Andy. "You call your dad 'Woody'?"

Andy nodded. "He won't answer to anything else."

"Sounds like a character. What's he do?"

"Uh, he, uh, he's a motorcycle mechanic. But he can fix anything that has a motor or wheels."

Phil nodded. "That's cool. Maybe we can do a show about him next." He grinned but Andy only shook his head.

Helen talked into the phone with Woody for a few minutes, but her answers were mostly short and to the point. She made the mistake of calling him Mr. Wren a few times and had to correct that before being able to continue. She rolled her eyes a few times.

Andy listened in to her part of the conversation, wincing. Phil grinned and stroked his soul patch.

"Well, okay, uh, Woody?" Helen said into the phone. "I can represent you and your son in the negotiations. I'll just need a token payment upfront. No, no...." She had to wait out some sort of rant that Phil and Andy could hear part of from the tiny speaker she held away from her ear for a moment. "A dollar is fine, Mr. Wren. Uh, Woody. A dollar will be enough to make me legally your son's representative."

She listened again for a moment then handed the phone back to Andy.

"Give that nice lady a dollar, kid," said Woody. "Woo-eee! She sounded fuckin' sexy. How's she built? Got some damn tits on her?"

"Yeah, but...." Andy blushed. "No. Woody. Please. Just don't."

His father laughed. "Give her a dollar, she says that's enough and she'll take 20% to be your lawyer, agent and manager. That's actually a pretty good deal, kid. She's going to bill you for two hours today but will take that out of her fee if you actually get a contract. And if you don't, I'll lend you the fuckin' six hundred."

Andy could hear his father lighting up a cigarette. "That's okay, Woody, but thanks."

After a couple of puffs, Woody continued. "I told her I used to work in Hollywood as a stuntman myself and not to try any fast ones. Huh? Your fuckin' old man is watching out for you, kid. I shoulda sent you to my old agent but I think his fuckin' liver died years ago. You just take Helen's advice and you'll be good. Fuckin' A, boy. Being an actor is a pansy sort of job but you still got to be tough enough to get what you deserve, hey? Remember that. Don't puss out."

Andy sighed. "Thanks, Woody. Yeah, I'll be home tonight. Yeah." He hung up.

Helen grinned at him. "Your dad sounds like he came from central casting to play a character part himself."

Andy nodded and got out a dollar from his wallet. "He's a good guy, just--difficult. He told you he used to be a stuntman? Yeah, well he had a few speaking parts, too. Years ago, back before I was born. Usually, he played the heavy's sidekick who gets killed right away." He handed the dollar to Helen who touched it but left it on the table, perhaps as a tip. "If the picture was made in the late seventies and had motorcycles in it, Dad's probably there somewhere."

Phil thought a moment. "How old is he?"

"Uh, he'll be sixty on December second but don't tell him I told you. My mom was his second wife, twenty-three years younger than him. He's got two other kids by his first wife, I call her Aunt Donna. She lives in Antelope Valley. My half-brother, Dan, is a cop in the Valley and our sister, Julie, is married to one."

"Well, okay," said Helen. "I've got another appointment at nine, so I have to run but I'll meet you at the studio at eleven." She checked the address with Phil, gave Andy a peck on the forehead and hurried off.

Phil started laughing and Andy frowned at him.

Phil explained. "You ain't anybody in this town, kid, if your agent won't kiss you. You're in now."

Andy nodded, smiling and blushing a bit. He'd dreamed about making it in Hollywood for some time but this whole deal was not exactly what he had ever had in mind.