Shane had spent afternoons after his therapy sessions standing on the sidelines at Zanuck Field, watching spring ball. Chooch in practice pads, his silver helmet shining in the afternoon sun, taking his five-step drop, setting up, rifling passes to streaking wideouts on long fade or post patterns. He had to admit that his son looked good, but he was hesitant to let him go, to lose him for even a few days, let alone a month. Sandy had raised him for the first fifteen years of his life, and Shane had no idea he was the boy's father. Now, after Sandy's death, Shane was Chooch's sole parent. The newness of this obligation produced a degree of anxiety. Indecision enveloped both of them, swirling around in the front seat of Alexa's car like a sandlot dust devil.

"Why don't you ask him to make a call, find out what the deal is," Shane finally compromised.

"Solid." Chooch grinned at him.

Shane had just transitioned to the 101 Freeway and edged Alexa's car into the right lane to get off at Coldwater, where Harvard Westlake School was located. Sandy had enrolled Chooch there, and Shane was now paying the tuition-more than ten thousand dollars a year-from Chooch's trust account.

"Bud," he said softly. "Not to change the subject, but I need to get your take on something."

"The Chooch Scully Store of 'Sagacious' Advice is open," he said, using one of his new "vocab" words Shane had tested him on last night, after Alexa had left.

"I know you like Alexa. I know she's important to you, right?"

"She's the other level, man, you know that."

"Yeah," Shane said. "I was wondering… How would you feel about putting her into our deal, full-time?"

"You mean you're gonna knock off this light-housekeeping thing you've been doing and finally give her a long-term contract?"

"That's the idea," Shane said, smiling. "But I don't want to ask her unless you're okay with it."