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actual kicking and punching—he somehow knew they would never intervene. Even when he pinned me to the floor, and it was clear I couldn’t win, they insisted we work out our disagreements ourselves. Finally, when I was ten, I begged Janny to sign me up for Brazilian jujitsu classes (Juana actually told me about it) because it was all about ground fighting. She was happy to do it, even though I was the only girl in the class. But I was such a klutz that after all my classes I only mastered one move, the upward lift escape. By then Jeff had stopped attacking me physically and had moved on to verbal assault. And that, of course, made his suggestion right now scarier.
    â€œHmm,” Janny mused, rolling Jeff’s proposition around in her meticulous mind.
    I had to hand it to Jeff: I could tell the thought of never having to hear me talk about songwriting again had madean impact on Janny. Her lips curved up in a little smile. “Would you agree to that, JJ?” she asked. “I might actually let you do this if you promised that it could be a way to put an end to your songwriting fixation.”
    I shot Jeff a dirty look and turned back to my mother. “Why are you all so sure I won’t get a record?”
    â€œBecause you’re a Green,” Jules proclaimed in his courtroom voice. “You were born for the law.”
    That’s how simple it was for them. They honestly believed that music was a decision I had made, like wanting to learn Brazilian jujitsu. But it wasn’t. It was a part of me—like my laugh and big feet—like arguing was for them. I didn’t know if I had talent. I didn’t know if I would ever write a song worthy of being recorded. But I knew I had to have the chance to try.
    Bobby himself had told me I didn’t know what I was doing. A door had opened, and I had to walk through it. Maybe Jeff’s deal was fair. If I couldn’t get a song recorded this summer, maybe it would be a sign that I was on the wrong track. I didn’t know how I’d go on living after that, but I’d worry about the future when it became the present.
    â€œI’ll do it,” I said. “If a song of mine isn’t recorded by the time I start school, I’ll give up songwriting.”
    â€œAgreed,” Janny and Jules announced, almost in unison.
    Court adjourned
, I thought with a mixture of terror and relief.
    â€œGood luck, Irving,” said Jeff with a wicked grin. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

    Two mornings later, at 9:50, I joined the crowd surging into the Brill Building. At this hour there was a more even mix of men and women; the secretaries were reporting for work. But there was another crucial difference. Today I really belonged. My dress, an olive-green linen Jonathan Logan shift with buttons on the shoulder, had been approved by Janny. Even if I was going to hell, my mother insisted that I go in style.
    I was waiting for the elevator when I spotted him: Mr. Green Eyes. Once again he was engrossed in a sheaf of papers, waiting for the elevator. I snaked forward so that we pushed our way through the door together, shoulder to shoulder.
    â€œWriter or publisher?” I asked, smiling my warmest smile.
    He looked up for an instant with total disinterest. “Both,” he answered, and dropped his eyes back to his paperwork.
    I wanted to disappear into the background, but I’d wedged myself next to him, so I had to put up with being ignored until he got off at seven.
    As it turned out, this little fiasco was pretty much an omen of things to come.
    WHEN I WALKED IN to Good Music, the girl at the switchboard motioned me through the door into the big room. Rona was on the phone at her desk, but the second she saw me, she waved me over.
    â€œI’ll be sure to have Bobby get back to you,” she purred sweetly into the mouthpiece. Then she slammed it down on the hook and snapped, “Sure I will, after I