I couldn't quite agree. But therewassomething I wanted to say, even if Joel might hate me for saying it. I hesitated. "Have you ever wondered, if maybe itisfor the best?"
Joel stiffened. "How so?"
"Well, because you hate fighting."
"So what?" Joel said. "Everyone hates their jobs, right?"
"Not always," I said. "My dad didn't." My voice warmed as I continued. "You know, he really loved what he did. He'd go out in his studio every morning and create the most beautiful things. And then, when his work was licensed, in reproductions and stuff, well, he did really great for himself."
This was a massive understatement, but hopefully, Joel got the point.
Joel said, "I'm not your dad."
I gave a little flinch. "Uh, yeah. I know."
Instantly, his voice softened. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying, stuff like that? It's one-in-a-million, not even worth thinking about."
"But why won't you at least try?" I asked.
"Because, it's a waste. You know that story I just told you?"
"About the agent? Yeah, what about it?"
"Well, I've got a hundred just like it. Maybe not as big. But they add up."
I pulled back to get a better look at him. "So you won't even try?"
"Look, I'm not gonna die in a gutter or anything. I'm just saying, it's time to give it a rest."
"For how long?"
"I dunno. Maybe a month. Maybe forever. I'm still working on it."
As far as the endowment was concerned, he didn'tevenhave a month. In only three weeks, Claude would be making the final selections.
Bracing myself, I said, "About the endowment–"
"Forget it."
"Just listen," I said. "Is it that you don't have any interest? Or that you don't want to get your hopes up?"
Joel looked at me for a long time, but said nothing.
I tried again. "Like, just out of curiosity, if you happened to be selected, you wouldn't turn it down or anything, would you?"
"Hell yeah, I'd turn it down."
"But why?"
"Because I don't want any special treatment."
"But I'm not the one who decides," I explained. "Claude, this art critic from Chicago,he'sthe one with the final say. And it's not likehe'sgonna give you special treatment."
When Joel said nothing, I tried a different approach. "Okay, about that whole cigar thing, let's say you won the lottery, you wouldn’t rip up the ticket, would you?"
"With my luck? I wouldn’tbuya ticket." He pulled me closer. "Don't get me wrong. I love that you care. ButIdon't. So just forget it, okay?"
But Ididn'tforget it. I had a plan, and Joel didn't need to know about it, unless it worked out the way I wanted.
