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first time off in ages with you.”
    “Don’t get me wrong, Lou. I enjoy your company, too. I like working with you. And for the short while we were at it, we had great sex, too. But maybe I have a wider definition of friendship.”
    Louise said nothing.
    Josh went on. “A true friend for me is someone who I’d drop everything to help if they were in trouble. No matter the financial consequences, the reactions of others, the press, I’d be there. And that’s why I didn’t answer right away—that’s the reason I think we are not real friends. There would be too many situations where my reaction would be to call someone else to help you. I’d offer advice or resources but no personal help.”
    Louise nodded slowly. It was probably also her way of viewing the topic. She had to think hard about a person in her life for whom she would drop everything. My sister? Not since the last four times she had substance-abuse troubles. I indeed sent someone else, like Josh described.
    “Do you have people in your life you consider friends?” she asked.
    “Two. If at all.”
    “And you think they feel the same way about you?”
    “I think so. Actually, I know. Because they did come through in times of dire need. No questions asked.”
    “You are lucky, Josh.”
    “I think so. I know. And I need to be.”
     
    The phone’s navigation app directed them into Oxnard’s yacht harbor area, where a sign made out of old boat planks welcomed them to “Flint and Heller Fine Wooden Boats.” The yard held some weather-protected wood storage, a small boat body on a trailer, and a two-story building with large sliding metal-doors that stood open, giving a view into a big workshop and some smaller boats in different stages of construction. A big athletic guy in his midforties—ex-jock from the looks—wearing jeans and an AC/DC shirt greeted them.
    “Hal Heller. An honor to meet you, Josh.”
    “Thanks, Hal. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from Ned McConnaugh in Maine.”
    “Yeah, he told us that your assistant had contacted him. My partner will be right along.”
    “This is Louise.” Josh introduced his companion. “She came along because she’s never seen Oxnard before.”
    “Great to meet you, Louise. Once you’ve seen us, you’ve seen all there is to see in Oxnard. Are you also interested in wooden boats?” Hal didn’t show any recognition.
    “Maybe in pirate movies.” Louise smiled and shook hands.
    “Yeah, those too. Our sign at the yard entrance, that is from a movie, by the way. Remember the big flop, Pirates , that almost killed Gena Davis’s career? It’s from that . . . What do you call it?”
    “A prop. Or set. In case of a boat, both should work.” Josh smiled. “Anywhere to sit down and watch a video?” He held up a memory stick.
    “Yeah, sure, come on up into the office. My partner wants to join.”
    The little entourage drew some curious looks from the staff as they walked through the workshop. One guy in his early twenties who looked like a classic surfer bum stood with a piece of wood in his hand at a screaming machine, mouth agape.
    “Styler, don’t fall into the band saw and splatter the floor!” Hal shouted as they went up the stairs.
    “Waters!” was the only word Styler coughed out.
    “Then go get a drink, but don’t mess up the wood!” Hal replied. Then to Josh, he added, “Never has seen a movie star in person.” Hal nudged Josh, and Louise followed them, giving Styler a wink. The other two workers, a gray-haired Laurel and Hardy pair, laughed and high-fived each other.
    They climbed the stairs and entered the office overlooking the workshop where another guy rose up to meet them. Now . . .

five
    Universes Collide, Not!

Rick
    Rick hadn’t had a good day so far. First he had to talk to Styler about his absences and lack of work ethic, again. That had gone well, but it left Rick stressed. Then a planned maintenance for a big yacht coming in from Marina del Rey was