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Keith was still grinning when Leslie grabbed his chin and asked, “You make it with anybody?” She had on a pleasant expression, but from the glint in her eye she was perfectly serious.

Hank laughed at his wife’s mischief, shook his head, and said to Keith, “I guess, son, she is not going to give you two minutes of peace as long as you’re here. Y’all got everything worked out?”

Mari came down the stairs wearing a wizened smile and a flimsy housecoat. Which was more than Keith or Lesli had on. “Looks like you two made up,” she quipped. Lesli snatched up a skimpy throw and pulled it over them. Mari had a sheet in her arms and draped it over them too. It […]

When they got to Lesli’s folks’ house, Hank answered the door and saw them in. Said to Keith, “Good to see you, son.” Lesli hung back a little, looking on.

Keith couldn’t figure out what to do with himself upon Lesli’s sudden reappearance. Wanted to walk across the floor but couldn’t move. Helen said in his ear, “If you don’t go over to that woman, I will personally kick your behind 12 ways to Sunday. You feel me?”

Meanwhile, media eyes fell heavy on Helen St. James. And on her rising-star protégé Samantha Smith. Between sound check and the show, Helen and Sam held a press conference. Microphones shoved in their faces under glaring lights.

These three Black superheroes soon will return to a comic book store near you. If all goes well, cartoons, television appearances, movies and toys will follow.

Keith snickered, chuckled, than gave a good laugh when Luis asked his help finding another place to bunk. Sam probably would have no problem putting the bad boy up.

Only a peck of trouble?” You could count on Luis to never use discretion, especially when he needed to most.

Keith slept fitfully, Butch and Sundance sacked out beside him. He was on a sun-drenched beach. Some woman, he couldn’t quite tell who, lying there with him.

Everybody went straight to the stage — the diner contingent and whoever was in the dressing room — at the stroke of nine pm. Quality control, Helen and Keith agreed, meant you don’t keep the crowd waiting.

But for Sam’s complaining, sound check and rehearsal both went well. After which, they had a couple hours off. He strongly considered calling Lesli. Didn’t do it.

When Lesli said she still loved him, Keith threw in the towel. “I still love you, too.”

Luis’ jaw fell open knowing there could only be one woman in whole world on the other end of that line. He fixed him a drink and fixed one for Keith.

About an hour into their bus ride, barely pulled out on I-95, Keith and Luis were tooling along nicely, kicking back, bending each other’s ear. Had some Richard Pryor on the DVD player, sipping brews, the kittens curled up in a corner grooming one another.

While Carl got the sound levels straight, everyone had a nice time catching up with each other, talking shop, joking around. When time came to hit it, Alena Sheridan’s camera crew materialized out of thin air, on a dime.

He chewed his buddy’s ear off the whole trip from West 72nd St. to the East Side. Bemoaning how things with his woman — no longer his — had again gone to hell in a handbasket.

While they were waiting, Keith, Sam and Luis jammed. Helen and Faith sat back and dug on it, a word between them here and there. At one point, Helen said to her, “These are some playing fools.”

“You can say that again. Are they always like this?”

When Helen told Keith he had his work cut out for him deciding on the set list, he sort of smirked and said, “No I don’t.” Put the pen down and handed her his pad. “There’s your list.”

Faith looked back over the nighttime cityscape. “Sam practically worships Helen. And I can see why.”

Keith finally found his tongue. “Oh, yeah. That woman truly is a piece of work. All the talent in the world and more personality than the law should allow.