Part 22 (2/2)

made great copy. And copy sold records.

”I've got you a two-bedroom suite.” The extra expense bothered his

practical soul, but he justified it by knowing that Bev's presence would

make Brian more cooperative, and more creative. And it wouldn't hurt

for the press to know that Brian's family was traveling with him. If he

couldn't promote Brian as a s.e.xy single man, he could promote him as a

loving husband and father. Whatever worked.

”We're all on the same floor,” he went on. ”And security's very tight.

In Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., two teenage girls managed to get into Stevie's room

in a maid's cart.”

”Sounds like a laugh a minute.”

He only shrugged, remembering that Stevie had been drunk enough to

appreciate the girls' offers. The guitarist had rationalized that two

sixteen-year-olds equaled one thirty-two-year-old. That had made them

into one older woman.

”The lads have some interviews scheduled today, then the Sullivan show

tomorrow.”

”Brian didn't say where we were going next.”

”Philadelphia, then Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis-”

”Never mind.” Bev heaved a long, grateful sigh as the elevator doors

opened. The h.e.l.l with where they were going. She was here now. It

didn't matter a d.a.m.n that she was enormously tired or that her

arms ached from carrying the sleeping Emma. She was here, and could all

but feel Brian's energy in the air.

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