Part 24 (1/2)

long, fluid sigh of grat.i.tude and hope.

Later, when she lay half dozing under the tangled sheets, Brian sat at

the foot of the bed in his underwear. She was sated with s.e.x, but his

mind was in overdrive. Everything he'd ever wanted, ever dreamed of,

was at his fingertips.

”Pete had film taken of the Atlanta concert. Jesus, it was wild, Bev.

Not just the fans screaming, though there was plenty of that. Sometimes

you could hardly hear yourself sing for the noise. It was like, I don't

know, being on the runway of an airport with planes taking off all

around, but mixed with the noisy ones were people who were really into

it, just listening, you know. Sometimes you could see through the

lights and the pot smoke, and there'd be a face. You could sing just

for that one face. Then Stevie would go into a rill, like in

”Undercover,' and they'd go wild again. It was like, I don't know, like

great s.e.x.”

”Sorry I didn't applaud.”

Laughing, he tugged on her ankle. ”I'm so glad you're here. This

summer is special. You can feel it in the air, see it in people's

faces. And we're part of it. We're never going back, Bev.”

She tensed, watching him. ”Th London?”

”No.” He was half impatient, half amused by her literal mind. ”Th the

way things were. Begging to play in some grimy pub, grateful if we got

free beer and chips for pay. Christ, Bev, we're in New York, and after

tomorrow millions of people will have heard us. And it's going to

matter. We're going to matter. It's all I've ever wanted.”

She sat up to take his hands. ”You've always mattered, Bri.”