Part 51 (1/2)

didn't matter a d.a.m.n if Stevie screwed every woman on the continent,

though he felt it lacked a certain finesse. It was the drugs, and the

fact that Stevie was rapidly losing control over them, that concerned

Johnno. He didn't care for the image they were beginning to project.

The stoned-out rockers.

s.h.i.+fting his gaze, he looked at P.M. There was a bit of a problem there

as well. Oh, not with drugs. Poor old P.M. could barely function

after one toke. It was the busty blond bimbo that had attached herself

to the drummer two months before. P.M. didn't appear to be making any

attempt to sheike her off.

Johnno watched her now, the long-faced, sloe-eyed blonde-all legs and

t.i.ts in a tight red dress. She wasn't as softheaded as she made out to

be, Johnno mused. She was sharp as a tack, and knew how to play the

tune P.M. wanted to hear. If they didn't watch themselves, she'd get

him to marry her. And she wouldn't stay quietly in the background like

Bev. No, not this one.

The three of them, in their separate ways, were on the verge of

destroying the group. And nothing mattered more to Johnno.

WHEN EMMA WOK% the floor was vibrating with the ba.s.s from the stereo.

She lay quietly a moment listening, trying as she did from time to time

to recognize the song from the beat alone.

She'd gotten used to the parties. Her Dad liked to have people around.

Lots of music, lots of laughing. When she was older, she would go to

parties, too.

Bev always made sure the house was very clean before the guests arrived.

That was silly, really, Emma thought. In the morning, the house was a