Part 78 (1/2)

clinches that movie deal, she'll be out of our hair.”

”Smarmy little b.i.t.c.h. Did you see that rock she had P.M. spring for?”

Johnno tilted his head and affected an upper-cla.s.s accent. ”Too, too

tacky, dearie.”

”Draw the claws. As long as P.M.”s honkers over her, we're stuck.

And we've more to worry about than our little Angie.” He watched Stevie

come back into the hall.

He was spending more and more time in the bathroom, Brian noted. And it

didn't have anything to do with his bladder. Whatever Stevie had jabbed

or swallowed or snorted this time had him flying. He stopped by Emma to

give her a quick swing, then picked up his guitar. As the amp was off,

his frantic rill was soundless.

”Best to wait until he's down to talk to him about it,” Johnno

suggested. ”If you can catch him when he is.” He started to add

something, then decided that Brian had enough on his mind. It would

hardly do any good to tell him what he'd heard before they'd left New

York.

Imagine Jane Palmer writing a book. Of course someone else would do the

work, like putting sentences together. Still, he imagined Jane would

get a princely sum for it. And whatever she said in her little public

diary wasn't likely to please Brian. Best to let Pete handle it, he

decided, and not hit Brian with what was already going on until after

the tour.

Emma paid little attention to the rehearsal when it got back into swing.

She'd heard all the songs before, dozens of times. Most of them were

from the alb.u.m her Dad and the others had made when they'd been in