Part 303 (2/2)

straight.” He laughed, his shoulders moving restlessly. ”I sound like a

b.l.o.o.d.y public service announcement.”

”No. You sound like someone who's happy.”

He grinned. It was true, he was happy. More, he'd begun to believe he

deserved to be. ”I'm still the best,” he told her as they walked toward

the stage. ”Only now I can enjoy it.”

She saw her father being interviewed offstage. He was happy too,

she thought. Johnno was stage right hara.s.sing P.M., who was trying to

show off baby pictures to any technician he could collar.

The group on stage had broken off rehearsing. They were young, Emma

noted. Six smooth young faces, under ma.s.ses of hair, who were up for

Best New Group. She could feel the nerves from them, and she could see,

with a sense of pride, the way they glanced toward her father from time

to time.

Would they last so long? she imagined them asking themselves. Would

they make so deep a mark? Would another generation be touched, and

moved by their music?

”You're right,” she said to Stevie. ”You are the best. All of you.”

She didn't think of Blackpool again. She didn't look over her shoulder.

For hours she indulged herself, taking pictures, talking music, laughing

at old stories. It didn't even bother her to make an entrance, and

stand at the podium reciting her lines to a near-empty theater. She sat,

sipping a lukewarm c.o.ke, as some of the musicians jammed centerstage on

old Chuck Berry tunes.

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