Part 304 (1/2)

Only P.M. left early, anxious to get back to his wife and baby.

”He's getting old,” Johnno decided, plopping down beside her to play

some blues on a harmonica. He glanced back to study the

seventeen-year-old vocalist who was already an established star.

”Christ, we're all getting old. Before long, you'll commit the ultimate

insult and make us grandfathers.”

”We'll just push your rocking chair up to a mike.” She tipped up the

bottle.

”You're a nasty one, Emma.”

”I learned from the best.” Chuckling, she draped an arm around his

shoulders. ”Look at it this way, there hasn't been anyone else on stage

today who's lived through two decades of rock-and-roll h.e.l.l. You're

practically a monument.”

”'ftuly nasty,” he decided and cupped the harmonica. ”All this talk

about lifetime achievement awards,” he muttered between chords. ”Rock

and Roll Hall of Fame.”

”They have their nerve, don't they?” She laughed and hugged him.

”Johnno, you're not really worried about age.”

He scowled and began to blow more blues. Behind him, someone picked up

the rhythm on ba.s.s. ”See how you like it when you're cruising toward

tucking fifty.”

”Jagger's older.”

He shrugged. The drums had fallen in, a brush on the snare. ”Not good

enough,” he told her and continued to play.

”You're better looking.”

He considered that. ”Rue.”