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had to prove that Devastation wasn't a fluke, nor a pale imitation that
was clinging to the coattails of groups like the Beatles and Rolling
Stones. He had to prove to himself that the magic, which had dimmed so
during that last year, would still be there.
He wanted something unique, a sound distinctively their own. He'd
shuffled aside a dozen solid rock numbers he and Johnno had written.
They could wait. Despite Pete's objections, the rest of the group was
behind him in his decision to pepper the cuts with political statements,
down-and-dirty rebel rock, and Irish folk songs. Electric guitars and
penny whistles.
When Emma walked into the studio, she had no notion she was being
allowed to witness the making of music history. To her, she was
spending the day with her Dad and his mates. It seemed like an enormous
game to her, the equipment, the instruments, the tall gla.s.s room. She
sat in a big swivel chair, sipping a c.o.ke straight from the bottle.
"Don't you think the tyke's going to get a bit bored?" Johnno asked as
he fiddled with the electric organ. He wore two rings now, the diamond
on one pinky and a fat sapphire on the other.
"If we can't entertain one little girl, we'd best pack it in." Brian
adjusted the strap of his guitar. "Anyway, I want to keep her close
awhile. Jane's making noise again."
"b.i.t.c.h," Johnno said mildly, then picked up a gla.s.s of c.o.ke liberally
laced with rum.
"She won't get anywhere this time either, but it's a nuisance." He cast
a quick look at Emma and saw she was occupied with talking to Charlie.
"She's trying to say she was tricked into signing the papers. Pete's
handling it."
"She just wants more money."
With a grim smile, Brian nodded. "She won't get more out of Pete. Or
out of me. Let's have a sound check here."
"h.e.l.lo there, Enmy luy." Stevie stopped beside her to poke a finger into
her belly. "You auditioning for the band?"
"I'm going to watch." She stared up at him, fascinated by the gold hoop
he now wore in his ear.
"That's fine, then. We always do better with an audience. Tell me
something, Emmy." He bent down close, whispering. "Truth and nothing
but. Who's the best of thig lot here?"
It had become a standard game by this time. Knowing the rules, Emma
looked up, then down, then side to side. Hunching her shoulders, she
bellowed, "Dad!"
It earned her a snort of disgust and a lot of tickled ribs. Struggling
not to wet her pants, she squirmed to the back of the chair.
"It's illegal in this country to brainwash children," Stevie said as he
joined Brian.
"The kid has taste."
"Right, all bad." He took his Martin out of its case and ran loving
fingers down the neck. "What's on first?"
"We'll lay down the instrumentals o. "Outcry."$
"Saving the best for first." With a nod, Stevie sped through some
experimental chords. "Let's get to work, mates."
