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say, after six months performing all over Montreal and area, a CD would give us a fresh start.
    We’ve broken in several songs, changed the lyrics on others. We’re convinced that “Live in the Dark” could be a huge hit. It’s simple but catchy from the very first note on. I often hear teens humming it in school or on the bus.
    When I need help
    And nobody comes
    I’m left alone
    To grow by myself
    When I need love
    And nobody cares
    I’m left alone
    Carry on myself
    Pain and hurt
    Just staying alive
    It’s sad for me
    When it’s fun for you
    Forget this truth
    Like living a lie
    Try running away
    From old Destiny
    (chorus)
    I live in the dark
    I live in the dark
    And it’s the night
    All day long
    We’re so desperate to record that we accept Tom’s back-up plan. A homemade option. Tom provides a recording studio and produces a CD for sale in schools, under the table.
    The problem, though, is the whole thing will cost at least $6,000, money that has to come out of our pockets. But Tom’s agreed to ante up the cash, and we’ll pay him back with the proceeds from our shows.
    We’re tempted by the whole arrangement, as unprofessional as it sounds. We’d rather have a legit CD . But by accepting, it’ll be a way of getting our songs circulating through the schools, where our audience is.
    Tom even came up with the idea of hiring a roving sales team—comprised of students—to sell the CD s in schools. The hitch is that he’s dead set against giving us any royalties. He claims the whole operation requires too big of an investment, money that could be put to better use elsewhere. He’s adamant. “If you think that on top of lending you that amount of cash, I’m going to hand over royalties to the copies sold, you’ve got another think coming. I’m no Santa Claus!
    â€œI’m willing to take the risk even knowing I could lose my shirt on the deal. You know as well as I do that most students burn their own copies of their favorite singers’ songs.
    â€œSo if I’m lucky, I’ll clear at the most $1,000 from CD sales. That’s equal to the commission I’d be entitled to anyway. But if sales are more sluggish, I probably won’t make a cent off a $6,000 investment and a project that will take at least three weeks’ full-time work from me.
    â€œIn other words, I’ll have done all that for nothing, and lost money to boot. That would make me, Tom Paradis, the king of fools. If that’s what you think, I’ve got news for you! Anyway, enough idle chit-chat. Take it or leave it, end of story.”
    So we take it! The desire to see our band’s name on a CD is too strong. We can’t resist. We sign an I.O.U. with him. And keep our fingers crossed.
    What a disappointment! The CD cover is godawful. Luckily, the sound quality’s not bad. But that picture! Yuck! Tom’s taste to a T . About as tacky as can be. A black-and-white picture of Mélanie dressed like a call girl.
    How could she have agreed to be photographed in that getup without consulting us first? It’s a total mystery to me. Tom must have convinced her that what sells tapes isn’t always tasteful. Not that he can distinguish between what’s tasteful and what’s not. Sometimes I wonder why he ever took us under his wing.
    As for Mélanie, she’s barricaded herself behind a wall of silence. It’s like she’s become Tom’s ally. She claims the picture isn’t all that bad, it’s just my jealousy talking. For the past few weeks, Mélanie’s pretending she’s someone she isn’t. Better than everyone else. She slips away every chance she gets.
    I suspect she’s let herself be taken in, again, by an older man. That’s her downfall: she’s obviously searching for a father figure to replace the one she doesn’t have. But it’s impossible to coax her to talk about