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first rehearsal on Saturday. I saw them last weekend, but I just watched. This Saturday, I’m taking them one of my songs to try out.”
    “Esther, my dear, you are such a musical snob.” Slade laughed out loud. “Isn’t music ever fun for you? Do you ever listen to anything without over-analyzing the holy hell out of it?”
    “Music doesn’t need to be pleasurable.”
    “Says who?”
    “Igor Stravinsky. His ‘Rite of Spring’ at the premiere in France, the concert ended in a full blown riot. You think Ozzy is cryptic? Try some Mussorsky.”

    Back at the Emerald Fox, Slade found Bebe with the others.
    “Where are the new friends, or doesn’t the club serve minors?” Bebe asked.
    “I was expecting a catty remark. You didn’t disappoint me, dear,” he said.
    She looked up into Slade’s eyes and gave a disingenuous smile. Sitting down in the chair next to her, Slade asked Taz, “Would you mind pulling an all-nighter? I’ve got something I want to work on.”
    “Ready whenever you are.”
    “Good, I’m going to the bar, getting us a six-pack. I’ll see you over there.”

    Taz wandered back into the studio, and saw Slade had pulled up ‘Night Walkers’ on the computer. With his guitar in his lap and a serious look on his face, Taz knew it was definitely going to be an all-nighter.
    Sitting next to him at the control board, and glancing over, he asked, “Eddie get home okay?” Slade just nodded. “Was she a good girl?”
    “She’s an adorable critic. She’ll be the death of any man, that’s for sure.”

     

 
    Photo shoot, Paramount Studios Lot
     
    Eddie stood in front of a full length mirror contemplating her white vinyl mini skirt with boots to match.
    Vince had booked a sound stage on the Paramount lot. In one corner of the huge set was a white nylon parachute used as a backdrop for a 1968 electric blue Ford Mustang Convertible.
    In the other corner were two make-up booths which Gretchen and Ginger occupied, busy perfecting their pouts.
    Eddie walked across the sound stage to join Raven who was watching Entertainment Today on a small TV. Faith Hemmert, one of the correspondents for the program, held a microphone in the face of Todd Rivers. Todd, working with the rap artist, “Shiva,” was hired to produce his latest hit “Gambit.”
    Watching it, Raven said, “Just what the world needs. Another rapper sticking his diamond-enhanced fingers into the camera flanked by high status man-candy.”
    “If Ludwig Van Beethoven were alive today, listening to this gutter mouth, what would he think?” Eddie thought
    “Oh, well, what we’re doing here today isn’t all that different, I guess.”
    “Yep, we’re just hired cheesecake for flesh peddlers.”
    “Don’t let Vince hear you say that. He’s in pretty thick with Todd Rivers. He’s trying to get the Moonshine label to sign us, so you might have to kiss the royal ring.”
    “What if I wore a Louis Vuitton baseball cap like Shiva, here? Would that get me a deal? The dude’s practically yelling at me.”
    “ Girl, you just a playa hata,” Raven joked.
    “Yeah, that’s it. Shiva’s brave attempt at greatness has brought me to my knees, groveling in the dust for which I find no phoenix wherewith to rise from these ashes of my covetousness and shame.”
    “What is that, Shakespeare or something?”
    “Nope, that’s my inner demon shouting at my inner saint.”
    “As long as you smile pretty for the camera.”
     
    The clip stopped and Todd’s face returned to the screen.
    Faith, coaxed, “So, Todd, there’s been a rumor swirling around Hollywood—”
    “ Rumor?”
    “Yes, that you have offered a ten thousand dollar reward for your Grammy, which, I understand, has been stolen. ”
    Todd blanched, “ Oh — that.”
    “It is missing, is that correct?”
    “ Yes, yes it is, but you know awards aren’t important. It’s the music that matters.”
    “ So, are you saying you don’t care if you ever get it back?”
    “No,