long, fluid sigh of gratitude and hope.
Later, when she lay half dozing under the tangled sheets, Brian sat at
the foot of the bed in his underwear. She was sated with sex, but his
mind was in overdrive. Everything he'd ever wanted, ever dreamed of,
was at his fingertips.
"Pete had film taken of the Atlanta concert. Jesus, it was wild, Bev.
Not just the fans screaming, though there was plenty of that. Sometimes
you could hardly hear yourself sing for the noise. It was like, I don't
know, being on the runway of an airport with planes taking off all
around, but mixed with the noisy ones were people who were really into
it, just listening, you know. Sometimes you could see through the
lights and the pot smoke, and there'd be a face. You could sing just
for that one face. Then Stevie would go into a rill, like in
"Undercover,' and they'd go wild again. It was like, I don't know, like
great sex."
"Sorry I didn't applaud."
Laughing, he tugged on her ankle. "I'm so glad you're here. This
summer is special. You can feel it in the air, see it in people's
faces. And we're part of it. We're never going back, Bev."
She tensed, watching him. "Th London?"
"No." He was half impatient, half amused by her literal mind. "Th the
way things were. Begging to play in some grimy pub, grateful if we got
free beer and chips for pay. Christ, Bev, we're in New York, and after
tomorrow millions of people will have heard us. And it's going to
matter. We're going to matter. It's all I've ever wanted."
She sat up to take his hands. "You've always mattered, Bri."
"No. I was just one more scruffy singer. Not anymore, Bev. And
never again. People listen. The money's going to make it possible for
us to experiment a bit-do more than the boy-girl rock. There's a war
going on, Bev. A whole generation's in upheaval. We can be their
voices."
She didn't understand big, sweeping -dreams, but it had been his
idealism that had attracted her from the beginning. "Just don't leave
me behind."
"I couldn't." He meant it sincerely, completely. "I'm going to give you
the best, Bev. You and the baby. I swear it. I've got to get
dressed." He kissed both her hands, then shook back his tousled hair.
"Pete's really high about us being in the first issue of this new mag
that'll come out in November." He tossed her a tie-dyed T-shirt. "Come
on."
"I thought I'd stay in here."
"Bev ..." They'd been through all this before. "You're my wife.
People want to know about you, about us." He bit back annoyance when she
simply sat, running the shirt through her hands. "If we give them a
little, they won't hound us for so much." When he said it, he believed
it. "It's especially important because of Emma. I want everyone to see
that we've made ourselves into a family."
"A family should be a private thing."
"Maybe. But the stories about Emma are already out there." He'd seen
them, dozens of them, labeling Emma as a love child. There could be