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They'd come a long way from a two-room flat with a single creaky bed.
They owned a pair of homes now, in two countries, but the s.e.x was as
strong and sweet as it had been when he had had nothing in his pockets
but desperate hopes and s.h.i.+ny dreams.
They rolled over the bed, limbs tangled, mouths growing hungrier. As she
rose over him, he watched her aching pleasure reflected on her face.
She'd changed so little. Her hair swung to her shoulders now, sleek and
straight. Her skin was milk pale, delicately flushed from the pa.s.sion
that heated it. Pus.h.i.+ng up, he circled her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with slow, whispery
kisses. When her head fell back, he sucked greedily, excited by the
small, helpless sounds she made.
With Bev, he wanted the beauty. With Bev, he found it.
Gripping her hips, he lifted her up and onto him, letting her set the
pace. Letting her take him exactly where he wanted to go.
Nm&D, SHE STRETCHED then curled up against him. With her eyes half
closed she could see the sun pouring through the windows. She wanted to
pretend it was morning, some lazy morning, when they could stay just as
they were for hours.
"I didn't think I'd like staying here this time, for all these months
while you recorded. But it's been wonderful."
"We can stay a bit longer." His energy was beginning to build, as it
always did after making love with her. "We could take a few weeks, lie
around, go to Disneyland again."
"Darren already thinks it's his own personal amus.e.m.e.nt park."
"Then we'll have to build him one." He rolled over, propping himself on
his elbow. "Bev, I had a quick meeting with Pete before I came home.
"Outcry' has gone platinum."
"Oh, Bri. That's marvelous."
"It's more than marvelous. I was right." He pulled her by the shoulders
until she sat beside him. "People are listening, really listening.
"Outcry' has become like an anthem for the antiwar movement. It's
making a difference." He didn't hear the faint desperation in his voice,
the desperation of a man trying to convince himself "We're going to
release another single from the alb.u.m.. "Love Lost,' I think, though
Pete's muttering about it not being commercial enough."
"It's so sad."
"That's the point." The words snapped out, and he bit off the impatient
rest to continue more calmly. "I'd like to pipe it into Parliament and
the Pentagon and the U.N., all those places where the smug, fat b.a.s.t.a.r.ds
make decisions. We need to do something, Bev. If people listen to me
because I have hit records, then I have to make sure I have something
important to say."
IN mE PEWHOUSE HE'D RENMD in the heart of L.A., Pete Page sat at his
desk and considered the possibilities. Like Brian, he was delighted
with "Outcry"'s success. With him it was a matter of sales generated
more than social conscience. But that's what they paid him for.
As he had predicted only three years before, Brian and the others were
very rich. He was going to see to it that they all became a great deal
richer.
Their music was sterling. He had known that since he'd listened to