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She smiled.  “Well, Mom, I mean, you know, P’nyssa, was always
busy.  She was trying so hard to master this new skill that so few
people had before the Tindals, and she was also trying to earn a
physical medical degree at the same time.  She knew I needed a
mother, so she made an agreement with T’Fia.  They both raised me.”

“It sounds… mechanical when you say it that way.
‘Agreement.'”

“Well, you weren’t a part of it,” she replied.  “They were both
wonderful to me, and both of them did everything they could to raise
me.  They did a good job.”  SpanishGP Barcelona Massage was about to compliment her when she
glanced down at her watch.  “OhMiFah!  I’m due on stage in less than
an hour!  I can’t believe I let the two of you keep me here so long!
I told you to warn me when I had to go!”

I looked at the wallclock and agreed with her.  “Well, you
didn’t ask Dave, and none of us really keeps track of the time.
Besides, half an hour is plenty of time… isn’t it?”

“No, no, no!” she said, standing up.  “Come on.  If you’re going
to listen to me play we have to get moving.  I have to do my hair,
and my eyes, and… Come on!”

“Coming, coming!” I said, laughing.  I had promised P’rose
earlier that I’d come listen to one of her concerts.  “Shouldn’t I,
like, dress for this?”

“You’ll be backstage.  You don’t have to dress up like the kids
out in front.  Come on!” SpanishGP Barcelona Massage She grabbed my hand in her mitten and
hauled me towards the door.  I was surprised by the strength in her
grip and said so.  “Years of guitar,” she insisted as we half-walked,
half-ran down the hallway towards the SDisk.

We reappeared in a darkened town on a dirt road.  “P’rose!”
someone shouted from the edge of the SDisk.  “We waited for you.  The
AI said you’d be here.  You’re late!”

As my vision resolved, I saw a young, black Felinzi on a
stylish, forward-swept motorcycle painted in gleaming red.  She held
a helmet under one arm.  “Heya, K’nady.  Do you have room for him?”
P’rose asked, pointing her thumb back at me.

“Can do.  March?”

“I can carry him.  Who is…”  Another motorcycle, this one much
wider in the middle, more ‘muscular’ looking, pulled up alongside me.
“Vatare’!  It would be an honor if I could escort you to our show.”
The driver was apparently a short Mephit.

“Cut the ‘honor’ and it’s a deal,” I said, straddling the back
of his bike.  Springs SpanishGP Barcelona Massage whispered softly under the added load, and the
engine gunned.  I couldn’t make out his species since he was wearing
a helmet.  “Got a helmet for me?”

“Attached to the rear,” he said.

I picked up the small box he pointed to, pulling out the cloth
within.  A touch of a small stud on one corner of the small box and
the cloth immediately hardened into a fully functional helmet.  I
pulled it on.  “Set,” I said.

“Let’s ride!” the Felinzi shouted.

“Yieee!” I shouted as the Mephit gunned the engine and the rear
wheel spit dirt and grit backwards.  The bike vibrated insanely, but
he seemed to have it completely under control.

P’rose’s bar, The Rose, is currently the “hot” place on Pendor.
I guess being a stick-in-the-mud kind of guy has set me a little
behind the times.  But P’rose’s latest song is skyrocketing in
demand; the AI that keeps the charts says that replays of her song
have been in the top-five rotation slot for nearly seven weeks now.
I don’t really understand that; to me it sounds like just another
popular rock song.  Her progress up the charts has given her enough
friends that she persuaded them to build her a nightclub, complete
with all the fixings.  She didn’t build it from scratch, but instead
took it over from someone who, she had said, had grown tired of the
therapy business and was going back to school to study history
instead.

The two bikes soared through the town, which an AI inquiry in my
head identified as Ramdal, a curious name by any measure.  The Mephit
handled his bike as if he had been born driving it, an attitude that
reassured me. SpanishGP Barcelona Massage The wind whipped past my leather jacket as the bike
cornered tight around a two-story building and pulled up into an
alleyway.  A couple of rats ducked as the lights of two internal-
combustion beasts growled their way to a door.  “Here we are.”  He
got off the bike, and so did I, returning the helmet.  “Thanks,” I
said.

“Thank you,” he replied, grinning.  “If I can calm down enough,
I’ll really be in the mood to rock tonight!”

“Come on, March,” P’rose said, grabbing him by the shoulder.
“Let’s get dressed!”  Just as she had done with me earlier, she
hauled him in through the dark doorway out of sight.

I followed, curious, and apparently invited.  Inside, there was
a madhouse of two mels and four fems hurriedly dressing, getting
ready.  A tall Uncia came back and shouted, “P’rose!  Ten minutes!”

“I’m ready, I’m ready!” she shouted back.  I retreated into a
black hallway that led to the stage, taking cover.  Out on stage, two
mels were assembling the gear the band would be using to play.  It
was nice to see that people still used unsynthesized electric
guitars, animal-skin drums and brass saxophones.  The fact that I
found that interesting shows just how out of the mainstream I am when
it comes to music.

The crowd outside was mostly youthful-looking, with a few people
showing that carriage that comes with maturity.  I estimated most of
her fans were less than fifty years old, and it showed in their dress
and the noise.  Oh, the noise!  Unbelievable!  P’rose was going to
try to play over *that*?

They came running by me, slowing only as they reached the edge
of the stage, walking out into the view of the audience calmly,
waving.  I admired that professionalism.

And then they began playing.  A wall of noise rolled over me as
the guitars began screaming and the bass drum began thudding.  The
beautiful Human girl with the saxophone was belting out high notes on
that thing so high they threatened to make my ears bleed.  But as I
stood there, watching them, my body began responding to the rhythm
all on its own.  SpanishGP Barcelona MassageI found myself bouncing back and forth, enjoying
myself.