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Last call for Vodka

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She had told her parents it was only going to be one show, maybe two tops.  There was no way she could turn down the offer to cover The Regents, the hottest band of 1974 for Rolling Stone.

Her father had flipped, nearly disowning her on the spot but Tracy of all people, queen of all things hip and cool had pointed out what an honor it was.

Especially since Myka was only 17 and a senior in high school.


So she met the band in Albuquerque, got her sister tickets to the show in Denver and stayed on the bus as they headed to Lincoln.  On the way she’d gotten to know just about everyone. Artie, the band’s manager and his wife Vanessa the publicist.  Addy who was the tour manager and somehow knew where the best after parties were in every city.  Pete who played bass and wrote the songs was like the big brother she never had and his partner Amanda who kept the prankster in line. Wolly who played keyboards and the worst reputation but really was the nicest guy.  Steve the quiet and shy lead singer who never went out after a show.  Claudia, Steve’s best friend who wrote the lyrics and played guitar. 

“I like it,” she’d told Myka after reading a rough draft of the article she’d was working on.  “You’ve really got something special kid.”


But it was the others, the groupies, the techs and the fans who swirled around The Regents that Myka found the most fascinating.  HG Wells had been there since the start of the tour.  Not much older than Myka and from England, with jet black hair and a smile that made the young reporter feel things she’d never thought of before, that had captured her attention the most.

One of the other groupies had told Myka the The Regents were this year’s thing for HG.  Last year it had been Bowie and Ziggy Stardust, the year before it had been The Who and The Stones. 

“Guess she’s taking a break from the big ones,” the girl, Sally, had told her when then had pulled over at a rest stop just over the Colorado border.   “I mean, I like The Regents but they’re no Mick Jagger.”


“Wolly’s my cousin,” HG had told her after the show in Lincoln. Somehow they found themselves at a house party thrown by fans of the band.  In a rare break from his solitude, Steve had made them all go.  Myka could tell from Claudia’s body language that this was a mistake but they all went anyway.


“Yes,” HG smiled. They were sitting out back, just the two of them with their feet in the pool. “He moved to LA years ago. The Regents original piano man got drafted and the studio set him up on this tour. “

“It must be nice to be with family, especially out here.”  Myka thought there was no one from the Bering clan she could ever spend so much time with.

“In some ways,” HG smiled. Myka felt her stomach clench. There was that feeling again. “He actually wanted me to stay in LA, keep an eye on his place but,” she paused.

“You’re here.”

“I am,” HG glanced over at the house. “I suppose we should head in soon.”

“Not just yet,” Myka reached over and rested her hand on HG’s.

Dark eyes looked down at their hands for a moment before meeting Myka’s.

“Righty-ho then.”



“Myka darling, it’s time to go.”

“Five more minutes,” she grumbled, slowly pulling herself awake.

She realized rather quickly that her back was sore from an awkward sleeping position and that HG was holding her tightly.

“Sorry,” she mumbled and pulled back slowly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” the other woman smiled. “The bus will be arriving shortly and we need to collect everyone.”


Myka stood next to Artie on the lawn as the band and crew filed out of the house.  Pete and Amanda looked tired and surprisingly not hung over.

“He doesn’t drink,” Artie must have sensed her confusion. “Not anymore.”

Next came Addy and a few of the crew followed by some of the people who had hosted.  Claudia was next, followed by Wolcott and HG.

Last was Steve, followed by a handsome young man with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes.  The lead singer turned and kissed the other man passionately before heading towards the bus with a grin.

Myka’s jaw fell.


“You okay there Rolling Stone?” Claudia asked before she got on the bus. 

“Yeah,” Myka nodded. “I’m good.”

“Cool cause you know you can’t print that.”

“I know.”


Myka plopped down next to HG near the back of the bus. 

“Is it always like this?” she asked as they pulled away.

“Only when it’s good,” HG reached over and took her hand.

“I need to go home,” Myka sighed.  This should have been her last stop on the tour.

“You are home.” HG smiled and kissed her.