It was late in the afternoon when I was forced to get up and go to the toilet. I looked for Michael in the suite but guessed that he had to go see our guests off.I guzzled a bottle of water, took more of the tablets and crawled back into the bed feeling very sad and sorry for myself. I didn’t wake again until the next morning.I was feeling better but was surprised Michael wasn’t with me. I was ravenous and put on coffee and toast. I turned on the screen to the local news channel and sank into the lounge chair in a state of horror and shock.“Oh, Michael! Why? I told you he wasn’t worth it,” I sobbed.I heard the presenter say, “The suspected assailant, Michael Connor, has refused to name the woman that the victim, Brian Tyler, was reputed to have raped. Mr Conner’s informed the media that he didn’t want her name dragged through the mud by them.”“He is reported to have said that it was bad enough that she had been raped and lost their child as a result of Brian’s actions, she didn’t. He then quickly added, “But you best tuck your lip back in cause it might get in the way of playing your bass.”“You’re so funny,” Lisa deadpanned but gave Wilson a big toothy grin.Because Lynette wasn’t going to be on her Yamaha keyboards during Hell’s Bells, she simply programmed her keytar in a similar fashion to her main system, and brought that smaller instrument with us. When our wireless mics met with Wilson and Kimmy’s approval, we got set to record our first studio song, albeit in a ‘false live’ fashion.After double checking with everyone, Sammy hit the play button on the fire-engine red keytar lying in front of her central location. When the wicked gongs sounded through our ear monitors, I could sense the tension of playing in a recording studio fade away from my bandmates and me.As we played and Sammy sang the first verse of Hell’s Bells, Wilson’s voice came through our monitors, stopping our performance.“As much as I like seeing you guys are getting in the spirit of this.
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