In which Diana is left at a loss for words for a change.


"Don't you have anything else more in a blues, jazz direction?" the adolescent drummer asked Diana.

"The only blues I've got is the one I already sang," Diana replied. Diana was in another room covered with egg cartons, this one in a local high school. She had been a little hesitant on the phone when she heard where the practice room was, but Gus, the keyboardist, had assured her the drummer was the only member under twenty. "My stuff is more mainstream."

"Well, how about something else then?" Gus asked.

Diana shrugged. "`God Bless the Child', maybe. No, wait, there's an old Janis Ian tune I used to do, if I can only remember how it goes. May I?" she asked Gus, and he relinquished the keyboards to her again.

"Janis Ian?" Chuck, the teenage drummer, repeated. The look Diana sent him could have withered scores of striplings, but Chuck was impervious.

"Chords?" the bass player asked. A true peacock with his magnificent mane of long blond curls, he would have fit much better in a heavy metal band.

"C7, F7 alternating, and then pretty standard blues chord progression," Diana explained, demonstrating on Gus's instrument. The musicians may have been a little too young for Diana's taste, but they caught on fast.

Diana's rendition of Ian's kinky tune had a more husky texture than standard blues, and she had a way of sliding off the notes that gave it almost a country twang. It was original, to say the least. "Good!" Gus said sincerely, patting her shoulder when she was done. She suffered the patronage in silence. She wasn't sure if she really wanted to join a band with a beardless drummer, but there was one thing to be said for them--they were good musicians. And she needed a band. Once Diana got it into her thick head that Reilly wasn't going to get along with her anymore, she stopped waiting for catastrophe to come to completion and started calling bands advertising for female vocalists. Diana didn't relish the prospect of sitting around with no musical outlet.

"Would you be willing to stay on with us, Di?" Gus asked.

Before Diana could answer, the guitar player interrupted. "Now, wait a minute, Gus. Don't you think we should discuss this together first?"

"I was just trying to find out how Di felt about us," Gus protested. "I thought she would fit in well here, but I wanted to see what she thought."

"Actually," the cute bass player said, "I was thinking of someone more like Chaka Khan."

Diana folded her arms in front of her. "And I was thinking of something more like Rufus."

"What I meant was, real blues in the voice," the bass player said.

"And I obviously don't have the right figure," Diana added, looking down at her slim form. Gus laughed uncomfortably.

"I was thinking of someone more like Suzy," the adolescent drummer contributed.

"Quatro?" Diana asked.

The drummer looked at her as if she had sprouted an extra head. "No. Suzy. Thompson."

"Uh huh." Probably the Most Popular Girl in School, Diana thought. "Do I have to listen to this?" she asked the egg cartons.

"Yeah, right," Gus stammered.

"I think I'll go and let you talk about my merits and failings in peace." She picked her black leather pack up off the floor and headed for the door.

"I'll call you," Gus said, making as if to follow her.

"Don't bother," Diana said. At the door she turned around. "You guys had better practice more if you want Chaka Khan. I bet you could get Suzy, though."


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