In which the new band finds a new drummer and Diana finds more of what she doesn't need.

"The drummer's late," Birgit stated, snapping open her case for emphasis. The three women were in the garage of Amazon House amid a tangle of equipment and instruments, waiting for a man.

"Have you ever known a musician to be on time?" Diana asked.

"He's later than I am," Birgit corrected herself and got out her bass.

"So how is the tall bespectacled one, oh Lady Di?" Sarah asked as she tuned her guitar. Diana seemed to have a weakness for small guitar players. Sarah was smaller than Rick--but with energy to compensate for her size. She rarely left anywhere without leaving a big impression.

"He took off for the East Coast again," Diana replied. She did a few finger exercises while she waited for the other two musicians to persuade their instruments to conform to the norm.

"Miss him?" Sarah persisted, tucking a strand of her incredibly long brown hair behind one ear. She seemed made up half of hair, small as she was, a vibrant conductor of static energy.

"He only left a week ago. I haven't had time to yet. I'll let you know if I do."

"Not planning to, are you?" Birgit predicted. Finally satisfied with the result of her efforts, she turned from her electronic tuner to the other musicians and began to slap the strings of her bass in quick succession, throwing a lock of her blond hair out of her eyes with a movement distinctly reminiscent of Diana.

"No, not really," Diana admitted as she improvised on her keyboards.

"Then let up on the minor chords, Di. They're depressing."

"Quite the butterfly, our Di," Sarah observed. "Flitting from flower to flower."

"Maybe you should use that one in your next song?" Birgit suggested.

"Or should I say stem to stem?" Sarah continued thoughtfully.

Diana grimaced.

Birgit hit an "F."

A car drew up outside.

"The drummer!" the three women cried in unison.