The beginning of the end.


Diana called Wes from the office to tell him what was going on and see if they could get a practice session organized as soon as possible--assuming he still wanted to participate under the present circumstances.

What on earth would she have in common with him besides music once they stopped sleeping together? Would there be any need to see him outside of the practice room? Perhaps a strike might even be an opportune thing, help her to clarify her situation. Here she was, sleeping with a youth six years her junior, wonderfully immature and wonderfully full of himself. So why was she sleeping with him? Because she liked sleeping with attractive men, that was why. Why else? Why him? Because he had a superficial resemblance to Adrian? Okay, so Wes looked like Adrian--how come Adrian didn't look like Geoff? Why hadn't he had short hair, round glasses and an earring in his ear?

Diana dialled the phone. "Manic Music, this is Wes, may I help you?"

"It's Diana. Hi."

"Hi, Di. To what do I owe the honor?"

"Two things. Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"Good. It will make the bad easier to digest."

"Then listen to this--if we can get an act together by the weekend, I've got a gig for us."

"Whoa! That's the good news?"

"We need to find a couple other bands too, though."

"I would say so. Hey, what's going on?"

"That's the bad news. We're going on strike."

"Your magazine?"

"No. We women."

"Either I'm being particularly dense today, or you're not being very clear. I still don't get it."

"The women of the city are organizing a protest against sexual violence including a strike in bed to emphasize the point."

Wes burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Diana asked.

"April 1st is tomorrow, Di, not today."

"I know that."

"Then are you just trying to dump me in a very roundabout, though original way, or is this true?"

"Come on. You must know me better than that. I'm hardly roundabout."

"Hm--I'm not so sure about that. It depends on whether you're thinking about what you're doing or not." Wes laughed again. "I can't believe it. It sounds like an absurd comedy."

Actually, it was more like a Greek comedy, but Diana was impressed anyway. She was surprised he even knew about absurd theater. Maybe she had underestimated him?

Diana began to chuckle. "You should have seen us last night, a house full of less than sober women, taking a vow to remain chaste!"

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Come over tonight to practice. And see if you can find some musicians who would be willing to take part in a spontaneous concert in the park on the weekend. No money--it's for charity. The local rape crisis center."

"You really are serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yup. I've got to organize this thing fast, though, if it's going to work. Can you think of anyone?"


"But no lemons, okay?"


"Okay, okay. One more thing."


"Stay out of my bed."

Wes laughed. "Now that certainly wasn't roundabout."

Diana hung up feeling more charitable towards her drummer than she had in a long time.