"I'm surprised you haven't heard of her before she hired you. I certainly have. She can sing her heart out. She had a record out locally about a year ago."

"Why didn't you say something when I told you about her?"

"It just hit me. The way your eyes lit up as you babbled on about her in great detail. I know it's the same Tammy Goodchild. It just had to hit me right. Now I remember."

"You remember anything else?" John asked, knowing he was guilty for rambling on about Tammy. He had to admit that he was instantly attracted to her.

"If I do you'll know about it first."

John nodded. "I can't believe I haven't heard of her. You sure we're talking about the same woman?"

"I'm sure. You just make sure you don't sexually harass her and scare away your only client," Brad said as he stepped over cables and worked around microphone stands on his way back to his keyboards.

John noticed the rest of the band coming in by way of a rear exit. Mutt was a tall black guy who could play the sax and the bass guitar like they were part of his anatomy. Craig came in behind him. He was the drummer. And like most drummers, he was half nuts. To add to the man's insanity, he aspired to be in law enforcement. He was always asking John questions and wanting to help out on cases in any way he could. John told him he'd put in a good word for him if he took the entrance exam for the beach police. John was proud of their struggling quartet and their inclining following. But just as his heart was filling with warm reflection, the realization hit him that Craig would probably think it was cool that he had been shot at.

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