I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the seat. Don't ask the rest of them, they'll all make you feel bad, because they don't pass out either. We were on our knees on the bed with Richard pressed to the front of me, and Jean-Claude against my back. These are my fans, Anita, and this is my job.
What happened? I asked. I debated on whether I could tell him to put out his cigarette in his own house, and if he'd do it if I asked. I'll drive, Graham said, just don't touch me while I'm behind the wheel. He looked up and was scared, and it showed.
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