“I…” Mark began, then swallowed hard, searching for words. “Tacita, I… I just wanted to see my daughter. Our daughter. I wanted to show you that I could, you know, be involved in the same stuff that interests you. I guess it got a little out of hand.”

“A little?” Tacita echoed, looking around at the people all around her, who were being rounded up and escorted out of the building by the police. “Mark, there damn near was a riot here. At least two people will need to go to the hospital because of their injuries. If you were trying to impress me, you’ve failed miserably.”

“He’s not the one who’s to blame, Tac,” Mae spoke up, frowning. She looked over at the heavily made up older woman and explained, “My cousin was the one who put the idea in his head. And she‘s the one who threw the first punch, so to speak. Kicked a chair out from under Julia.”

“Eleanor Rigby, you turncoat,” Taste of Honey growled.


“How could you not think this through? Did you want him to fail? Did you want people to get hurt?” Mae demanded, glaring at her cousin.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Taste of Honey stammered. “I… I was just tired of seeing him so down. He just wants to see his kid.”

“A kid he’s had nothing to do with so far,” Tacita interjected. “My daughter doesn’t know that man from Adam, and I’d like to keep it that way, if it’s all the same to him.”

“I…” Mark began. “I…” He shook his head, the words escaping him.

Taste of Honey glared at Tacita and Mae. “Come on,” she said to Mark. “We don’t need to deal with these people any longer.” She spat at Mae’s feet and snapped, “So long. As far as I’m concerned, I have no cousin.”

“I stopped properly acknowledging you as family after you tried to get one of my classmates violated by that guy,” Mae shot back.

“I didn’t make him do anything. But whatever. We’re leaving!” Taste of Honey yelled. She looked over at Mark, who was peering over at Delilah (who was trying to hide behind the curtains on the stage as well as she could) with a perplexed look on his face. “Leaving,” she repeated, grabbing his arm and dragging him away.

“Well, a fine day this turned out to be,” Mae muttered, kicking one of the chairs angrily.


Delilah shuddered a little and stared at the bottle in front of her. “Him… that man,” she whispered. “He knows me. He knew me from back then. Before I changed for the better. Before Gavin and the babies. Back when I was young and wild. If he’d said anything…” She shook her head. “No,” she reassured herself, but uncertainly, “you won’t lose your job. You’re good at what you do. Ophelia’s told you so plenty of times. And you don’t have those habits anymore. You’ve cleaned up.”

She tilted the bottle and poured the contents into the sink, then silently watched the liquid disappear down the drain. With a sigh, she wrapped the bottle in several layers of paper towels before depositing it into the garbage can.

“No one’s going to take away what I have,” she said aloud. “This is my life. I don’t belong to him anymore. No more tour buses and hotels and dealing with drunk or high band members.”


“Well, we really messed up this time,” Mark muttered, grinding out the remains of his cigarette.

“Cheer up,” Taste of Honey replied. “Maybe we can try something different.”

“I don’t think she’ll give me another shot. I think I’ve ruined all chances at getting to know my kid.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, do you really want to deal with Tacita on a regular basis, just to spend quality time with your kid? Is it really worth all that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I guess,” Mark responded uncertainly. He peered contemplatively at Taste of Honey for several seconds, then asked, “So, what is your real name?”

She sighed resignedly, then said, “Andromeda… but no one ever called me that. When I was younger, everyone just called me Andi”