She fixed me with her best authoritative stare.

"I haven't spent three years making you the best kept secret in pop for you to blow it all in some shitty Logan pub!"  she hissed.

"Shhhh..." I hushed her with a warning look "You might offend the staff."  It wasn't fair for her to be this funny.

"Like I give a rat's arse..." she muttered, lighting a cigarette in sharp, quick motions that betrayed her extreme agitation.

"Daniel, don't do this to me.  Look, I'm glad you've finally decided to embrace a more public persona, but baby this is the *wrong* way to do it.  Let's go to New York - LA - Sydney, fuck even Brisbane! Give me two weeks to publicise and I can guarantee you more media coverage than Pamela and Tommy Lee."  

I could see her eyes dancing at the thought, but she was preaching to the wrong audience.  I didn't want to do this.  The last thing I felt like doing was giving up my anonymity and having to deal with the press, but it was the only way.  The only way short of a miracle.

I took no joy in cutting her down.  Well, not much.

"Lynne, I'm doing my first public appearance *ever* as Savage.  I'm doing it here.  You can help me or not, it's your call. But if you don't help me, I'm just going to do it on my own."

She stood, simply seething for a few moments, while the finality of my words sunk in.  The moment it did she let out an explosive sound and stormed over to the bar, a stream of muttered obscenities spewing from her lips.  She ordered a scotch, neat, and threw it back like water.  I half-expected her to close her eyes and count to ten.  Finally she collected herself enough to return to my side.

"If I leave it up to you it'll be a letterbox drop and a sausage sizzle."

I gave her a wry half smile. "How'd you guess?"

She shot me a death stare and returned to taking inventory of the crumbling tavern.

"Getting this place to exude working class aussie charm is gonna be a challenge.  Even for me."  I could see her lip curl in distaste through the cloud of cigarette smoke.

I turned my gaze to the makeshift stage, sighting the lonely microphone that still stood unmoved, catching a glimmer of blue eyes, porcelain skin, red light caressing raven hair.

Lynne was eyeing me suspiciously. 

"You'd better not be doing all this for the sake of some doe-eyed blonde bimbette, Mr Meg Ryan."  I could hear the tone of warning in her voice.

Darren's eyes swept over me, seducing me with a smile.

"It's definitely nothing like that, Lynne.  Trust me."