I strolled into work ten minutes late, unusual for me because usually I'm more than punctual. I could decide what to wear, so finally I had chosen a maroon sweater, black pants and black shoes. Morose as it may sound, I was still mourning the death of John Bonham's death. John Bonham, the drumming powerhouse of my favorite group, Led Zeppelin, who had also suffered a "death" when "Bonzo" died. This still haunted me.

I had graduated that spring from high school, but I wasn't interested in going to college. Right away anyway, because I had no clue what I wanted to do. My parents gave me some money for rent of a Washington, D.C. apartment and suggested I find a job there. We were from the area but we lived out in the suburbs, and my mom said that living in the city might give me a different perspective in life. She'd grown up in the big city of Taipei, Taiwan, and so that was what her childhood was like.

I'd always been a music fiend - almost any kind. My brother had two guitars - a nice acoustic and a really lovely white Rickenbacker like George Harrison used to play when he was in the Beatles. Obviously, it didn't make sense for his younger sister to get the same guitars - he convinced me to get a bass instead, so we could jam. I was disappointed - I wanted to guitar plucking songbird, an '80s Joni Mitchell. But you don't argue when your brother pays for your Fender bass. Mine was cherry red finished and sounded amazing. Once I got the hang of playing bass of course. I took a while listening to Paul McCartney, Charles Mingus, John Paul Jones - but I got it eventually. Me and my brother spent many a night in high school experimenting, but mainly playing to Led Zeppelin records and trying to outdo each other. When my brother left to go to college on the West Coast, I was devastated. I was losing my jam partner. I had no one in this life left to exchange riffs with. About this time, I had found a job at Tower Records in D.C., and met my boss - Walt Green.

Walt Green, as it turns out, was a guitar fancier too. He was more than proficient, and even volunteered to sit in on local group gigs if a guitarist was ill. He always invited us employees to these gigs but usually I was the only one to actually attend. I was mocked by my co-workers for eating out of Walt's hand but I didn't care. He was a virtuoso. He was the one who knew I had promise one night when I 'd brought my beloved Fender to work because he had asked to see it, and we jammed a bit one night.

Walt was the one who'd suggested I'd work out nicely as a temporary replacement bass player. He frequently got frantic phone calls from various local groups for bass players, and since he himself didn't play bass, he decided he'd alert me to various gigs. I gained a whole lot of experience and a little extra spending money that way. Most of the time I was welcomed but there were still some guys stuck in the Stone Age - they didn't want to share the stage with some girl who "thought" she could play with the boys.

Walt was the kind of manager every kid dreams of - he was cool if you were late (but he could get cross if you did it too often and he started to notice), and he played music over the store speakers that young people actually listened to. It seemed that Walt was the perfect boss in every way.

Except for musical tastes. He didn't like the Fab Four or Led Zep. No, he said those bands were too contrived. Boring. Boring?!? That hurt. Jimmy Page was like my cousin if not like an honorary brother. Walt liked the new, trendier New Romantic music - stuff that sounded like David Bowie during his Ziggy Stardust phase, put into a blender, and mixed up with the Sex Pistols and Human League. I didn't get it. Besides, that fall I was still mourning the death of my Bonzo, who had left us on September 25th that year.

So when Walt called me into his office that day right before lunch, my antennae went up. I knew that I was a good store clerk - so I thought maybe some inter-office dish was going to come along. He sat me down and gave me a huge grin. Whatever it was, it was something that pleased Walt a great deal.

"I called you in my office today because I have something very important to talk to you about," Walt said, shutting the door to his office behind him. "I just got a call from England this morning."

"Oh? What about?" He knew I loved anything British. I was, after all, a die-hard Beatlemaniac and a follower of Led Zeppelin. "Something to do with Paul McCartney?" I asked hopefully, my fave Fab.

"No, actually about a new group from there," Walt continued. "They're from Birmingham - it's this group that has been heralded as Birmingham's answer to Spandau Ballet."

I groaned. Spandau Ballet? That "True" song really gets on my nerves! This was exactly up Walt's alley. He liked this weird new alternative-type music. "Spandau Ballet? Huh?"

Walt cleared his throat. "Now I know you aren't a big fan of that kind of music, but I heard some of their songs and I really think they're going to be big someday. The band's name is Duran Duran and they're a five-piece outfit, and I offered to help them do some promotion. They're supposed to be here next week doing a show at the Bayou, and I offered, and their managers were so nice about it. But it'll be a lot of work. That is, I can't do it all by myself so that's where you come in."

I nodded. "What do you want me to do, put up posters across town or something before they come?" I bit my nails. "Just tell me what you need done, Walt, and I'll do it."

"Actually, I offered to host an autograph signing in the store, and they have a growing fanbase, so I figured we were going to need more clerks in the store that day. So I figured that I'd ask you to be around next Thursday..." he trailed off.

"Thursday? But I already told you that I was taking that time off to visit my cousins in Los Angeles. Walt, please. You have got to be kidding me. What about Gina? Or Yolanda? Or Jim?" I tried naming other people who worked there so I wouldn't have to cancel my trip.

"As you know, Jim's wife is pregnant and due any day now. I couldn't ask him. What if Rita goes into labor and he isn't there. Gina's mom is sick in the hospital and she's practically living out of Suburban as it is. And Yolanda's been very nice to me lately and working whatever shift isn't being covered by Gina *or* Jim. That's not fair to them," Walt said evenly.

"So you can't be fair to me?" I complained. "Walt! I've planned this out for a long while." I sighed audibly.

"I know, Grace," Walt said regretfully. "But I wouldn't ask you if I didn't know you'd do a good job. You're my best employee. And this is going to be a big deal. I can feel it."

"Walt...you know I can't stand that kind of music. What makes you think I'm such a good choice?" I asked. "Gina *loves* Human League. You should be saving this job for her, not me."

"The simple reason is, you're more into the making of the music than she is. One of their managers, by the name of Berrows, indicated to me that their group is very into the making of the music - making the songs come alive," Walt explained, his eyes shining. "They have a very dynamic singer, and they've got a man on synth, two guitarists, and a very good drummer. I thought you might want to meet some Brits who could hold a candle to *your* bass-playing. Or so I thought."

"Hmmmm," I replied, thinking. "Really? You really think that highly of these guys?" I knew pretty soon that I wasn't going to have a choice. Walt gave me none.

He nodded, adding, "these guys are going to be the best thing since sliced bread."

Part 2
Duran Duran Writings by littlewillow