December 3rd, 1971

     “How far did you say his house is?” I asked Cameron, just as he flagged a taxi for us. We were on the last part of our trip to the house of James Wyle, Cameron’s old bandmate and friend.
    “Fifteen-odd miles,” was the answer, and Cameron held the door open for me to get into the taxi first. We’d gotten off at Dalmeny station after getting on a train in Aberdeen over two hours ago, but a car was needed for the rest of the way.
    Cameron sat beside me and told the driver our destination; I could feel his excitement. He and James had spoken over the phone a few times since we’d returned from the tour, and more than once the calls had lasted well over an hour. Now that we were less than thirty minutes from their reunion, Cameron was nearly vibrating with anticipation.
    Throughout the last week, I’d been asking him about his friendship with James and learned more about Seven by Eight. The band hadn’t lasted long— only boasting three years of gigs before disbanding in 1964— but still managed to collect an eager albeit small audience with their “soulful mod and pop mix, with a jazz element.”
    It was with Seven by Eight that Cameron had his first taste of being a steady performer, as he’d only done a few shows with another group beforehand and hadn’t been very confident. The five-piece performed mostly in small clubs and cafe halls where live music was permitted, and they’d put out two albums before the guitar player proved to be much less reliable than desired. He quit with a disruptive fuss, prompting the bass player and drummer to do much the same.
    The driver informed us that we’d be at the address within five minutes. Cameron thanked him, but I could see the eagerness he was trying to hide.
    “You’re excited,” I noted with a smile. Cameron nodded, and I took his hand in mine. “I’m sure he’s pacing the hallways,” I added, referring to James.
    “I wonder how different he’ll look,” Cameron said quietly. “I certainly look different than I did five years ago.”
    “I bet he’ll have a huge beard,” I joked. “He’ll be wearing a v-neck but we won’t be able to tell because of how long the beard is.”
    Cameron laughed, then gave me a quick kiss on my cheek. “Levity helps,” he smiled.
    “Oh,” I added, having thought of another joke. “Maybe he hasn’t cut his hair since he moved, and it’s down to his knees.”
    The taxi pulled to a stop soon after; we paid the fare and stood on the sidewalk for a moment. Cameron was thinking, but I knew that too much time to think would only make his nerves worse.
    “Come on,” I urged, taking his hand and bringing him up the path to James’ front door.
    “Should I knock, you think?” he mumbled. “Or ring?”
    I pressed the doorbell without replying, and smiled reassuringly at him. He was fretting over nothing, which was immediately proven when the front door swung open and James appeared.
    "Cameron! It's so good to see you," James exclaimed as he pulled Cameron into a hug.
    "Same to you, James. It's been a while." Cameron was smiling gleefully and I couldn't help but mirror his expression.
    James let go of Cameron but kept his arms open as he turned towards me. I accepted his hug and thanked him for the invitation. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, Emily."


    James had proudly given us the grand tour of his home, with the sitting room liquor cabinet being our final stop. It had taken all of five minutes for Cameron to completely forget about his insecurity and fall back into their interrupted friendship.
    “Do you recall when we bought this?” James pulled a liquor bottle from the back of the shelf as he addressed his question to Cameron.
    Taking the bottle and inspecting it, Cameron let out a laugh. “You’ve still got this?” he asked in surprise. “We bought this for our first gig. Seven by Eight at the Knave Cafe.”
    I took the bottle from Cameron, reading the label in amusement. Unsurprisingly it was whisky, a single malt from the Isles.
    James smiled wickedly. “How about we crack her open?”
    “What’s the occasion?”
    “What’s the occasion,” James repeated mockingly. “Do we really need one to enjoy a twenty year that’s been sealed for an extra ten?”
    I couldn’t help but smile at the exchange, and offered an occasion to celebrate. “There is the launch of the live album tonight. It’s as good a reason as any.” I handed the bottle to James, who cracked the seal without hesitation.
    As he poured, James asked more about the live album. We told him it had been recorded two months ago during Amoeba's two nights at the California Rock Cannon festival.
    "Music," he began, handing us each a glass. "Where would we be without it?"
    "To music," Cameron declared as he lifted his drink in toast.
    I raised my own and smiled. "And the friends we make along the way."
    The three of us cheered and drank; even I had to admit the whiskey's fine taste. We migrated to the sofa at the far end of the room, just as James sat down in the adjacent armchair and launched into his questions.
    He asked about the tour and how the audience had received the band, saying he'd listened to the album and had quite enjoyed it. Cameron regaled him with stories of the tour in North America and proudly boasted of the ravenous audiences we'd encountered in nearly every town.
    "The last show was in Montreal, where Emily's from," Cameron informed him. "We decided to stay an extra week to visit with her sister, since we'll be touring in Europe until spring."
    "You're a Canadian? What on Earth made you move here?" James teased.
    "Don't ask me," I shrugged, though I winked at him as I took a sip from my glass.
    James laughed, his body shaking with amusement. "I like her," he announced to Cameron, before turning back to me. "You've been with them for the whole tour, then?"
    I nodded. "Last year's, too."
    "Tough girl." James sipped his drink, but his eyes widened in realization as he swallowed. "You've been able to handle seeing Willie every day?" he asked in surprise. "I wouldn't think he's gotten any easier to live with on the road."
    “He hasn’t, really. Though Emily’s fully capable of handling him.” Cameron winked at me and I smiled, though I wondered how James knew what Willie was like while touring.
    “How is that Monkey Man doing, anyway?”
    ‘Who the fuck is Monkey Man?’ I wondered silently.
    “He’s much the same,” Cameron replied to James. “Change comes slowly to Willie, you know that.”
    I hid my surprise behind my glass by taking another sip of whisky. It would be hard to look Willie in the face with the knowledge that James called him Monkey Man.
    Cameron had continued speaking, clearly not noticing the barely-hidden smile on my face. “He’ll be at the launch tonight. You’re welcome to join us, James.”
    “I couldn’t impose, Cameron,” he resisted.
    Cameron let out a huff. “You wouldn’t be. I’m in the fucking band, James. I can bring guests to my own event.”
    “Oh, alright then.” James relented, though he hadn’t put up much of a fight in the first place. “Where’s this launch party?”
    “At the little club near Glenogle Road in Edinburgh,” Cameron informed. “The Extended Play, if you remember it? There’s a conference with some journalists at eight o’clock, but we’ve rented the building for the night so we’ll be putting on a warm-up show afterwards.”
    I let the conversation continue between the two men and retreated into my thoughts. Cameron had described James to me before we’d come to visit, but it was still a surprise that he was the same height as me. I was only five feet and a half feet tall, and even my sister was taller than me, so I’d wrongly assumed that James would be as well. I could tell that he was adept at commanding a room and I wondered what it would have been like to see a Seven by Eight gig, let alone a backstage party— with light green eyes and blond curls, James wasn’t a chore to look at.
    As the hours ticked by, James and Cameron recounted stories from the life of their band. Some— like one Dutch gig that ended so badly, they needed to use false names for the next one— Cameron had already told me, but most were new to me. During a retelling of a night spent in a Romford hostel, the mention of Willie caught my attention.
    “Willie was with you guys?” I asked in surprise.
    “We had an extremely unreliable guitar player,” James explained. “We’d hired him for his skill but once we got on the road, he seemed to be more skilled at disappearing.”
    Cameron continued, “Willie was his technician, but ended up playing more shows than he did. I don’t even remember his name anymore.”
    “Willie’s never mentioned it,” I mumbled.
    “He wouldn’t have,” Cameron spoke. “He wasn’t credited on anything, and was only paid a guitar tech’s wage.”
    James laughed then, and tilted his head in thought. “I think he’d rather be remembered for causing a ruckus than for being a replacement.”
    “What about being remembered as Monkey Man?” I joked. “That would be worse, no?”
    “Depends who you ask,” James admitted. “Camera Tonks and I haven’t got the best names in the business, either!”


    It was only when six o’clock came and went that I managed to learn James’ own nickname. He stubbornly refused to tell me, citing ‘loss and damage to personal reputation’ if he told me. Luckily, Cameron whispered it into my ear as we got into the Edinburgh-bound taxi: Jimmy Barbecue. I held back my laughter and decided to tuck away that information for future use.
    It was just before seven o’clock when we arrived at The Extended Play. Cameron was immediately whisked off by Geoff, who had business to discuss with him, which left James and I free to mingle.
    I decided to tour the place, and found the main hall set up as a large conference room, where a dozen journalists were already gathered for the upcoming press release. The back portion of the building, however, was clearly meant for concerts. The walls were soundproofed and the room was empty, save for a low stage at the front and an alcohol stand at the opposite end.
    Though I’d lost track of James during my exploration, I found him chatting with Lee and Colin, each of them with a drink in their hand.
    “I see you’ve met the delinquents,” I noted jokingly. I took the beer from Lee’s hand and gulped it, handing it back noticeably lighter.
    “I did,” James confirmed. “Nice to see Dale as well. I knew him briefly years ago,” he explained.
    “Only Willie left, then?”
    James nodded as he drank, but Lee spoke first. “Speak of the devil, and there he is.”
    Willie walked into view, having just exited one of the hallway doors farthest from us. He didn’t seem to notice the four of us staring at him, but we certainly noticed the smiling woman who followed him out of the door.
    “Glad to know Autumn won’t be here tonight,” Lee muttered under his breath.
    Excited with the promise of gossip, James leaned in close. “Who’s Autumn?”
    “My best friend.”
    “And that isn’t her?”
    Colin shook his head and replied scathingly. “No.”
    I turned my attention away from their exchange and caught sight of Cameron as he intercepted Willie. They spoke for a brief moment, until Willie nodded and they made their way over to us.
    “I didn’t think Scotland would allow you back into the country,” Willie announced in greeting. “You being a detriment to society, and all.”
    “Oh, lighten up!” James grabbed Willie and hugged him in a brief but tight embrace. “It’s good to see you again!”
    Cameron chuckled beside me, and I turned to him. He looked amused and I was glad to see him enjoying an old friendship. Without speaking, he took my hand and led me away from the others.
    “What is it?” I asked quietly.
    “Just follow me.” Cameron continued down the hallway and opened the door leading to the soundproofed section and beckoning me to enter. “Geoff’s news was interesting,” he began once the door closed behind us.
    “What’s the news?”
    “Geoff’s hired a former colleague of his to be our tour manager,” Cameron explained. “I’ve just met him, his name’s Harry. Nice man, and it’ll be helpful to have someone else taking care of the logistics.”
    “Sounds reasonable. He’ll be along the entire tour?”
    “Yes. We’ll be doing shows until mid-April. All the usual stops,” Cameron assured me. “Though it seems we’ve garnered quite the following in Scandinavia, so we’ll likely be there later in the winter.”
    “Wow,” I breathed. “That’s wonderful, Cameron!”
    Cameron smiled widely. “Would you like to know where we’ll be spending Christmas?” he teased.
    “Promise me there won’t be snow drifts,” I begged dramatically.
    “I wouldn’t worry. I haven’t heard of Spanish snowstorms lately.”
    “Spain!” I repeated in surprise. Cameron nodded, and I kissed him happily. “That’ll be quite the Christmas!”


    The press conference started at eight, as scheduled. The five-man Amoeba, along with Geoff and newest addition Harry, were seated on one side of a long table on an elevated stage. I hadn’t felt it urgent to speak with Harry, but changed my mind when I heard him speak, answering questions and giving information to the journalists facing them.
    The intention had been to create excitement for tomorrow’s release of Lion Rampant in America, but it seemed that radio advertisements had already done a good job of it. The questions were more focused on the upcoming European shows, rather than the live album recorded during the previous leg of the tour, though it didn’t seem to be a detriment.
    “Newcastle next Friday, that’s correct,” Harry replied to a reporter. “After that first concert, there’ll be a week of English dates finishing off in London.”
    Dale leaned closer to his microphone. “We’re all very excited to get on the road and get off in front of all you.” He didn’t seem to realize his phrasing was off, but Lee’s laughing snort clued him in.
    Geoff stood abruptly and declared the conference over, making a signal for the microphones to be shut off. Lucky thing, because I could see Dale looking devious and giggling at his own jokes.
    The next twenty minutes were chaotic, and I didn’t have a chance to do anything other than grab a drink for myself. The journalists had been invited to stick around for the warm-up show, though only a small portion did and even less seemed to be actively enjoying the performance. Shameful really, since Amoeba looked thrilled to be on that stage— even if only for a five-song set.
    I crossed paths with Harry during the fourth song, much to my excitement. I’d just come out of the washroom at the far end of the hallway, and saw him heading my way.
    “You must be Mr. Dennel,” I said, extending my hand to shake his. “It’s nice to meet you.”
    “Likewise,” he replied. His voice confirmed my earlier suspicion, and I grinned as I introduced myself to him. “Cameron mentioned you earlier.”
    “I’m sure he did! That man’s got a big mouth when he wants one,” I joked, and Harry joined me in laughing. “Might I ask you something?”
    Harry leaned back against the wall and nodded. “Of course.”
    “How much practice did it take to cover your accent so well?”
    He frowned momentarily, though seemed amused that I’d noticed. “Was it obvious?”
    I shook my head. “No.”
    “I worked with Geoff years ago, I’m sure he told you? Not many people took me seriously, with a thick French accent and a name they couldn’t pronounce,” he admitted.
    “I did wonder about the name. Though I might have believed Henri,” I said with a chuckle, before switching to French. “What name were you given?”
    “You’re French as well?” Harry was obviously surprised, but nodded in understanding when I mentioned Montreal. “I’ve always wanted to see the winters there.”
    “No, you don’t!” I assured him. “It isn’t as fun as it seems, and I’m sure you’ll enjoy Spain better.”
    “I suppose we’ll find out in a few weeks, no?” Harry excused himself for ending the conversation, but stressed his need for the bathroom. “I’ll be seeing you soon, though,” he added.
    I smiled. “Looking forward to it.” I turned and began to head towards a door to my left, but Harry called over to me. “Yeah?”
    “My mother named me Télesphore.” He gave me a two-fingered salute and disappeared behind the bathroom door before I could say anything else.
    I smiled, though I stood alone in the hallway. There was no way to know what this tour would throw at us, but I took a moment and prayed that we’d all come out the other end safe and sound.