We found the band's manager, Max, a big wire-haired man with a cigar who looked past me at The Handyman and said, 'You sure about this one?' The Handy...an must have nodded, for Max rested his cigar on the edge of the table and pushed several sheets of paper towards me. 'Right-oh, sign here.''Er, what is it?' I asked.'Confidentiality agreement. The essence of it is, if word about this gets out to the press, or anybody at all, we get to rip out your tongue and castrate you.'I signed nervously. How. “I think I might like this,” Michelle sighed, snuggling close.“We hope so,” I replied. “We really hope so.”October 14, 1993, en route from Chicago, Illinois to Rochester, Minnesota“I appreciate the lift,” I grinned.“I figured that driving to Rochester from Chicago might be too much stress,” Samantha said. “Doctor Barton agreed.”“What is it with all of you girls?” I sighed.“Hey, you encouraged me to become friends with Kara, Elyse, Bethany, and Jennifer!” she laughed.“I did,” I laughed.. More

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