When Geo used to sing with Doug’s band, girls would line up after their shows, waiting for a chance to touch him or talk with him, or try to slip him their numbers. Larry always had to laugh at the way Geo ignored the fans, hurrying past the crowds on his way to the van as if it were more important to put up their instruments than mingle. Someone else might’ve been jealous by all the attention Geoff got—and Larry knew Doug sure was—but Larry didn’t mind. Look all you want, ladies, he thought at the time, because he’s going home with me.
He didn’t know what to expect after Geo’s show, if there would be throngs of teenage girls clogging Richmond’s darkened streets, lingering outside the Coliseum or hanging around the hotel in the hopes of catching a glimpse of their favorite rock star. Mayb
