As he had promised, within a few minutes we had pulled up outside a big house. He ushered me through the front door. “Don’t worry, there’s no-on... else home.” He reassured me, reading my mind. “Come with me.” I obediently followed him upstairs to what I assumed was a guest bedroom, complete with en-suite. “I expect you’d like a hot shower.” He guessed and disappeared, returning with a large fluffy towel and a bath robe. “Is this yours?” I asked somewhat stupidly, holding up the bathrobe. He. We got a cab and went to the place we were performing, called the Salle Pleyel, a concert hall that holds 1,900 people, 1,750 facing us and an additional 150, who would sit behind us up off the ground. There was a nice large dance area for us.We surprised Michael by showing up. He was busy, so we just puttered around for a bit walking around getting our bearings. Between numbers, I walked up and asked him what the people coming to our two performances here were paying to see us all, and he said. More

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