Maggie, for her part, hit every note perfectly.The song went on, before she finished it with an extended vibratio, looking at Mike with the same sweet...smile."Just call me the guitar witch, then." Maggie stated, close enough to the microphone that it echoed across the small backyard. The party had turned into nearly a concert, with more people paying attention to the stage than to each other.The remainder of the band was somewhat silent. Atypically, Catalina was not immediately jumping to her. Rose-Marie picked up a remote and pointed it at the huge television that dominated the living room. She flicked through the channels, most of which were beamed down by satellite. Inevitably most of the channels were in either English or Spanish. The French grip on the Americas was so very tenuous. Louisiana, Florida, Quebec, French Guiana and a handful of islands in the Caribbean. But better than nothing. She watched ten minutes of some pornographic film broadcast in French, bored by the sight. More

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