When the time came, she went on anyway, in platform silver sandals and with an ankle the size of a melon. He took her to the emergency room after her second show. He and Melanie left without saying anything to her mother. They gave her a cortisone shot so she could go on again the next day. The last three days in Vegas were smaller shows. The opening concert had been the big one, and she was on crutches at the end of the weekend when he left.

“Take care of yourself, Melanie. You work too hard.” He looked worried. They'd had a nice weekend together, but she had been busy with rehearsals or doing a show most of the time. They managed to get to one of the casinos the first night. And Melanie's suite was fabulous. He stayed in her suite in the second bedroom, and they were very circumspect for the first two nights. And on the last night they had finally given in to nature's urges and all the strong emotions they felt for each other. They had waited long enough, and it felt right. She felt even closer to him now as he left. “You're going to wreck your ankle, if you don't slow down.”

“I'll get another cortisone shot tomorrow.” She was used to injuries onstage, they had happened before. She always went on no matter what happened to her. She had never canceled a show. She was a pro.

“Mellie, I want you to take care of yourself,” Tom said, genuinely concerned about her. “You can't just take cortisone like that. You're not on a football team.” He could see her ankle was painful and still swollen in spite of the shot the day before. All it had done was allow her to abuse herself and perform again, in high heels. “Get some rest tonight.” He knew she was leaving for Phoenix in the morning, to do another show.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling up at him. “Nobody ever worries about me the way you do. They just expect me to go onstage and perform, dead or alive. I knew that platform was wonky when I stepped on. The rope broke as I got off. That's how I fell.” They both knew that if it had broken earlier, she would have fallen a long way down, and might even have been killed. “I guess you've seen the flip side of show business now.” She stood close to him as they waited for his plane. She had taken him to the airport in the long white stretch limousine the hotel gave her for the duration of her stay. The perks in Vegas were fabulous. It wasn't going to be as comfortable when they hit the road. She had ten weeks ahead of her and wouldn't be back in L.A. till early September. Tom had promised to fly out and meet her over a few weekends. They were both looking forward to it.

“Make sure you see the doctor again before you leave.” They called his flight then, and he had to go. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, careful of the crutches she was resting on, and she was breathless when he let go. “I love you, Mellie,” he said softly. “Don't forget that while you're on the road.”

“I won't. I love you too.” They had been dating now for over a month. It wasn't long, and things had started to move quickly since they came to Vegas. But they had been through so much together in San Francisco that their romance had taken off at a rapid rate. He was the nicest man she'd ever known. “See you soon.”

“You bet!” He kissed her one last time, and was the last to board the plane. She hobbled back through the terminal then on her crutches, and crawled into the limousine at the curb. Her ankle was killing her, more than she had wanted to admit to Tom.

When she got back to her suite at the Paris, she put an ice pack on it, which hardly helped, and took some Motrin to bring the swelling down. Her mother found her lying on the couch in the living room at midnight, and Melanie admitted to her that the ankle really hurt.

“You've got to go on in Phoenix tomorrow,” her mother warned her. “They're sold out too. We'll get you another shot in the morning. You can't miss that show, Mel.”

“Maybe I can do it sitting down,” Melanie said as she touched it and winced.

“Your dress will look like shit if you do,” her mother commented. Melanie had never missed a single performance, and she didn't want her to start now. Rumors about that kind of thing spread like wildfire, and could destroy the reputation of a star. But her mother could see that she was really hurt. Melanie was always a good sport about injuries, and she never complained, but this one seemed more serious.

Tom called her before she went to sleep that night, and she lied and told him the ankle was better, so he wouldn't worry. He said he already missed her. She had a picture of him next to her bed when she fell asleep.

Her ankle was more swollen in the morning, and Pam took her to the hospital. The head ER doctor recognized her immediately and escorted her into a stall. He said he didn't like the look of it and wanted another X-ray. When she had hurt it, the medics who saw her the first time had said that it was just a bad sprain. The head of the emergency room wasn't convinced. And he was right. When he checked the X-ray, he showed her a hairline crack. He said she had to wear a hard cast for the next four weeks, and try to stay off it as much as she could.

“Yeah. Right,” she laughed, and then groaned. It hurt every time she moved. The performance was going to be agony that night, if she could even do it. “I'm playing to a packed house in Phoenix at eight o'clock,” she explained. “And I still have to get there. They didn't pay to watch me hobble onstage in a cast,” she said, as she almost cried moving it.

“What about a boot?” the ER doctor suggested. He treated a lot of performers, some of whom had fallen offstage or worse. “You can take it off when you go on. But don't even think of wearing platforms or high heels.” He knew the breed well, and she looked guilty the minute he said it.

“My costumes will look like shit with combat boots,” she said.

“You'll look worse in a wheelchair if it gets any more swollen. The boot ought to do it. Just wear flats when you perform. And you gotta use the crutches,” he informed her. She had no other choice. The ankle was excruciatingly painful, and she couldn't put any weight on it at all.

“Okay, I'll try the boot,” she conceded. It went up to her knee, was made of a shiny black plastic material, and had Velcro straps to hold her leg in. And as soon as she stood on it, it gave her considerable relief. She hobbled out of the emergency room in the boot, with the crutches, while Pam paid the bill.

“Looks cute,” Janet said jauntily, as she helped Melanie into the limousine. They had just enough time to pick up their bags, meet the others, and head to the airport for their flight to Phoenix. Melanie knew it would be crazy from now on. Their concert tour had begun, and she'd be all over the States for the next ten weeks.

She put her leg up on a pillow in their chartered plane. The band played liar's dice and poker, and Janet joined them. She glanced over at her daughter a couple of times and tried to make her more comfortable. In the end, Melanie took a couple of pain pills and went to sleep. Pam woke her up when they got to Phoenix and one of the guys from the band carried her down the stairs. She was looking sleepy and a little pale.

“You okay?” Janet asked her as they got into another limousine, a white one again. They would have hotel suites and limousines waiting for them in every city where they went.

“I'm fine, Mom,” Melanie reassured her, and when they got to their hotel rooms, Pam ordered lunch for all of them, while Melanie called Tom. “We're here,” she said, trying to sound livelier than she was. She was still groggy from the pain pills, but the boot helped when she walked. She could hardly move without the crutches.

“How's your ankle?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“I've still got it. They put me in some kind of a removable cast thing in Vegas before we left. I look like a cross between Darth Vader and Frankenstein. But it actually helps. I can take it off when I'm onstage.”

“Is that smart?” Tom asked, sounding like the voice of reason.

“I'll be fine.” She had no other choice. She did what the doctor had suggested and wore flats that night. They had taken the rising platform out of the show because she was afraid of falling and getting hurt again. She always said she felt like the Flying Wallendas when she used it, and said she should have a net. She had fallen off it twice before, but this was the first time she had actually gotten injured. It hurt, but it could have been worse.

She hobbled onto the stage with her crutches that night and laid them down. They had given her a tall chair to sit on, and she joked about it with the crowd. She said she'd done it having sex, which they thought was funny. And the audience forgot about it as soon as she started her show. She sat down on stage for most of the performance that night, but no one seemed to mind. She had worn hot pants, fishnet stockings, and a red-sequined bra. And even in flat shoes, she looked hot. She kept the encores short that night. She was dying to get back to her room and take another pill. She went right to sleep after she did, even before she called Tom to tell him how the show went. He had told her he was going to L.A. for dinner with his sister, and didn't call her either. But normally, they talked to each other all the time on their cell phones.

They spent two days in Phoenix, and from there they flew to Dallas and Fort Worth. They did two shows in each city, one in Austin, and another at the Astrodome in Houston. She was religiously wearing the boot while she was offstage, and her foot was better. They finally got two days off in Oklahoma City, which was sheer heaven. They were flying all over the country, and she was working hard. Performing with an injury was just one of the challenges she had to face while doing concerts. One of the roadies had broken an arm, and their sound man slipped a disk, carrying heavy equipment. But whatever happened, they all knew the show had to go on. It wasn't an easy life when they were on the road. The hours were exhausting, the performances were tough, and their hotel rooms were dreary. Whenever possible, they got suites. They got stretch limousines at every airport, but there was nowhere to go in them, except between the concert hall and hotel. In a lot of cities, they played in stadiums. It was all part of life as they made their way from city to city. After a while, all the places they went looked the same and they forgot where they were.