“The songs about you, do you mean?” asked Penny.
“Yes. Memories of Dust is a solo work.”
“Piffy said it was your favorite,” said Ruth.
“You did it just for me?”
They both nodded.
“That reminds me of a question I had. How come all the solo albums?”
“We write a lot of songs,” said Penny.
“I know. I understand Memories of Dust and Recompense. Both of those were recorded after you broke up, but what about the ones before 1970?”
“He really is a fan,” laughed Ruth.
“We all had too many songs to put just on Ladybugs albums, so we made our own too.”
“Yes, but why not just make them all Ladybugs albums?”
“You can’t put out six or seven Ladybugs albums a year.”
Penny stared at him for a minute. “Well, um… it’s… it’s all very complicated music industry stuff that you wouldn’t understand.”
“What are your plans after the show?” Penny quickly asked.
“Well, I know you like to eat afterwards, so I thought we could go for a steak. What do you think?”
“Shit yeah. Do you mind if we invite Ruth and Steffie?”
“No, of course not. What about Piffy?”
“She’s got business this evening… business business. I don’t know what exactly. They’re probably going to make an Ep!phanee doll. When you pull the string, it looks at itself in the mirror.”
“Not in front of the man,” admonished Ruth.
“What do you mean, not in front of the man?”
“We don’t make disparaging remarks about each other in front of you,” she explained.
“Are these rules written down somewhere?”
“Yes, but you’re not allowed to see them.”
“That’s one of the rules too,” said Penny, arching one eyebrow. Andrews couldn’t tell if they were being serious or not.