In November the Beefeaters got a new record deal. A real one this time, as David said, with a much bigger company called Columbia. Things were starting to happen, David said. They were gonna fly. To this extent the band had renamed themselves The Byrds. A hotshot young Columbia exec called Billy had taken them under his wing. Real neat guy, David said. Billy knew they were gonna be huge, said David.
This meant that the Byrds went into rehearsing overdrive and Juno saw next to nothing of David in the daytime. That actually turned out not to be as bad as expected. There were lots of other people at her house at all hours, and the nights still belonged to them, and the Troubadour.
Jackson warmed to Juno a little after she’d made sure the crate full of paintings ‘arrived’ when he was around. Joni had got sent home by her boss that morning, and Juno’d followed her in fascinated horror. Home for Joni was a dingy one-room apartment in a cold old redbrick in bad repair, where she clearly lived on her own. There was no doubt that the replicas of her works looked much better in a cool house on Santa Monica beach.