As much as I was becoming obsessed with the woman whose life I was living, I became immersed in the nearly fulltime job of being the public face of Katherine Keller.

One of the highlights of our European tour was a hastily improvised performance after a chance meeting with a principal of the Vienna Light Orchestra, a group of serious classical musicians who do 'popular music' in an orchestral tradition to introduce general audiences to the experience of classical music.

They'll do Coldplay and Amy Winehouse and music from current hit films, TV and musical theater and slip in a little light opera and baroque to expose their audience to a range of great music spanning centuries and hopefully broaden their musical palette to maybe get a little more of that 'classical' music.

Well, a group of us got to talking with the associate conductor at the meet and greet after our Salzburg screening, and he was gushing about how much he loved the film and how he would love to do a suite of music from the film. We were so taken with his enthusiasm, one thing led to another and we practically volunteered to do the 'Thornbirds Live' with him if he could get the orchestra's O.K.

Long story short, we had a meeting with the board ...actually, it felt more like an audition, but it was really that we were so enthusiastic that we were pitching ideas and demonstrating them by impromptu performance, kind of putting together the program as we went.

The enthusiasm was contagious, and pretty soon, they were pitching ideas to US!

In the end, it wasn't entirely Thornbirds, but lots of other film and stage musical numbers as well, thrown in to make a narrative that was a delirious mashup of Cabaret, Sound of Music, Rocky Horror, and Company! It was a tremendous amount of work and an unimaginable amount of fun.

Eoin, as well as Colleen McLagan, Cyril Whitestone and a number of 'serious' musical theater veterans Dez had lured to Hollywood to collect a big paycheck by being in his extravaganza, really surprised me by being quite willing to lovingly lampoon their film roles and poke gentle fun at their other body of serious stage work.

It was a shock to the audience, who quickly got into the spirit of fun. To say the response was enthusiastic was an understatement. I doubt the esteemed venue where the light orchestra played had ever hosted such a boisterous audience, or such a bawdy band of performers! Eoin even ad-libbed a few one liners from the Marx Brothers' 'A Night at the Opera' to absolute howls from the captivated crowd.

This was a one-time performance done on a whim and a prayer by the increasingly playful cast. As we traveled the continent on our 'press junket' we really did bond into a little family. We shared the same road weariness and slightly punchy sense of humour a whirlwind tour engenders. Our Vienna stage experience brought us all closer, and I'm certain, will be among everyone's most cherished memory of our European tour.

The lowest point in the tour came almost immediately after. We were in Stockholm when Mikey searched me down.

“I think we have a problem.”

I furrowed my brow. I had no idea what he could be talking about, but my mind immediately groped for possible 'problems'.

“Kathrine?”

He shook his head. “Worse. Kevin.”

I stared blankly.

“Uncle Kevin?”

“Oh, shit.”

“You got that right ….Katherine.” Mikey scowled.

Fortunately for Mikey, Kevin was no blood of his. We were related through my mother, where Kevin was my dad's older brother and the notorious 'black sheep' of the family. Mikey had met him at our house and privately expressed his condolences to me that I was his nephew. Kevin had left home when he was 17 and went on the road following his favorite football team. He eventually ended up in Europe where he learned from the rowdiest hooligans how to show his allegiance to his team, and hooked up with various people who somehow provided him with a means to survive. None of us knew how he made a living. None of us really wanted to. Even my dad was uncharacteristically quiet when it came to 'uncle Kevin'. He was the relative no one talked about.

And now, he'd hunted us down. And talked with Mikey.

“He wants to see us. Seems he found out through your dad that we were traveling with the Thornbirds press tour, and he wants to get together. To 'see blood' he said.”

I snorted. “Of course he wants to see blood. He always wants to see blood. My dad told me stories.”

“Well, it seems like he wanted to see family. ....To see blood.”

“Yeah.” I snorted. “Leave it to Kevin to phrase it such a way that it could be taken two ways – and was probably meant both!”

“So, what are we going to do cuz? I don't think I can put him off. And, let's face it. You're not exactly the nephew he remembers.”

Dennis, God bless him, outdid himself. While I marvel recalling what he did to turn me into a passable Katherine Keller that night before the world premiere, I am in complete AWE at the extremes he went to to make me a passable L.C McGuiness after months of 24/7 Katherine-ness.

It still wasn't totally convincing, but we counted on the fact that 'Uncle Kevin' would be half-pissed when he met me, and wouldn't notice the ….discrepancies.

It was so bizarre …. taking shavings from my legs and pits and spirit-gumming them to my cheeks to resemble stubble... I hadn't realized how much slimmer I had become eating Katherine's healthy diet and actually following the direction of her personal trainer (which Dennis assured me, she did NOT). I felt great, but I was far thinner, and ...I must concede... far more ...feminine... than even the gaunt, gangly L.C. uncle Kevin remembered.

Dennis, once appraised of my dilemma, called on his network of friends in Hollywood special effects for a 'muscle chest' like those halloween superhero costumes but much more professionally done, worn under a sweatshirt to at least make me appear somewhat macho for uncle Kevin. He even wrangled some 'gloves and sleeves' made by the guys who did Tom Cruises' Les Grossman makeup in Tropic Thunder. I hadn't seen the movie, but he showed me some jpegs. I began to think this actually might work.. and best of all, since I would be wearing hairy, stubby silicone 'gloves' I didn't have to even try to do anything with my slender manicured fingers... not that I think any other approach would have worked. I was still gaunt, but I was always wiry, so I figured he'd ignore that.

I was surprised at how hard I had to work to not appear ….'femmy'... being Katherine came shockingly easy to me. I just put myself in the mindset, felt the clothing on my frame, the aroma of the cologne or even shampoo and skin products in my nostrils and everything flowed from there. There was surprisingly little conscious thought involved. I just 'clicked in' to Katherine-mode and everything seemed to flow naturally. Getting BACK to 'native (L.C.) mode' proved unexpectedly daunting.

The day arrived, and I headed off to meet uncle Kevin at the Brass Whistle – an 'English Style' pub in Antwerp. I really did feel like an imposter. The pungent 'guy' body spray felt like an assault on my nostrils, and even Mikey admitted, was more than L.C. would have used. As were the rather funky ...ok, rancid/sweaty Steelers sweatshirt, cargoes and positively ratty sneakers. I felt more like I was masquerading as uncle Kevin than L.C. But Mikey insisted – and Dennis agreed, if half of what we said about Kevin was true, it was much better to over-play things than to under-play. So, off I went with Mikey and Dennis – who insisted on meeting uncle Kevin and tagged along to the Brass Whistle. I felt like an extra from a Guy Ritchie film... and more than a little anxious. I found myself thinking that I really could use one of Dr Dale's 'mellow focus' shots right about now.

When we got to the Brass Whistle, it wasn't hard to find Uncle Kevin. We just listened for the commotion.

“Aw, C'mon luv.... you and yer friends came here for a taste of England... I'll give you a taste of England yerl never forget!”

I have to give her credit.... she kept her cool in spite of the full Kevin assault.

“What is it you English say?..... 'sod off'?” She said with what sounded like a scandinavian lilt and smiled coyly. Her friends all giggled.

“Ahhh piss off, you stuck up twat. I was just being neighborly.” Then his eye got that lewd gleam I knew so well. “Your loss. Coulda had some real bangers and mash!” he yelled after them, punctuating it with an obscene thrust.

“Uncle Kevin, I presume?” Dennis whispered to me. I just scowled and nodded slightly.

He turned back to the bar and bellowed.... “Oi!! ...EMPTY...." and started pounding his mug on the bar.

It may have been an 'English-style' pub, but the Belgian staff seemed at a loss on how to handle Kevin. I knew if this was a real English pub, he'd likely be dusting the street off his arse as he cursed and walked away. Maybe that's why he was hanging out in Belgium.

Mikey & I exchanged anxious looks and walked up to the bar. I sidled up to his right while Mikey took his left. Apparently this was not a wise move. He reflexively tensed and I saw his hands ball up into fists. I guess he was used to being surrounded. I hoped I could act fast enough.

“Hi!” I said as friendly and non-threatening as I could, and plastered a big smile on my face.

His hands quickly relaxed, and as he squinted, a stupid grin broke onto his face. I think I avoided being sucker-punched.

“'Ello there!” he leered. I'm not sure if he was putting on a cartoon-English accent for the Belgians or whether he had just been hanging with his hooligan friends so long, he picked up an affectation.

His leer faded as he squinted to get a good look at me. I don't know whether it was the dim light or whether he was really pissed, but he seemed to keep trying to focus his eyes, cocking his head like a confused animal and searching my face, and then, really uncomfortably scanning me toes to top. I was beginning to doubt he was going to figure it out on his own, whether it was the alcohol or just because he was Kevin....

“Hey uncle Kevin.... Been quite a while, eh?”

He squinted some more and I could see the rusty wheels turning. I think he finally figured it out when he jerked back and yelled “fuck ME!”

I half expected the entire pub to yell, “for the LAST time, NO!” which made me smirk. I quickly bit my lip, and said quietly “I don't think that's happening tonight... for either of us.”

“Jesus fuck! LC? Fuck boy. I thought you.....” then I think he realized what he was about to say, and how that would make both of us look, and thought better of it.

“Been a few years” I forced a smile.

“Fuck yeah. Stand up straight boy.”

I complied.

“Jesus fuck you're tall. You always were a spindly little shit... but ...christ.”

I kind of figured out by now that the bulk of his vocabulary involved taking the lord's name in vain.

“Yeah... well... had a growth spurt since you last saw me.”

“Fuck yeah. Well, not so much grew... looks like you just stretched out. What the christ are you... nine stone?” with that he lunged, wrapped his arms around the bottom of my ribcage and yanked me off my feet.

“Hey!” I didn't have to fake being startled. He was fast. Something told me the rest of this move usually involved flinging the subject spine-first into a bar or snooker table.

He put me down. “Jesus fuck boy. Don't anyone fucking feed you?”

I dusted myself off and tried to get back on the rails. “Uncle Kevin” I smiled and shook my head. “Most folks would just shake hands.”

“Well, I ain't 'most folks'” he crowed, uttering the phrase 'most folks' with the disdain others would save for the rest of his vocabulary. “And you is BLOOD. Eh?”

I nodded and hoped I was successfully hiding my discomfort.

“OK then.... You remember my cousin Michael?”

Kevin turned to his left as Mikey smiled apprehensively and nodded slightly. Kevin grabbed him by the shoulders and twisted him from side to side looking him over. Then he gave him a hard punch in the shoulder which I think was intended as a playful tap, but Mikey's wince reminded me how rough Kevin played.

“Oi! Good to see there's some men in the family, if only on yer mum's side.” He shot me a leer I couldn't ...or didn't want to... read.

“And who's yer little black friend here? This yer boyfriend?”

Dennis' eyebrow shot up and I knew he was about to say 'Excuse ME?' I warned him to be ready for anything, and I'm sure he thought he was... but the actual Kevin experience always exceeds expectations.

“This is our friend and coworker.... Dennis Graniere... Katherine Keller's P.A.” I quickly interjected.

“Her ….PA?...” he loudly whispered. “How old IS he? I didn't know she was bla...”

Dennis began to laugh, thinking uncle Kevin was making a joke. He really didn't know Kevin.

“Personal Assistant.... P.....A.....” I explained.

“Oh. Din't think she was black.” he studied Dennis through his rheumy eyes. “Yeah. Din't think he was old enough”

“....thank you?...” Dennis replied, clearly unsure what to make of uncle Kevin. Behind Kevin we could see Mikey grinning... as if to say 'See? We tried to tell you but you had to see it yourself.'

Again I tried to steer the conversation back onto the rails.

“So, uncle Kevin.... What brings you to Antwerp?”

“Ehhhh..... just time to ...stretch me legs.... change o pace 'n all that”

Right. Until whoever was looking for him got off the scent or moved on.

“So, how long you boys here for?”

“In town or....” Mikey asked, knowing where this was going.

“Well. Yeah. Sure. I wus finkin'.... they put you up in really posh hotels 'n such, eh? Lot's o room fer one more, wot?”

“Actually, we're heading out tonight... have to be packed and ready by 7, so we...” Dennis added, looking at his watch. He saw where this was headed too. He was a quick study.

“Yeah...” I said sheepishly “we have to make the plane to...” my mind was working furiously “Kiev. We have a thing there, then it's on to Odessa.... St Petersburg... “ I guessed that by indicating that we were leaving the E.U. He wouldn't be able to leech along. His face fell, so I think I guessed right.

“Shit. Oh.....” then his eyes brightened and I could see the new scheme coming together in his mind. “Well.... then.... could you see your way clear to spot me a few.....”

We all stared at him. Waiting.

“....thousand?”

“Thousand?!?” my voice came out louder than I expected.

“Pounds?!?” Mikey shot back. He was as stunned as I. Dennis just looked at all three of us, stonefaced. He was NOT getting involved in this.

“Noooo.... nah.....” Kevin waved his hand dismissively. “Just Euros.... Three should do it.”

“Three thousand Euros? GOD, Kevin!” I was incensed. And I realized in that unguarded moment, I sounded exactly like Katherine! I glanced at Dennis, and his joey-in-the-headlamps stare betrayed that he caught it too. Fortunately Kevin was too busy thinking of his rebuttal or too pissed to notice.

“Jesus fuck boy! Those hollywood wankers wipe their arses with thousand dollar bills... after they snort their coke through them.... No offense mate.” he nodded to Dennis.

“Already taken” Dennis replied with a curt nod. Which Kevin ignored.

“Christ Renzo... if blood can't count on blood.... what the fuck's the point? Help yer old Uncle out here. ...after all I did fer you.....”

I remembered. First I remembered how he used to call me 'renzo' which I hated and still do... maybe even more after all these years. I remember how he 'taught me how to fight' ….by constantly beating the piss out of me and yelling 'defend yersef! Defend yerself ya little poof!' Finally when they saw the bruises at school and called my parents in for a conference with some social welfare people, uncle Kevin wasn't allowed to 'play with me' anymore. Yes. It was all coming back. And the most important thing I recalled, was that the best outcome of an encounter with uncle Kevin was always to somehow get him to go someplace else.

“I don't have that much on me.” I shrugged.

“Actually, we're just traveling with the entourage.” Mikey added. “They're picking up hotels, meals, taxis and stuff... we don't really get paid....”

“Until after the tour.” Dennis jumped. Kevin was getting triple-teamed. “It's a lump sum at the end.”

I knew they were trying to help, but I also knew the most important thing was to get Kevin to go away.

“Three thousand is an awful lot of money.” I brushed the hair back from my brow, and thought 'did I do that like an exasperated guy, or did I do it like Katherine?' Kevin just stared like a hungry animal waiting to be fed. “Ummm... I think I can come up with twenty five hundred in a day or two.”

“A day or two.....” He stared. Then he let out a big breath of air. “OK. I guess I can wait in the lobby of yer hotel for a day or two.” then he sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Like choreography, Dennis, Mikey and I all reached into our pockets to see how much we had on us. We came up with € 172 between us. I promised Kevin I'd get the rest to him within a day. He took a napkin and scribbled an address in Brixton to send the money. Then he grabbed another napkin. He wrote £2500. I scribbled out the Pound sign and replaced it with the Euro symbol. I was going to subtract the €172 from the amount, but I was too tired to do the subtraction and I knew the fight over it would only prolong our encounter with Kevin. He scowled as I scratched out the Pound symbol, then tensed when I added the minus sign and began entering 172 beneath the 2500. I looked him in his glaring eyes and, pokerfaced, scratched out the 172. He nodded curtly.

“Sign it.” he said.

“Seriously?”

His look said it all.

“So much for blood...” I laughed bitterly and signed it. He snatched the napkin back and turned to leave. The barman came over but Kevin didn't even turn around.

“They'll take care of it!” he yelled over his shoulder as he plowed his way through the crowd and out of the pub.

Mikey Dennis and I just looked at each other. Then at the expectant barman. We had just given Kevin every cent we had.