The Happiest Runaway

Bonnie Raitt breezes into my hotel room, ignores the two chairs I've set up to talk, and plops down on my bed, Doc Martens and all. She pulls two pillows from under the cover to prop up her back and then catches herself. "Oh," she says with an apologetic grimace. "These are your pillows."

Raitt has never been what you would call inhibited, but these days she's feeling positively frisky, to use her word. She's not a pop star anymore, as she was in the early 1990s, after her breakthrough album Nick of Time sold 5 million copies and earned her...

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