AT 29 (100 page)

In a nod to their hosts, Ellis opened the dress rehearsal to the employees of the Opera House, both performers and staff. With opera, theater, ballet and symphony productions taking place nearly everyday year round, the massive building was constantly
a buzz. Despite the rain, a large contingent took places on the grass, most with umbrellas opened wide.

As the three groups went through their sets, often stopping and starting to get aspects of each performance just right, Jimmy found himself searching the faces beneath the umbrellas, hoping to see Les. It was futile, he realized, she had no association with the Opera House, but he gazed at the small crowd anyway, hoping. Whitehurst did the same. His constant study of the audience was far more noticeable. It began as soon as the first few employees made their way onto the grass and continued unabated throughout all three run throughs. The Australian star all but ignored Ellis and his instructions as he sang a few bars from each song. He ignored his backups as well, concentrating every ounce of his attention solely on the waterlogged onlookers who braved the rain. If he wasn't concentrated on his own search and so worried about his lost love, Jimmy might have discerned the motive that stole Nigel's devotion from the task at hand. He missed it though, as did everyone else. Whitehurst pursued his unknown quest without comment.

The McCabes arrived at their Sydney hotel just after six a.m. Fortunately, the rarely booked suite was ready when they checked-in, enabling them to catch a few hours of sleep before rousing in late morning to prepare for the concert. Ellis met them for lunch at a café overlooking the harbor. McCabe filled him in on the Vultures' arrest in New York. The agent smiled with satisfaction.

Jimmy booked a room in the Tulip Hotel overlooking the harbor. It was not his place of residence while in Sydney. Rather, it was something he'd spotted the day before, after the rehearsal, a vantage point, affording a perfect view of the people who walked and milled about the harbor from Circular Quay to Bennelong Point, upon which the Opera House and its Forecourt were situated. At noon on the day of the performance, with newly purchased binoculars in hand, he took the elevator to the top floor, entered the room he'd booked for twenty-four hours and took a position on the balcony.

Miles strolled the Circular Quay hand in hand with Cindy. They talked little, preferring to take in the sights on their first trip abroad since they were married. He had things to think about. The concert that night would be different from the other Blossom Presents shows in the U.S. Most notably, the crowd would be far smaller, only a tenth the size. The Forecourt was too small to accommodate an audience of more than sixty five hundred. The take would be tiny, not even covering half the cost of the new stage. This did not trouble him. The show was sold out. Tickets ran out within minutes of going on sale. In all, some seventy thousand people had queued up to make a purchase. The newspapers blasted the show's sponsors for selecting a venue too small. McCabe took the critics in stride. It was only a test for the world tour.
Yarra
was Australia's best selling album by far. It was Nigel's homecoming, but he'd be back again.

On the plane he made a decision. The world tour would be tabled for later. There were too many complications that could mar its success, not least Whitehurst's drug problem and possibly Jim's return to the bottle. It bothered him to postpone his ambitious plans, but he knew it would be a financial disaster if his two biggest moneymakers flopped because they couldn't overcome their addictions. On those two fronts it was best to wait and see. In the meantime, he had plenty to keep his growing label busy. Five new talents were hard at work in the studios. He hired the best songwriters, arrangers and mixers in the business to supply endless repertoires that were being fashioned into debut albums. He had big plans for the Canadian, even bigger plans for The Riland Brothers,
both of whom had proven they could draw fans of their own. Jimmy's lead guitarist also had a following. Cindy would take personal charge of him. Sonny would have an album in the stores in six months. Kate didn't need Rebellion anymore. He was on the fence about what to do. He leaned toward putting her on the road as a single, maybe crisscrossing Europe for a few months. Test the waters, so to speak. If well received, then he'd get her back in the studio with new material and bring her out under her own name for good. Rebellion could be repackaged without her. Ellis would have a hand in that decision. Weak Knees would never be big in the States. He didn't know the answer to that one. Sometimes, he guessed, it just wasn't meant to be. Still, they did well on the continent and especially in the U.K. That's where they would stay, forming the foundation of a new Blossom formula over there. He'd get them new material. Gone were his money worries. Just Whitehurst and Buckman. How to straighten them out and fortify their fame, protect the revenue stream they produced for his company.

It was a stunning late spring day, the opposite of the previous one. The Circular Quay crowds were typically large. Jimmy kept the binoculars to his eyes as he scanned the face of every woman bearing a resemblance to Les. He was beyond reason, unaware of the oddity of his actions. Stalking, voyeurism, obsession, none of these descriptions entered his mind. By three o'clock, the initial outline of a procession began to form one hundred meters short of the majestic steps fronting the Opera House. Two hours later it stretched back around the harbor, people in twos, threes and fours, mostly young, but with a few middle-agers sprinkled in. The sun was high, bright and hot, one of those dry afternoon furnaces that the continent was noted for. Jimmy stayed at his post for as long as he could, hope fading with each passing minute as she failed to grace his lenses. At five, he gave up. He was already late. Although the show would not start until seven, his presence was expected along with everyone else.

Kate kicked things off in spectacular fashion. The ropes had been taken down at six, the audience in-place, and standing tightly together thirty minutes later. Outside, with no view of the stage, but able to hear, another five thousand non-paying listeners crammed the Circular Quay, backing all the way up to the edges of Sydney's central business district where traffic became a nightmare. The neighboring Royal Botanical Gardens remained open to visitors. Blankets littered the pristine lawns with families and lovers waiting, ears cocked, for a chance to catch a faint note now and then. Consummate lovers of the outdoors, the Australians used the occasion to feed that love and to fete their native son who had won respect not only for himself, but also for his country.

Jimmy took the stage in a mild state of depression. He missed his guitar, which now represented a form of security for his anguished emotions. If Les was present, he knew he would never see her in the crowd. The lights, shining into his face, were too bright to let him see beyond the lip of the new stage, but he held a glimmer of hope. She might come to him after the concert.

Whitehurst entered to a resounding reception that drowned out the opening notes of his first song. The band was surprised when he opted to keep his fiddle on its stand, choosing to open with his signature song,
Paradise
. No one could know that his purpose was to keep his eyes free to scan the faces in the crowd for someone he hoped to see. But he could penetrate McCabe's lighting no better than Jimmy, two singers frustrated in a quest known only to them.

With a format made rote by scores of past performances, all three acts gave the city of Sydney what it expected. Only one action interfered and it came at the very end. Thunderous applause met Nigel's final song,
Number Twelve
, from
Yarra
. At its conclusion, shouts, whistles and cries for an encore lasted for minutes as Ellis gathered the band off stage for a return, but Whitehurst was already gone. The star slipped away without a word. The newspaper critics, while heaping high praise upon their fellow Aussie, could not resist penning strong criticism for his failure to return for one or two more songs. He did not reappear until hours before the last concert in Melbourne.

Jimmy missed the final act altogether. He despaired of Les' presence in the Forecourt audience. He was gone before Nigel finished his set, hailing a cab to catch a mid-night flight to Melbourne. He spent an uneasy night in his hotel, waiting for morning so he could resume his search.

Sister Marie had no news. He walked the city streets once more, retracing his steps, but with less hope. Miles came to fetch him early Saturday afternoon. No one had seen nor heard from Jimmy since Sydney. No one was sure of Nigel's whereabouts, either. When he knocked on Jimmy's door he had his ultimatum ready, but the words faded to silence when the door opened and he saw the distressed condition of his singer. At first, he thought it was a hangover, but he quickly concluded otherwise as Jimmy returned his stare with a helpless, dark eyed expression. McCabe didn't know what was wrong and didn't care to get involved. His only thought was to corral his moneymaker and guarantee his presence at Melbourne's Meyer Music Bowl. They rode in silence in the limo to the staging area beyond the tented ‘Bowl'.

When they exited the car, Miles managed to ask, “I don't suppose you know where Nigel is, do you?” Jimmy shook his head and walked away.

Cindy knew Jimmy was worried about Les. She had called the orphanage as soon as she arrived in Melbourne, speaking to Sister Marie for the first time. The sad story was retold once more. When Jimmy entered the staging area she hurried to his side, taking him by the hand and spiriting him away from the others. Ellis made a move to intercept, but she signaled ‘no' with a stern look. He backed off.

“No luck?” she asked, hoping Jimmy wouldn't say what his face clearly reflected.

“Gone.”

“Maybe she'll be here tonight.”

“I doubt it. She would have surfaced by now.”

When Whitehurst arrived the signs were obvious. He was high. McCabe hit the roof. Cindy calmed her husband while Ellis took the big man aside and gauged his ability to do the performance. Cocaine and heroin had long been staples of the music world. As far back as the twenties well-known performers boasted of its creative influence. Ellis came away satisfied, if only for this night. He left Whitehurst alone in a chair with a cup of water. Like Jimmy, he was away from the rest of the group.

Kate shifted her eyes between the two men, one looking drawn and thoroughly depressed, the other serene, both far away. The wind quickly went out of her sails. She wanted this last performance to be special. For that, she had a thought in mind, but it required collaboration and neither man seem to be in a receptive mood. It was hard for her to see them this way, especially Jimmy who had been her strength when she needed it. A Grammy, she thought, it never would have been possible without his encouragement. She walked over. Jimmy didn't acknowledge her when she sat down at
his side. His head remained bowed, his arms resting on his knees, hands, one bandaged, dangling in between. She wanted to talk to him. She didn't know what was wrong. In the end, she settled for silence, resting her arm around his hunched shoulders.

The concert went on without a hitch, much the same as Sydney, except for the crowd, which numbered twenty thousand tightly packed on the grass that rose upon a slope above the seats directly in front of the Bowl. The scene reminded Jimmy of Surfers Paradise. He searched the faces for Les, but it was a half-hearted search. He sensed she wasn't there.

Whitehurst was the main draw again, receiving a roar of appreciation the moment he appeared. The heroin high was muted by the passage of several hours and by the homecoming to the very city where the meaning of the word
Yarra
was understood. He opened on his fiddle, wowing once again with the gathering momentum of bow on strings. He ran the set in sequence, just as the songs were ordered on the album. His fellow Aussies were euphoric from beginning to end.

McCabe watched from behind the camera crew he'd hired to tape the show. It never would have occurred to him had he not been urged to do it by the people at MTV, that and Winfield's subterfuge. Even so, he had his doubts, almost canceling the effort when he saw Nigel's condition, but Cindy convinced him. Six cameras captured the scene, three focused on the stage and three trained on the audience. Sophisticated audio equipment recorded the sound.

Backstage, as Whitehurst began his last song, Kate pulled Ellis and Jimmy aside. There would be an encore. McCabe made that clear after taking the heat in Sydney. She described the idea that she originally wanted to share with Jimmy and Nigel that afternoon. Both men listened, nodding agreement. Ellis alerted the bands then went to the side of the stage and waited for Whitehurst to finish. The long applause provided enough time to make sure the big man was clued in.

Kate, Jimmy and Nigel waited offstage for what seemed like a long time. Ellis ordered the lights to be turned down, suggesting that the concert was truly over even as shouts, whistles and cries for more rose up. To the rear of the stage Nigel's backing orchestra began to break down their instruments. Ellis gestured at the nearest stagehand to close the rear curtains in front of them and quickly signaled for the musicians to stay in their seats, unseen by the audience. Another roady carried three stools and positioned them center stage close to the front. When all was ready Ellis pointed at Blossom's stars. The lights slowly rose. Led by Kate, they returned to the stage with all three bands following close behind.

Kate kicked things off, taking the stool to the left. Jimmy was positioned in the center, Nigel climbed upon the last stool. One spotlight focused on the three as Kate hushed the crowd with a wave of her hand and sang the first verse of her signature song. The high-spirited ballad normally called for an up-tempo beat that urged her vocals to increasing volume from verse to verse. This was her strength, a powerful voice matched with equally powerful instrumentation, but this time she kept it low. Only a soft bass accompanied her at the start, gradually joined by a barely audible thumping of the drums. Of necessity, she'd sung the song earlier in the evening in its original form. It was entirely different now, not the ribald rocking classic the people of Melbourne heard before, but a soft plaintive poem that stirred some to rise to their feet and cock their ears. As the guitars joined in Kate raised her voice, kicking the octave up ever so slightly. At
mid-song she stood and took a step closer to the edge of the stage. Jimmy and Nigel rose as well, taking positions just behind on either side. At the second to last chorus, they lent their voices to her's, delivering a pleasing blend as the last instruments, keyboard and harmonica, made their entrance. When she opened the final verse, this time drawing a deep breath and blasting forth with all the energy she had, the thirty instruments of all three bands and the orchestra joined in. The powerful sound went out and through the densely packed slope, forcing those who had not risen to hurry to their feet. Nigel lent the full power of his voice to her's, while Jimmy expertly pressed his vocals for balance. The brass and strings of the orchestra exploded to full crescendo from their unseen positions behind the back curtains just as Nigel went silent, followed a lyric later by Jimmy. Then the guitars drifted off and each of the other instruments until only Kate and two orchestra violins could be heard. They, too, fell away, one at a time until once more it was only Kate, her voice drifting down to the final word which she drew out softly to the final note, signaling the end.