AT 29 (110 page)

The summons to McCabe's office came as he was preparing to arrange the first of the six songs he'd written for Nigel. It was the middle of the fourth week and Sonny had enough confidence to work the band on his own. Whitehurst was scheduled to arrive in a week. Jimmy assumed that McCabe wanted to talk about the new material. He stopped by early in the evening. McCabe still maintained his routine of staying late. Jimmy was in the habit of doing the same. Better than going back to the empty apartment. McCabe gestured to the sofa in his office then took a seat further down on the soft cushions.

“How's it going?” Jimmy gave the executive a quick synopsis of the band's progress. McCabe listened, but appeared to be thinking about something else. “I just got off the phone with Nigel. He wants to postpone.”

“He's not coming?”

McCabe sensed the confusion in Jimmy's reaction. “I don't think there's a problem. He said he has some things to tidy up before he gets on a plane.”

“When?”

“Another week, maybe two. That depends on you.”

“Me? What do I have to do with it?”

McCabe shook his head. “Typical Nigel. I have no idea. He wants you to fly over for a meeting. Then the two of you will fly back here together and start working.”

“He didn't tell you what the meeting is about?”

“No, and I didn't ask. I'm more concerned with you at the moment. Taking a long trip, is that something you should be doing right now?”

“The addiction is with me no matter where I am, Miles. A plane ride won't make any difference.”

“AA?”

“There are centers all over the world. I won't miss a meeting.”

“So you're willing to go?”

“I'd like to know more.” He avoided mentioning Les. Maybe she was back in Melbourne. Would he try to find her? The longing crept in.

“He wants you to call him.” McCabe got up and walked back to his desk. “There's something else.” He opened a drawer and retrieved a white envelope. Then he returned to the couch and handed it to Jimmy. “I want you to have this.”

Jimmy opened the envelope and immediately dropped his jaw when he found a check for six million dollars made out to him. “Miles…”

“I'm not buying you out of your contract and it's not a gift. You earned that money.”

“How?”

“While you were getting yourself straightened out I reviewed all the numbers since I arrived here at Blossom. I looked at the money I invested and did a calculation of how it has grown. I realized that I wasn't the only one who put money in. It dawned on me that you also invested when you gave me the money to release Nigel's album.”

“You paid me back for
Yarra
. In fact, you gave me more than I originally lent to you.”

McCabe waved him off. “Blossom's video division is bringing in almost as much as the recording side. I put out a music video of that encore you, Nigel and Kate did in Melbourne. It's been selling like hot cakes ever since MTV put it on the air. Three quarters of a million copies so far. Also, that last song you wrote,
Number Twelve
, on
Yarra
, it's the best selling single we've ever released after
Peg
.”

“Six million dollars? That's hard to believe.”

“I have other videos on the air and in the stores and a dozen more in the planning stages. MTV has been phenomenal for sales, but that's not the point. This morning I fielded an offer of one hundred and fifty million if I was willing to sell. I'm not. That means my original investment of five million has grown by thirty times. Your fifty thousand to me for
Yarra
is worth one and a half mil.”

“That's still far less than this six million. Miles, its too much money.”

McCabe leaned forward and cast his eyes toward the floor with his hands cupped between his knees. He seemed to gather his thoughts. Then he lifted his head and looked at Jimmy. “One hundred and fifty million is also far more than Blossom is worth. The offer has a catch. I'd have to sign a contract to stay on as president for five years. That's where the perceived value comes from. The people behind the offer really want to buy me. They think I have a special talent and they've placed a dollar figure on it. Of course, they don't know all the facts behind our success. No, I'll never sell out. I'm having too much fun and I've come to realize that I have always needed to be my own boss. I've done some things, yes, but in my mind Blossom might have failed without you. As a friend I must tell you that in my humble, untrained opinion, you are the finest songwriter in the business. I'm giving you this money because I'm a businessman and business is all I know. It's who I am. When I come upon a commodity, whether it's tangible or something I can only feel and admire, such as you and your talent, I immediately attach a value to it. Almost always that value is in dollars. At our current rate of growth, and with the plans I have in the works, six million comes out as a fair valuation of your impact on Blossom's success. Without you nothing I have accomplished to date and none of the plans I have for the future would have had a chance to succeed. I want you to accept this money for no other reason than that.

***

“Are you on track, mate?” Nigel sounded strong and confident. Nothing like the last time Jimmy spoke to him a year earlier.

“Doing fine. How about you?”

“Splendid.”

“You were supposed to be here in a couple of days.”

“Like I told McCabe, we've got a few things to do then we can fly to the States together.”

“What things and where do I fit in?”

Nigel let out a booming laugh from the other side of the world. “Do you like secrets?”

“No.”

“But you'll come?”

Jimmy was pleased by the Australian's relaxed, happy tone. If he was still fighting his demons, it didn't come through over the telephone.

“Why not fill me in?”

“I can tell you this much. Come to Melbourne. Then we'll head out to the Great Ocean Road. I want to show you some things.

“What things? I'm still waiting for an answer.”

“Think about that night on the rocks at Bells Beach.”

The night hours can be long for an alcoholic, dark and lonely in that tempting way that beckons one to fill the void. Sleep, of course, that's what serene people do, their minds and bodies unhampered by cravings so deeply felt that peace cannot be found. Others certainly have their fears, but the strong-minded can shut them away, enabling restless, semi-conscious if not perfect, slumber. Nowhere is the lengthy dark more perverse than on a lumbering behemoth droning through the black sky above the Pacific with a dozen hours to go.

“First class,” McCabe insisted, “you'll be comfortable and the food's better.”

Three hours out, the dinner service was over. Some of his fellow passengers still nursed a glass of wine or cup of coffee, but the flight attendants had already closed the window sliders. A movie started, but the glow barely penetrated the dark as the last of the aisle lights were dimmed. The cocoons began to form; a young woman adjusts a small light and curls her legs under her body with a paperback close to her eyes. An older man up front is already asleep, snoring mildly. Another man steps out of his seat to retrieve a blanket from the overhead bin then slips back and reclines the seatback. A lone flight attendant makes one final sweep down the aisle, peering closely at the waist of each passenger. She stops to nudge a dozing businesswoman to fasten her seatbelt before continuing on. A moment later, she disappears behind a curtain to take her break.

Jimmy slid the window curtain open just enough to look out at the night. In the distance he could see wisps of cirrus clouds. He pictured the endless waters far below, a massive ocean filled with mystery and creatures of the deep. Soon, the Hawaiian Islands would come and go, likely unseen, either too far north or missed in the failure to look down at the right moment. He slid the shade closed and settled back, pressing the button to drop his seatback a few notches. He closed his eyes in a useless effort to relax. He had little fear of flying, just the scotch. It called him.

An hour later the craving passed. He dozed, letting his mind travel through time to the places he'd been, the things he'd experienced. So much had changed, but nothing gave him the tranquility he expected. What did Franco say? “Few people realize the dream. Those who do, expect to be transformed. They become disillusioned when they discover they're still the same.” Franco was right. Jimmy reached his pinnacle that night
on the CBS stage. Here he sat, almost two years later, the same person he was before the roller coaster took off. Sleep eventually came and with it she was there.

A year later, when he asked me for help with a script, Jimmy related the story. Eerie and touching, it made me wonder
.

- Alice Limoges

Nigel met him just outside the customs exit at Tullamarine Airport. Jimmy recognized him only by his size. In all other ways Whitehurst was a different man. His physique was sculpted, slim and muscular, face and arms tanned with a golden hue that shined in the bright terminal light. His lips curled into a huge smile the moment Jimmy appeared. He let out a loud, “Gidday, mate”, pushing through the scores of others who had arrived on the same flight.

He was recognized. A throng moved with Whitehurst wherever he went. Two airport policemen held the hovering fans back just enough to let him move. They anchored the space to his right and left, with serious looks on their faces as they shouted for people to stay clear. The scene caught Jimmy by surprise although it shouldn't have. Not so long ago he ran the same gantlets. A few of the young people shouted when they saw him wrap Jimmy in a manly hug. It took only seconds for them to recognize the American as well. Then the press became harder for the policemen to control. A dozen handshakes and thirty autographs later, the two singers were hustled through the doors to a waiting car. Baggage handlers threw Jimmy's suitcase into the boot then slapped the car's roof, alerting the striking, olive skinned woman behind the wheel to drive off. Nigel sat in front while Jimmy had the entire expanse of the Range Rover's back seat to himself.

“I think you know Reina,” Whitehurst said, as the car glided into traffic.

Jimmy looked into the rearview mirror to see the exotic black eyes of Reina Das smiling back at him. “Hello, Jim,” she said, warmly before accelerating into the passing lane.

Nigel talked incessantly. He had questions about the flight, questions about Blossom and comments on the way Jimmy looked, so much better than the last time he saw him on the rocks at Winkipop. As he talked, he rested his muscular arm on the top of Reina's seatback caressing her neck gently. Occasionally, she looked over with an affectionate smile. Then she turned her eyes back to the road, but not before glancing in the mirror to smile at Jimmy, too.

“So what's this meeting about?” Jimmy managed to say when Nigel took a breath.

“How's the jetlag?”

“Tolerable. It'll hit me later.”

“I booked a hotel in the city. We'll drive out to Apollo Bay in the morning.”

Jimmy pushed Les out of his mind. “McCabe know about this?”

“It doesn't have anything to do with Blossom. It's a personal matter.”

“So what does it have to do with me?”

“Your personal matter.”

After checking in, Nigel suggested a quick shower followed by lunch. “Meet us in the lobby in an hour.”

The shower felt good. Jimmy was surprised that the long flight didn't seem to physically drain him as much as he expected. He was invigorated to be on the ground and elated to find Nigel in such good spirits. He decided that Sister Marie was right. Reina,
the beautiful Bangladeshi violinist, made all the difference. Only Nigel was waiting in the lobby when he appeared.

“Reina thinks we ought to have a chance to catch up without her.”

They took a table in the hotel restaurant. Over sandwiches they shared their respective experiences in rehab. Sometimes the conversation was humorous, other times quite serious, as they admitted the difficult challenge they would both face for the rest of their lives. Nigel grew quiet as coffee arrived, looking uncomfortable for the first time since Jimmy landed.

“What's on your mind, Nigel?” Jimmy knew he had something he wanted to say.

“You saved my life.”

“I was there. You went under. Anyone would have rushed to help.”

“I mean Reina.”

Jimmy shifted in his seat. Impulse, it was an impulse borne from his one time need to find Les. “The way you talked about her on the rocks. The doctor said you were in bad shape. I thought she should know.”

Whitehurst stared straight ahead, thinking. “She helped me kick the heroin. No more magic green, either.” He lifted a steady hand. Jimmy noticed the gold wedding band for the first time. “We've been married for three months.”

Jimmy tried to joke. “I thought her father didn't like you.”

Nigel smiled, catching the trail. “Did I tell you about him?” He raised his coffee cup and took a sip. “Traditions die hard. He thinks he has the right to choose for her like his father did for him, but he loves his daughter. The good thing is we're married and he and Reina still talk. It wasn't that way when we lived together the first time.”

“Where are you living?”

“Airey's Inlet for now. Apollo Bay is where we'll make our permanent home.”

“That reminds me, why am I here? No more secrets.”

Nigel laughed. “That's all the fun, but you deserve a bit more than I told you before. Our chat on the rocks, me not knowing who I am, remember that?”

“Sure. Did you do some digging?”

“In a way. It was inadvertent, the black who helped us. It turns out that he was more than a stranger who showed up at the right time.”