AT 29 (76 page)

He took a sip from his glass, watching as Cindy crossed the room with the pretty young woman he did not recognize. They were making the rounds, Cindy being her typical engaging self, making sure to greet everyone. She was even more beautiful than two months ago at The Beacon. The woman with her was her rival. Eventually, they made their way to where he was seated.

“Miles, this is Leslie Marshall.” He stood, smiled and took the young woman's hand.

“My pleasure,” he said, holding her eyes before turning back to Cindy for more information.

“Jimmy's date for tonight,” Cindy offered. “She's also Nigel's friend from Melbourne. She's with the orphanage.”

“Oh,” he said, once again smiling at Les. “You're the one who forged Nigel's signature on the contract.” It was a mischievous statement.

“That's not how I want to be known,” Les replied, good-naturedly.

Mike Winfield appeared from out of nowhere to take Miles by the elbow. “Time for us to make our entrance,” he commanded.

Nigel fell in behind the entourage, making eye contact with Les as everyone shuffled toward the door. He was glad she'd come. By pre-arrangement, he was Jimmy's stand-in as her escort until everyone was seated at the tables. He had a few butterflies in his stomach. Having someone from his life back home was helpful.

They paired up at the elevators, just behind Miles and Cindy. Winfield led the way across the hotel lobby and through the entrance to the roped off path leading across the street to the red carpet. Loren held him by the arm, making sure he kept moving even as he veered toward the ropes to greet faces he neither recognized nor cared about. It was all a show to him, a chance to be seen and admired.

It was five thirty and the better-known celebrities seemed to arrive all at once; actors, singers, music business executives and plenty of others who had no professional reason to be there other than a pretty face or a wild reputation. They made their entrances in two's and threes. Many found themselves waylaid by the paparazzi; dutifully stopping to answer a superficial question or two while an army of photographers took pictures. As unknowns, Nigel and Les made their way easily. Miles also liked the anonymity. Although Cindy was much in demand, he could stand to the side with little fear of being mobbed.

Alice Limoges was staked out near the entrance. Other than making sure her photographer took the shots she wanted, she took no part in the clamorous shouting the other reporters were doing all around. Her interviews were already lined up after the show. Jimmy, of course, and the new Blossom celebrity, Kate. Both of whom she was certain would come away with awards. She had another mission at the moment, a personal directive from Peggy. “Pictures, sister. Lots of pictures.”

Jimmy said she'd be with the big guy. She rose up on her tiptoes, surveying the line. One head stood above everyone else. It must be him. She waited, nudging her photographer to readiness. When they came into view she said, “Her!” pointing at Les. The photographer shot a full roll as Alice watched the two glide by. She already had plenty to tell her sister. Jimmy had good reason to be in love. This new girl was a stunner.

As the last few people neared the entrance, Alice gathered her things and hurried to the side door. She stopped for one quick look back at the red carpet, spying two members of VooDoo9 as they brought up the rear. No one paid them much attention. Toby Maine was nowhere to be seen. She marveled at the way a group so close to the top could fall so swiftly. Mike Winfield's crafty interview had crippled last year's biggest Grammy winners.

The line queued up in the building lobby. Thankfully, the constant camera flashes ceased as no paparazzi were permitted beyond the entrance. Les clung to Nigel as she surveyed the dozens of well-known entertainers, so close that she could touch them. The women were all beautiful beyond anything Les had ever seen before. Some were outrageously dressed with skirts so high and tight that she wondered how they could be free of embarrassment. Others were simply striking in brightly colored gowns most certainly created exclusively for the occasion. She looked down at her own gown, a deep
blue design, accenting features of her body that she'd never given thought to previously. Emory and Jerome had worked brilliant magic. Her dress and new hairstyle made her feel beautiful like these other women. This was entirely new for her. Cindy made it special, allaying her fears so easily that Les almost felt like she belonged. The line moved very slowly. Far ahead, she could see men and women dressed identically in faux tuxedos, greeting each guest respectfully, but not letting them pass without scanning clipboards, checking each name. She didn't mind the wait. It was all too exciting to be impatient.

Nigel also scanned the lobby. He'd said little to Les or anyone else since leaving Winfield's suite. A few weeks before he'd been safely alone with his magic green and his beloved Southern Ocean, but Jimmy's songs changed all that so abruptly that his head still spun. His emotions were a mixture of uncertainty and determination. He was in love with the music, all the more so because Blossom Records had given him the freedom to make the recordings his way. His biggest concern before leaving Australia was not having free rein to do what he wanted to do. Jimmy won that for him. McCabe confirmed it, but the no-nonsense American said it came with a leash. That was the uncertainty. Was it good enough?

“This is a business,” McCabe warned Nigel after Jimmy went on his tour. “It's about results. Jim says you need to have your own way, but I'll give it to you only to a point. If you don't deliver and do it on schedule, I step in.”

That kind of pressure was nothing new to him. McCabe paled before the demands Sister Marie had made of Nigel all his life. The uncertainty came from another place buried so deep that it was no longer rational, the constant question that plagued his mind. Who am I? That's why he came to America, Jimmy's songs that struck a chord of familiarity. In those beautiful notes he sensed an odd recognition of who he was. He cared little for the kind of fame and fortune that filled this lobby. He scoffed at almost everything Saint Malachy's choir director drummed into his young singers. Only one declaration instilled by the high-strung man at each practice stuck. ‘Music is a journey. It can help you see what God wants you to see. If you are troubled it will soothe. If you are unsure, it can show you the way. If you are alone, it will be your friend.' Nigel had always been alone. He needed the music to penetrate the mist that obscured his sense of self. His body stiffened. ‘Nothing,' he thought to himself. ‘I know nothing.' A one-armed man he no longer remembered simply abandoned him to a life of unanswered questions. His father loved him, Sister Marie insisted. What father could set his child adrift in a sea of uncertainty? What kind of love leaves a child alone in the world? How could he ever find the answers? It's in Jimmy's music. Somehow, Nigel was certain.

The familiar want came on as the line inched forward. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jacket. His fingers curled around a half dozen joints. When the evening was over they'd be there for him. Chase saved the day. Chase and Benson kept him supplied. Not so good as magic green, but good enough. He guided Les forward. Reina crossed his mind. He looked down at Les, wishing his real love were by his side in the glitter of New York City.

Once inside, Les was struck by the smallness of the room, made more so by the cameras positioned everywhere, manned by technicians occupying every inch of open space. Only one path led to the tables jammed tightly in the center beneath the stage. The curtains were closed, but there was movement behind, easily detected by the shimmer of the heavy velvet as it brushed the stage floor. She let her eyes wander about, looking for
Jimmy. Mike Winfield continued to act as the host, first directing Miles and Cindy to the best seats next to where he would eventually sit with Loren, and then pointing at other seats for everyone else. Kate took one at the second table with the rest of Rebellion, but Winfield quickly touched her arm and pointed to the first table to the right of where Loren was preparing to sit. It fronted a clear path to the short stairs leading onto the stage. Les glimpsed Cindy looking for her. She raised her hand to catch her attention. Cindy smiled and gestured to the two empty seats next to where she was waiting, mouthing the word, ‘here'. Nigel saw it, too. He guided Les to Cindy's side then moved on to table two where Benson was already seated. The attention-seeking drummer was decked out in a gaudy suit, this time bleached denim covered in sparkles with a matching top hat.

Alice left her photographer in the corridor and burst into the dressing room where Jimmy was huddled with his band. Ellis moved to intercept, but she brushed past as Jimmy looked up.

“Come with me,” she ordered, ignoring everyone else. “We need to make a quick phone call.”

“Who?” Jimmy asked.

“Who do you think?”

Peggy came on the line just as Alice handed him the receiver.

“I know this is a bad time.”

“I wish you were here.”

“We're all sitting in front of the television. I just want to say good luck.”

“If
Peg
wins tonight it will be because of you.”

“You'll do it, Jimmy. I know you will.” He handed the phone back to Alice who waved him back to his dressing room.”

“You there?”

“Yes, yes, tell me.”

“She's a knockout.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Not yet, maybe later.”

“Pictures?”

“Lots. I gotta go.”

“No, wait what's she wearing so I'll recognize her on TV?”

“Blue gown. Brunette semi-short. She'll be next to Jimmy at the table.”

Jimmy and the others made it to the table just before the lights went down. Two huge monitors, on either side of the stage, lit up with a view of the performance area on one and the audience on the other. Les took his hand as he sat down beside her.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, LIVE FROM THE CBS STUDIOS IN NEW YORK CITY, THIS IS THE GRAMMY AWARDS!”

From a pit in front of the stage an orchestra launched into a symphonic suite of all of the songs nominated for award. The lights dimmed slowly as the musicians segued from one short piece of each song to the next.
Peg
closed the overture to resounding applause as the lights came up and the evening's host, a well-know comedian, was spotlighted at the podium stage right. Mike Winfield leaned across the table to catch Jimmy's eye. He winked knowingly as the applause died down.

The first hour was a blur for the people from Blossom Records. Miles endured the presentations, frequently accompanied by awkward jokes and patronizing adulation, with
increasing impatience. He could not relax, knowing that his singers, up for the night's biggest awards, would not learn their fates for another ninety minutes. During the interminable commercial breaks he stirred restlessly in his chair, looking around the room, unable to join in the conversations at the table. Cindy recognized his state, but paid it no mind. Their weeks of living together had given her all that she needed to know about her lover's traits. Some she could change, others were best ignored. He was a man, after all, and men had their ways. Instead, she delighted in her new friend from Australia.

Les tried to act like everything was normal. Jimmy was not himself. She understood why, of course, but in these early days of their love, she felt the need to be of comfort as he waited and wondered about his prospects. She tried to keep the conversation light, breathing a sigh of relief when the television commercials ended and the festivities resumed. Eventually, she gave up, turning to Cindy who came close to her ear and whispered.

“We're both alone until this is over.”

Ellis watched the monitors. He had his own theory about the evening's outcome. With Jimmy to his left and Mike Winfield book ending McCabe and the two beautiful women in between, he was sure the television cameras would be turned to his table often. Jimmy was due to perform in thirty minutes. Shortly, he would leave to go backstage. From then on, if the cameras continued to pan to his table, Ellis decided it would be a sign. All those protestations of secrecy, the identity of the night's winners protected by some well-known accounting firm, were a fallacy. People knew, Winfield knew, he was sure of it. He slipped his hand inside his jacket to the pocket holding the check McCabe had given him that afternoon. He fingered the slip of paper. The weeks of standoff between the two businessmen were over. Blossom's new owner had come through. Paid in full with more to come, slightly ahead of time. His trust was restored, but not completely. He would be vigilant. He didn't like anyone messing with his money.

Nigel watched it all from his seat next to Benson at table two. He liked Benson, but only behind the scenes where the glare of cameras or the fawning of fans could not interfere. It didn't help that Benson looked ridiculous. Nor did he like it when the drummer jumped up, whistling and applauding loudly each time a winner was announced. An unabashed grab for attention that made him look foolish.

Jimmy counted the seconds. He knew Les had given up trying to talk to him. His one-word answers seemed unresponsive, even to him. He'd torn two paper napkins into dozens of tiny pieces and searched the table for more. He glanced often at Kate. She met his eyes and held them each time, a frightened countenance that only made his nerves more on edge. He felt as if he was waiting to confront some dreaded event, wondering how he would deal with the unknown challenge, a life-threatening battle where courage or cowardice would seal the memory of what was to come forever. It was no such thing, he rationalized, but he couldn't make his mind control his emotions. He turned his thoughts to the fiasco in Atlantic City. It seemed so distant, yet here he was with the people who shared that seminal night. Cindy, Ellis, Sonny and Benson; they all remained from his past life, but in this new one, their roles were changed. Now, it was different, better. He rediscovered his music and Peggy. They were his friends once again like it was supposed to be, and George, who helped him to make sense of it all.