AT 29 (80 page)

“I want to talk about that when we get back home.” He said it without considering what she might think, businesslike, the way he talked about everything.

“What's wrong?”

He softened. “Nothing, I have a few thoughts.”

“What thoughts?”

“About us.”

Ellis was talking to Jimmy on the telephone when Nigel came into the room. They had agreed to share a ride to the club where he was playing with Weak Knees.

“Nigel's here. Want to talk?” He handed the phone over.

“Gidday, mate.”

“You ready?”

“Yes, but I can't sit still.”

“McCabe's here. He says
Yarra
is flying off the shelves.”

“Yeah?”

“You're going to be big, Nigel.”

“I don't want to screw-up.”

“How's Travis doing?”

“That kid can play. He ought to be with you. Deserves the big time.”

“Benson sends his regards,” Jimmy lied.

“Him and Chase staying out of trouble?”

“As long as their miles apart from Ellis, everything should be okay.”

“Yes, well rough around the edges, but good mates. Benson likes the limelight.”

“Let's talk later. I want to know how it goes.”

Ellis came back on. “You heard about the sales figures?”

“Miles said everything has ticked up in advance of tonight's shows.”

“
Yarra
's all the press here. If he goes over big I'll have a dilemma on my hands.”

***

Benson took the stage first after The Riland Brothers Band finished. The reception was thunderous, although some of the shouting was lingering appreciation for the boy band's stirring guitar play. The drummer stopped at center stage and bowed grandiosely, wearing a bright red top hat that he intended as his trademark from then on. As the applause continued, he tapped the drumsticks in his hand then waved to the side of the stage for the rest of Jimmy's band to join him. The star would come last.

Eugene came out, followed closely by Sonny. Ted hooked arms with Melinda who smiled broadly in her skintight black dress as she let herself be led into the lights. For a moment Jimmy's backups stood together taking in the scene, five thousand young people, some already hoisted on shoulders, cheering and shouting for the main event to start, for the Grammy winner to make his appearance.

Buffalo, New York is one of those secret venues insightful promoters understand. While the rest of America rarely gives the city any thought, except for the massive snow it receives every winter, those in the know recognize its energy. Buffalo is blue collar, but it is also a college town, home to tens of thousands of young people fighting for an education through a six-month winter with all of its challenges. More than ten institutions call the city home with another seven populating the surrounding area.

As the backup band retreated to its positions, Mike Winfield strolled to the microphone. His syndicated morning show was top-rated in Buffalo, as it was in most major cities across the country. During the prior week Jim Buckman's appearance had been pushed hard with on-air interviews and promotional spots that touted the uniqueness of the Blossom Presents format. By the time the DJ addressed the audience everyone knew Blossom's stable of artists and every song on their albums. They knew private things about each band and they knew this was only the beginning. Winfield hushed the crowd with a wave of his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen we are proud to be with you in the great city of Buffalo. Tonight we kickoff the Blossom Presents National Tour.”
Applause broke out. Winfield waited for it to subside.
“Other cities may profess sophistication, but we know only Buffalo can lay claim to that special quality of appreciation that compels the best artists, like Jim Buckman, to make a pilgrimage to its stage.”
More applause with whistling and shouts for
“JIMMY!” “He's here, people. Just offstage chomping at the bit. Before I bring him out, remember that this is only the beginning. See all of Blossom's stars together this summer in epic outdoor shows. We'll be down the highway in Cleveland. Or, if you can't get enough of Blossom's chart topping talent, look for more spectacular concerts in Chicago, Pittsburgh and every other major city across America. It's never been done like this before, not since Woodstock, but Blossom Presents will do it better. It all starts here in Buffalo, New York. Get your tickets now, ladies and gentleman. By the time Jimmy's done tonight you'll want to see him and all of Blossom's fabulous artists again and again.”

Benson launched a hard solo beat as the special effects staging lit up. Winfield beckoned the star to the stage as Eugene joined the rhythmic beat with his bass. Jimmy came to the microphone with the Gibson slung over his shoulder. As Winfield disappeared, the crowd was on its feet cheering. Melinda ran her hand along the keyboards then tapped notes from
Choral Guns
, the opening song. Jimmy turned to Ted, who stepped to his side and blew a long note on his harmonica. Sonny hit a chord, the signal for Jimmy to flip the Gibson down into his hands. Then the singer/songwriter brought his lips close to the mike as Benson hit the cymbals and beat a salvo across every drum in his collection. Thus, the show began; the first of many Jim Buckman would fail to remember as the grinding pressure of the road took its toll.

Les rose from her knees in Saint Malachy's small chapel convinced that she had done all that she could to encourage God to bless Jimmy's opening night in Buffalo. Her Catholic upbringing demanded prayer for everything. At this moment, Jimmy topped the
list. It would be hours before they spoke again. In the meantime, she was grateful to have plenty of work to do.

Nigel was already off the stage in Columbus when Jimmy sang his first song. To the Australian's surprise, he was called back for three encores. The shouting and applause followed him to his dressing room even as Weak Knees, the supposed headliner, prepared to take the stage. His reception was not lost on them, nor was it lost on Ellis who wondered if he should call McCabe now or later. It was clear that Whitehurst was a natural.

At the same moment that Jimmy opened his show, Kate was wowing a similarly sized audience in Richmond, Virginia. Rebellion was her band now, a cast of supporting players with the sole purpose of backing her powerful vocals. Cindy took a few notes as the lights flashed across the stage, illuminating Kate's buxom figure. Brighter, she decided, I'll alert the new guy. Then her mind wandered to Miles and what he mentioned so casually on the telephone. Being back in New York with him could not come soon enough.

Miles watched and listened backstage as Jimmy led his band through a typically flawless set. The eager Buffalo crowd was into it from the very beginning. Winfield huddled a few feet away with Alice, deep in conversation. He wondered about their relationship. He wondered what she would write. Dispatches From the Road, he supposed that sort of thing had been done before, but Alice had a following. She commanded the attention of many. It could only be good for his new production company and, of course, for ticket and record sales.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the check he'd written to Jimmy. He knew his star only expected the return of the fifty thousand he'd lent a few weeks earlier. Miles wrote it for seventy-five. Jimmy deserved a piece of the action. Miles was a numbers man, but he was not cheap and he would never cheat anyone.
Yarra
was doing very well. Jimmy deserved the credit for that; his songs, his support for Nigel, his money that made it possible to get the album into the stores. The music business surprised him more everyday. Not everyone was shady. Not Cindy for sure. Not Ellis, although the money motivation was paramount for him. Not Jim Buckman. It was comforting to know he could trust these three cornerstones of his new life.

He walked deeper backstage, waving good-bye to Winfield as he turned the knob to Jimmy's dressing room. He placed the check with Jimmy's things, out of sight, but sure to be found when the singer dressed to leave. Then he found the door and walked out into the night, typically cold for March in Buffalo. The taxi was waiting to take him to the airport. He'd be back in New Jersey in a few hours with much to do the next day. The keystone of his music empire was laid. Now, he would build it artist by artist, song by song, album by album and concert by concert. Each building block carefully selected by the architect and put in place by the builder.

Les continued to pray for Jimmy everyday. It was early May, getting colder in Melbourne. They talked each morning, her time, evening for him, just before he took the stage. She sensed the onset of his weariness. He never let on, but she could tell. Four weeks into the tour and already eleven dates under his belt. And, these were not small boutique shows like before. It was five or ten thousand screaming fans, sometimes more. She didn't know if she should worry, but she did. She missed him so much that it hurt.

Alice Limoges wrote a telling portrayal of life on the road. What Les couldn't get from her conversations with Jimmy was provided by the writer's wonderful prose. Not everything was glamour and excitement. Alice told it like it was. Hard work involving interviews, travel, the press of fans and paparazzi, followed by two hours of sweat inducing music that had to be good, had to be special for the new audience each time.

Les worried, too, about the temptations. Cindy, as they conversed during Winfield's Grammy Awards party, revealed everything about Jimmy's drinking and what it almost did to his career.

“It will never go away. He's an alcoholic.”

“He says it's better now, only a beer now and then. It's true. I've never seen him take anything stronger.”

“Yes. That's better than before.”

“You're not convinced?”

“He's never admitted that he has a problem.”

“Cindy, he spent a long time straightening himself out.”

“Only because he was afraid of losing his career.”

“And, losing you?”

“We could never be. You're the one. I can see it when he looks at you.”

“He never talks about the drinking. There was the television show, Today, Tonight in Australia, but I chalked that up to sensationalism, a ratings grab.”

“The tour will tell the story. We all have to keep an eye on him, especially you.”

“There isn't much I can do from Melbourne.”

“Do you love him?” Les remembered Cindy's question. Why did she have to ask? It had to be obvious. The answer was yes. The conflict was how. “No matter. I know you do. It must be hard, I mean for him. He thinks he can balance everything, writing songs, concert tours, helping in the studio. Now he has to add a super long-distance romance. Stronger guys have fallen off the wagon under that kind of pressure.”

“I have my responsibilities to the orphanage, to the boys.”

“It's safer no doubt.”

“What do you mean?” An unnecessary question, Les knew Cindy saw through her excuse.

“We girls like to be in control. Little boys are easier. The big ones tend to throw us off.”

“You don't think we can make this work?”

“I think you are meant for each other. You play the piano?”

“Yes.”

“He talked about the two of you sitting together, you writing down his songs. His eyes lit up. I knew it was special. I thought it was about the concerts, being onstage in
front of an audience. I babysat him from one gig to another, thinking that's what motivated him. I thought if I could keep him out there with his guitar he'd eventually conquer his addiction. I didn't know about you then. Now, I have a different opinion.”

“It's the music, not the acclaim.”

“So, you understand.”

“Yes. When we were at the piano together.”

“When I heard the songs he wrote for Nigel I realized it's all about the music. The alcohol was holding him back. He's a fabulous performer, but now I understand that performing is not what motivates him, not what he needs. He's happiest when his mind is clear to create.”

“He can still do that while he's touring.”

“Maybe, but everyone is using him to make money. It's a business and Jimmy is the product that's selling best right now. There won't be much time for what really makes him happy.”

“You think it would be different if I was with him?”

“I don't know, but I'm convinced that the longer he is kept away from creating, the riskier it becomes that he will find his way back to his scotch. If he slips, he won't be writing anything, even when he gets off the road.”

“So, that's what he needs from me, a babysitter. It makes it seem like I'm a prop.”

“I don't have the answer. Sometimes, I think it would be better if he didn't perform. Miles is already talking about Jimmy's next album and a world tour, even before this national one is finished. I suppose it comes down to how your relationship plays out.”

“Cindy, he's all I can think about.”

“I know you love each other. The needing part is trickier. His personal desires are taking a backseat to his fame. You're afraid. Nice fulfilling life as far from his world as you can get.”

“You think I'm selfish? I won't make demands on him.”

“Somewhere along the line you'll have to. Whether it's enough to trump the other things in his life will determine your future together.”

Les thought about that conversation often. She knew she needed Jimmy. She obsessed over every word he spoke on their lengthy transoceanic telephone calls. She longed to be with him, but irrational fear huddled in the back of her mind. Somewhere buried so deep that she could not bring it to her consciousness, was the specter of loss. Sometimes, she awoke in the dark, possessed by dread that bathed her body in sweat. Depression forced her from her bed, making her pace for long periods, trying to understand. What was it that made her feel abandoned, left adrift? It was never this way before he came into her life. When she could not find the answer, she would lie down once more, only to be wracked by odd visions of strangely familiar places that filled her with alternating feelings of sorrow and happiness. In her dreams, she returned to Surfers Paradise, watching and listening as the man on the small stage, so close that she could almost reach out and touch his face, played music that was theirs alone. Then the dreams transported her to another time, to a wooden ship that made her shudder in terror, her body shivering in cold nausea. Jimmy's face would appear only to be replaced by another, strong and gentle at the same time. A face that made her fears fade. Music filled her ears, piano music that they played together, side by side in a familiar place belonging
only to them. Then she awoke, no longer thinking of Jimmy, but anxious to rush off to her boys, to squeeze and hug the youngest among them, the ones that needed her, the ones who gave her purpose, the ones who helped her to forget her fears.