“It feels different with you,” he said. Her willing hand in his made his confidence surge. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly since the moment we met.”
“Thinking what about me?”
“The fact that you are an American who grew up not twenty miles away from my hometown, yet now we meet on the other side of the world. The way everything about you feels familiar. Like I’ve always known you.”
Les smiled and gave out a brief sigh. “You’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
“What do you mean one last time?”
“That’s obvious, isn’t it? Tomorrow, you go home.”
They came out of the park and waited for the traffic to pass before crossing the street to the hotel.
“I have a tour to plan and Back and Blue will be released in a few weeks.”
“That’s what I mean.”
Jimmy stopped and turned to face her, still gripping her hand, unwilling to let go even for an instant. “We’re just beginning. I’ll see you again.”
Leslie didn’t answer. She turned back to the street and pulled gently on his hand to cross. Inside, they took a table in the bar. A few businessmen were scattered at the other tables. Jimmy didn’t feel like drinking. He realized with satisfaction that it was a marked departure from his boozing days. He ordered a sparkling water. Les ordered Balvenie neat.
“Something has been bothering me,” he said. “When I said I merely scribbled some notes, that I didn’t write the music, you seemed to already know.”
“You don’t have the patience.”
“That’s my point. How did you know?”
“Just a feeling.”
“Why did you write them for me?”
“Same thing. It felt like it was what I should do.”
“I held flying until tomorrow so I could see you tonight.”
“I’m glad.”
“So what do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
Jimmy looked out toward the lobby and the elevators leading to the guest rooms above. Leslie followed his eyes without commenting. He reached across the table and clutched her hand.
“I want us to spend every minute together until my plane leaves.”
She raised her face and met his gaze. “Then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do. You disappear back to the U. S. Maybe I see you again, maybe I don’t.”
Jimmy knew she was right. He wanted to say the right thing, but he knew he couldn’t give her the reassurance she needed. Touring was a vagabond life.
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“What other way can it be?” She gazed at him expectantly.
“We can take what comes. Tonight, for example, we can enjoy the time we have. Let tomorrow take care of itself until we can meet again.”
“Is that the way you want it to be, open ended?”
“No, not open ended.” He was sputtering in exasperation. “We hardly know each other and we don’t have the time to wait until we do.”
She looked away. “I can wait.”
“Even when we have no idea when we’ll meet again?”
“Because of it.”
“I can’t.” He was sorry he said it. Her eyes came back to his, flashing anger.
“Do you think this is some kind of game? I’m not in your league. Suppose I do what your eyes just told me you want me to do. Suppose it’s everything we hope it will be. Then you’re gone. I’m left here trying to forget when I know I’ll never forget, but you will. You’ll be off on your tour fighting off every girl who hears your songs. Or maybe you won’t fight them off. Of course you won’t. There’s too many of them. Isn’t that how it works? Then maybe you do come back to Australia, but it always ends the same.”
“Les,” he pleaded, “what do you want me to do?”
“There’s nothing you can do. And, I can’t be a different person for one night.” She looked toward the door leading outside.
Jimmy panicked. “Don’t go. I won’t press.”
They went quiet, each trying to think of a way to change the subject. He was embarrassed. It was stupid of him to suggest what he knew she believed would be a one-night stand. The euphoria of the last few days dispersed like air from a balloon. In a flash, he was depressed as well as tongue-tied. The thought of leaving Australia, leaving her behind, filled him with regret.
“You described Surfer’s Paradise like you knew what I was feeling.”
She brightened. “You were on another level. It was hypnotic.”
“I wish we’d met then.”
“I already knew you. It was worth every penny to fly up there.”
“Have you done that before, flown off to see a concert somewhere?”
“Never. As a matter of fact, I’m in the middle of budgeting for next quarter. I’ve never gone absent in the midst of number crunching.”
“You’re committed to the orphanage.”
“The boys have become my life.”
“I don’t want to ask.”
“You want to know if I’ll ever go home again?” Jimmy nodded. “Not for good unless something happens with my work here. I try to get to the States once a year at Christmas or Easter, so far so good. I miss my parents. They’ve been over a few times, but it’s getting harder for them. So, I make the trip.”
“How long do you stay?”
“A couple of weeks. Then I miss the boys and hurry back. What will you do when you return to New York?”
“Step one is to get a new band together. Well, not exactly new. I already have a drummer and lead guitar. I’ll break-in a harmonica player who just signed on. That leaves keyboard and bass. I’ll run a few auditions and see who’s best.”
“After that?” She showed acute interest.
“Lot’s of practice. I start touring in a month. The album will be released ahead of that. Interviews, radio promos, the whole package.”
“It sounds very exciting.”
“I’m coming off a good reception here. I hope it will be same back home.”
They talked for an hour. At times they laughed, gradually shedding the tenseness that started the evening. He reached across and clutched her hand whenever he had something witty or important to say. She accepted his touch, returning it with the same comfort they’d enjoyed on the walk through Fitzroy Gardens. It was natural and familiar. Shortly after eleven Jimmy rose and went to the bar to pay the bill. Les waited until he came back.
“Let’s take a walk,” he offered, reaching for her hand.
“Where?”
“Secret place.” He led her through the lobby. It was quiet. A young woman, deeply concentrated on a hidden screen behind the counter, did not seem to notice as they passed her station. He turned a corner into a small vestibule fronting on an array of elevators leading to the upper floors. Les stopped when she saw them, but she did not take her hand from his.
“I can’t.”
“I need you, Les.”
“Jimmy, don’t…”
“It can’t just end.”
“No.”
“I don’t want to be without you.”
“Please, you’re making this too hard.”
“Haven’t you ever felt this way before?”
He pulled her close. The kiss was desperate, filled with longing like he needed to be reminded of how it felt sometime long ago. Then the elevator opened without warning. Les pulled away just as a young couple emerged. They paused for a moment then hurried past. He waited for them to round the corner then took hold of Les again.
“Give me a chance.”
“Wait for you even if you never come back?” She drew away. “I can’t do it.” Her lips trembled. Tears gathered in her eyes. “I’ll say it. I’ve never wanted to be with anyone more in my life, but I can’t have you. You belong to a different world, other people.”
“Les…”
“Jimmy stop.” She touched her fingers to his lips, forcing him to keep silent. “You
must go and I must stay.”
She kissed his cheek then rushed away through the lobby.
Forty-Three
I met him at his apartment in New York. He looked magnificent. I must admit I got all horny, but no luck. I missed my chance when we were younger. It was the old Jimmy though, confidence back. The interview went well, all the trades picked up my piece. It led to another idea, but that came later. First, he had to show the college crowd he was for real, Buckman, not Button anymore.
- Alice Limoges
He was despondent on the endless flight over the Pacific. Les’ rejection left him in a fog of discontent. Her parting words played in his mind as he tried to picture her face, but he could only visualize her back as she hurried away. The layover in LA was spent sleeping on a couch in the waiting area. Only after he boarded the night owl flight across the continent did he find the resolve to concentrate on what lay ahead. First, he’d do the interview with Alice. Then he’d see Sonny and make a plan for auditions and rehearsals. Benson would be a headache. He’d meet him in Millburn and get his return to the band over with as amicably as possible. He had to call Peggy, too. She’d want to know about Les. Of course, there wasn’t much to say. Over before it had a chance.
Alice breezed in with a flighty air that masked her skill with a pen. She showed him her review of Button’s Back and Blue, which he read with increasing pleasure as her piercing insight captured the essence of each song. To his surprise, she did not dwell on Peg. She concluded the piece with a prediction that his album would go platinum. They talked for two hours. She took notes at a frantic pace, interspersing questions and comments to spur him on. It was an easy flow between two people who had known each other for a long time. At the end, she closed her notebook and sat back on the couch.
“I didn’t write much about Peg because it speaks for itself.”
“Your sister brings out the best in me.”
“Are you straightened out?”
“You tell me.”
“Back and Blue is your best effort by far.”
“Then that’s the answer.”
“It’s all about the music with you? Nothing else matters?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” They talked for another hour before she finally sensed that he had other things to do.
“I’ll send you a copy before the piece goes to print.” At the door she squeezed his arm. “We should have made it that time. I’m still mad at Peggy.”
“You’re better than that.”
“It would have been nice if you had been my first.”
***
Sonny came out of the kitchen. “Back in business?” he asked, as if Jimmy hadn’t been away for over a month.
“We need a bass and keyboards.”
“Benson?”
“I’ll see him first.”
“Best take him so we don’t lose any time.”
Jimmy nodded. “Where’s the harmonica player?”
“Hartford, waiting for your call. I drilled him hard at my place. He’s real good.”
“You’ll have to quit your job.”
“Gave my notice two weeks ago.” Sonny beamed.
Jimmy pulled some papers from his shirt pocket. “I wrote these in Australia.” He passed Les’ handiwork across the table. “There’s a new guy coming over in two weeks. They need some riffs.”
Sonny rifled through the pages. “For you or him?”
“Him.” He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a cassette. “Listen to this first. Lot’s of power so don’t hold back. His voice can handle anything. I have more songs back at the apartment, but they need work before we can set the arrangements.”
Sonny looked up from the songs. “When’s your album coming out?”
“Soon. Then we tour.”
The brain trust met in McCabe’s’ office the next morning. Cindy, Jimmy and Ellis embraced like it was old times. Then they sat opposite McCabe ready to go to work.
“Eleven colleges. Start the day after Labor Day in Maine, end in Miami.” Miles was all business. “I do an interview at WAGZ-FM on Monday. I want to debut the album on the air if the station plays along. Button’s Back and Blue goes into the stores the following week.” He turned to Jimmy. “What’s the schedule on that magazine article?”
“Interview happened yesterday.”
“She’ll write good things?”
“She likes the songs.”
Miles nodded then turned to Ellis. “The Brits’ albums go into the stores at the same time. I took out an ad in two trades to run for a week. Cindy is writing a press release. Maybe some others will pick it up.”
“We need to talk about the tour.” Ellis looked at Jimmy. “You don’t have time to audition new people. The Brits can fill in for now. I think you should use Eugene on bass and Melinda on keyboards.” Jimmy remembered both players. The striking young woman was competent, but he had misgivings about Eugene.
“Eugene is weak.”
Cindy jumped in. “London fixed that.” Jimmy looked to Ellis for confirmation.
“They’re sitting on their hands,” Ellis said. “We’ll search for permanent players later.”
“I have to hear them. We can do it when we’re finished here.”
“Good,” Miles interrupted, “now we still have Button versus Buckman.”
Jimmy looked up in surprise. “That’s already settled.”
“The album’s still called Button’s Back and Blue. Do we take Button off?”
Cindy turned to Jimmy. “You’re known as Jimmy Button.”
“I’m Jim Buckman in Australia. It didn’t hurt sales over there.”
“It’s risky, Jimmy.”
“I want my real name.”
“Jimmy…” Cindy wanted to argue.
“It’s okay.” Ellis chimed in, touching Jimmy’s sleeve. “You’re Jim Buckman.” He leaned past Jimmy to address Cindy. “It’s a fresh start for all of us. Blossom is going to take precedence over everything else. We hit the road as Blossom Presents and make that the story.”
Jimmy wasn’t sure. “No headliner?”
Miles stepped in. “You’re the headliner. The British groups play parts of their albums. You play all of Back and Blue. I’ll take Button off the cover tomorrow.”
Ted Lynch arrived from Hartford just in time to catch Jimmy in the studio with Eugene and Melinda. He was a square, husky twenty-five year old with short brown hair and an eager smile. He wore a suede vest and blue jeans with a thick belt and a huge western style brass buckle. He looked the part of a rock musician. Jimmy told him to plug his harmonica into the studio sound system while he ran Eugene through some of the chords from Peg.
Eugene was nervous, but quickly satisfied Jimmy with his skills. After a lengthy run through, he brought Melinda into the mix, pressing her to kick up the tempo to be sure Eugene could keep pace. In the middle of one of the songs Lynch brought his harmonica to his mouth and flawlessly slid in. He took over from Melinda as Jimmy signaled Eugene to stop. Sonny came through the door just as Lynch drove the harmonica to its highest pitch. He closed the door carefully and came up beside Jimmy to listen. They both knew an extra dimension had just been added.
***
The meeting with Benson started uncomfortably, at least for Jimmy. Benson showed no self-consciousness at all. In fact, he was completely relaxed and even complimentary, a side he rarely showed.
“Heard the album. Best thing you’ve done since we all got together.”
“Thanks.” Jimmy accepted the compliment warily.
“When do we start rehearsals?”
“What happened to your band?”
“Oh, that was just an idea. I never really expected to go it alone.”
“Mitch and Ralphie?”
Benson grinned. “We had a falling out. They wanted too much money. Ungrateful, if you ask me. Anyway they’re gone. Good riddance, they couldn’t play worth a damn.”
Both men knew this was a lie. Jimmy recruited them on the stre
ngth of their play. It was only after Benson returned from rehab that things became strained. He bullied Mitch and Ralph into defiance, driving a wedge into the band with Jimmy and Sonny on one side and those three on the other. Jimmy’s almost constant drunkenness didn’t help. It was only because he recognized his own complicity that he was meeting with Benson today.
“Too bad, I could use them.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, they’re gone. Got any others lined up?”
“I’m working on it.”
“So, I’m asking, when do we start?” Benson fidgeted impatiently.
“I did some auditions before you came in. Tomorrow we’ll run through the songs and make a final decision. If all goes well, we start rehearsals the next day.”
“I’ll be here.” He got up, preparing to leave.
“Hold on.”
“What else?”
“We didn’t exactly part on good terms in Atlantic City.”
Benson sat down again. “I told the suit it was just a misunderstanding and that’s all it was. It was a bad night all around.”
“If this is going to work it has to end here.”
“How’s it going with the booze?”
“Under control. And you? Are you still clean?”
“I’m doing fine.”
“We don’t have to be friends, but we do have to cooperate.”
“No problem for me.”
“Okay. Fresh start day after tomorrow.”
Benson stood to leave then turned back. “One other thing.” Jimmy looked at him, wary once again. “I got a friend named Chase. He’s been a roadie with lots of bands. Available now. We can use him.”
“Talk to Ellis.”
“Ellis? What’s he got to do with it?”
“He’s handling the logistics for the tour.”
“Still your agent?”
“That, too. We’re all dual tasking.”
“Okay.”
The desire to call Les permeated his idle moments. Was their separation final? In the midst of his preparations he found it hard to concentrate. Only the music gave him satisfaction. Otherwise, he felt lonelier than at any other time in his life. He was accustomed to being alone. Often he welcomed it. Now, the few hours of solitude, away from rehearsals and preparations, were empty. He missed her. In his apartment he stared at the telephone. The distance separating them was too great. Les was right. It still hurt.
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