AT 29

by D. P. Macbeth

  Prattle broke from the back of the room. Fanny Holmquist slowly rose from her chair and waited for it to end. She tapped Jimmy on the shoulder before she spoke.

  “I know each of you,” she said, turning to the room. “We all miss Sister Marie. We come each year and spend our money because of her, for her boys. I have also come to know that Leslie, who stands in her place, is every inch the measure of that great woman. I have learned that she is single-handedly keeping Saint Malachy’s functioning. She, for all her youth, is maintaining the standard for which our orphanage is held in such high regard. Yes, our orphanage, yours and mine. I have visited Sister Marie many times in the weeks since she became ill. She cannot speak, but even before her incapacitation she told me that her beloved boys could not survive without the young woman you so rudely ignore tonight. And, now, thrown into a role she did not seek and facing the kind of dismissal that only wealthy, egocentric people like us can so boorishly convey, she is saying enough. Pay attention people! Pay attention before she is driven by anger and frustration to embarrass us all. Leslie asks us to open our hearts. I demand that we open our checkbooks.” She turned to Les and winked. Then she put her hand under Jimmy’s elbow tugging him to stand.

  “While many of you may not know the lovely woman at the podium, you may recognize the man who is her escort this evening. He is Jim Buckman of Back and Blue fame.” Polite applause rose up, followed by a few shouts, signaling recognition. “He flew all the way from New York City, ten thousand miles ladies and gentlemen, just to be with us tonight.” She winked again at a horrified Les. “He did this not for Sister Marie, but for the woman who struggles for our attention at the front of this room. Next month he will be sitting in another place back in America, not unlike this one. Only then it will be on the telly and beamed around the world. He will be waiting to learn if he has won music’s highest honor, a Grammy Award. Obviously, he is very busy, but not so busy that he could not find the time to be here tonight. Not so busy that he could ignore Leslie and the boys of Saint Malachy’s.” She turned to Jimmy. “Will you sing for us?”

  Jimmy looked at Les then at the hundreds in the room, all staring back at him. “It’s up to Les,” he stammered.

  Fanny looked up at the podium. “If he will sing Peg, I am prepared to donate twenty thousand dollars to Saint Malachy’s.”

  “I was saving him for last,” Les lied. “We have many other items to auction off first, including these recent ones that received so little interest.” She waved confidently at the last few items that received no bids.

  “Let’s see them again!” A man shouted from one of the tables.

  Jimmy closed the evening with four songs from Back and Blue. The bidding topped out at fifty thousand dollars. The largest single donation Saint Malachy’s Annual Auction had ever garnered. Peg received a standing ovation. Travis laughed when it was over.

  “Like old times, mate.” They exchanged contact information.

  The next day’s society pages were filled with pictures, many featuring Jimmy arrayed with the biggest names on Melbourne’s social circuit. Leslie was also pictured, a large photo of her at the podium looking poised and lovely, accompanied by a lengthy story describing the successful event.

  Jimmy’s Sunday morning flight was early. He and Les were exhausted after staying up through the night making plans for her return to New York for The Grammy Awards. Despite their impending separation, each was filled with elation. Jimmy slept most of the way back to America, his mind clear and his heart bursting with romantic love for the first time in his life. Les returned to her office at Saint Malachy’s, brimming with newfound confidence and determined to do whatever it took to make their long-distance relationship work.

  Fifty-Three

  “You got a message from a real estate lady. I think somebody wants to buy the house.” George was at the door when Jimmy arrived. They embraced then George carried Jimmy’s suitcase inside. He was matter-of-fact, but Jimmy could tell he had more to say. George brewed some coffee and they took seats at the table in the kitchen.

  “Okay, tell me what happened in Germany,” Jimmy insisted.

  George smiled sheepishly. “She’s still as pretty as the day we met. We picked up right where we left off. I’m goin’ back for good as soon as I can sell the Chevy and make arrangements with my finances.”

  “I want details.”

  “She never met no one else. She went back to school and became a doctor. Then she practiced in Mannheim for all those years whilst I was workin’ at Kendall.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “She told me she figured I hated her since she just up and left. ‘Course, I thought the same on my end since I didn’t want to take her home from Florida. It was a misunderstandin’ with a bad dose a pride.”

  “Did she get your letters?”

  “Yep. Showed me every one tied in pink ribbon. Said she shoulda answered, cried, too.”

  “So you’ll live in Germany?”

  “Long as she’ll have me. Forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  They caught up on everything that happened. George was delighted to learn about Jimmy’s success although he knew nothing about the music business. After a few hours he drove his Impala into Liston and parked it in Hinckley’s lot with a large ‘for sale’ sign. Jimmy followed in the Saab. They had a quick dinner, soon followed by delayed jet lag that sent Jimmy to bed for the night.

  George’s months of work paid off. The real estate agent came by in the morning with an offer.

  “Fastest sale I’ve ever made,” she said, enthusiastically. “That is, if you take the offer. It’s a straight cash deal. Not many of those around, either. This place is pristine. The buyer is anxious to move fast.”

  Jimmy looked at the amount, only a few thousand less than the asking price. He signed the offer sheet. The realtor beamed with pleasure as she exited the front door.

  “I’m sure we can close in a few days. I suggest you make arrangements for the furniture and other things. They want to move in right away.”

  George immediately got on the phone and found takers for nearly everything. Most were used furniture shops and organizations for the needy in Liston. Only a few items had to be discarded. He set about collecting them for a trip to the town dump.

  An offer for the Impala came by phone the next morning. It wasn’t what George expected, but he took it anyway. The car didn’t mean that much to him anymore. Jimmy drove him back to Liston to close the deal. After they removed the plates they drove around the city, finally arriving at the soup kitchen. They went inside for one last look. Some of the volunteers recognized Jimmy and came over to say hello. They grabbed trays and went through the line, then found an empty table to eat.

  “So, you got yourself a girl.” George said, more of a question than a statement.”

  “Yes.”

  “Australia’s a long ways away, worse than Germany.”

  “We’ll make it work. She’s coming back for the Grammy Awards.”

  “Still off the sauce?”

  “Doing fine.”

  “Good. You got a real pickle to deal with.” Jimmy gave him a confused look. “Don’t go doin’ what I done. If she’s the one you gotta be real honest with yourself.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I ain’t sayin’ it’ll be this way, but now that you’re a big star you’ll be gettin’ tugged in a lotta directions. It ain’t gonna be easy for you and it ain’t gonna be easy for her. Sooner or later one of you is gonna be forced into a decision.”

  The closing happened five days later. George stayed at the house while Jimmy went to the bank to sign the papers. By late afternoon, the last pieces of furniture were picked up. Jimmy returned to find George sweeping the floors of the empty rooms.

  “Electricity’s been turned off. Telephone people say the phone gets disconnected tomorrow. Rooms are all empty and clean. I think we’re done here.” J
immy nodded, approvingly.

  George’s flight to Germany was Thursday morning. Jimmy booked two rooms at the airport hotel for the night before. They ate dinner at Faneuil Hall Marketplace. Much of the conversation returned to George’s years at Kendall Academy. He rehashed old stories from the past. Jimmy let him talk while he thought about Les. The next morning they said good-bye at the gate. George hugged Jimmy’s bigger frame with uncommon strength for a man his size and age. When they released there were tears in the older man’s eyes.

  “You gonna be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine, George.”

  “We gotta keep in touch.”

  “I’ve got your number, you have mine.”

  “Stay off the sauce, forget the past and be a friend to everyone you meet.”

  “I will.”

  “All right, then.” George wiped his eyes and stooped to pick up his carry-on. “She’ll be waitin’ at the other end. I’m doin’ the right thing.”

  “Yes, George. Don’t look back.” They shook hands and then he was gone down the ramp onto the plane.

  A day later, Miles studied the check Jimmy slid across his desk. His anger at his star’s unexpected disappearance for two weeks was temporarily stalled. “It means this much to you?” he asked, hiding his surprise.

  “To him and to me.”

  “No strings. Just get the album out?”

  “You’ll make enough to pay me back later.”

  Miles dropped his charade. “Fifty thousand dollars is a big risk.”

  “We both know Yarra will be a hit.”

  “Does he know?”

  “No. I want this to be between you and me.”

  “What do I tell everyone? I mean I’ve cried poor mouth already.”

  “Just say you found the money, got a loan, sold some valuables, whatever.”

  The executive laid the check down on the desk. “This is quite a gesture. And, you have another song to add?”

  “Yes. He said he wants one more for the album. I’ll test it with him today.”

  “Okay. I’ll get to work on this.”

  “I think I have a drummer, too. His name is Travis. He worked my tour in Australia.” Jimmy got up to leave. “I’ll tell Nigel and see what he wants to do.”

  “You have a lot on your plate over the next few weeks.”

  “It’s better than wondering if I’ll ever work again.”

  Whitehurst liked the song instantly. They went into Studio B for three days recording and re-recording dozens of times until Nigel decided he needed Jimmy’s vocals in the background. Late in the afternoon of the third day they summoned Cindy to the control booth and cut a duet, Nigel leading with his fiddle, Jimmy backing his play on the keyboards. For lack of a better name, they called it Number Twelve and had Cindy add it to the end of the masters.

  Yarra was released two weeks later. Mike Winfield got an advance copy and immediately began hyping it on his syndicated morning show. Loren Phillips taped a week’s worth of interviews with the new Australian singer, making sure they were broadcast twice daily on WAGZ. In two weeks the album made the Top 100 and began its steady rise.

  Travis arrived from Melbourne and immediately went into Studio B with Nigel and the rest of his group, assembled from exhaustive auditions supervised first, by Cindy then taken over by Nigel when he could no longer stand someone else being in charge. Cindy took no offense. After hearing Yarra for the first time, everyone respected Whitehurst’s need to do things his way.

  Jimmy went into Studio A to rehearse with his team. The layoff since Christmas showed. This would be live television. He didn’t want any flubs. At night he and Les talked for hours on the phone. He knew the bills would be astronomical. She reminded him of this everytime their conversations extended into the wee hours on the east coast. It was afternoon on her end. Occasionally, she worried that she might be neglecting her duties at the orphanage, but she found it too hard to end the conversations.

  The brain trust met weekly on Tuesday mornings. Ellis dominated with ideas for the national tour.

  “We need to be out the door fast, right after the Grammys. No matter what happens, Jimmy’s going to be red hot. Rebellion will be in demand, too, especially if Kate gets an award.” He licked his lips looking at Miles. “We have to figure Whitehurst into the mix.”

  Miles returned his look. “He warms the crowd for Jimmy. That’s what I’ve decided.”

  “Yarra’s already on the charts. If it really takes off it’ll take away from Back and Blue and Jimmy’s star power.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I don’t know yet. Weak Knees might be a better fit for Whitehurst. That’s all I’m saying. Jimmy will be strong enough to carry full houses everywhere he goes. Maybe put MacGregor with him.”

  McCabe noticed when Cindy nodded. “You agree with Ellis?”

  “The Riland Brothers need more time. We can’t wait.”

  “So who goes out with Rebellion?”

  Jimmy cut in looking at Cindy. “What’s wrong with the Riland Brothers?”

  “Hit a wall, just like the Brits.”

  “Can I help?”

  “You don’t have the time,” Miles protested. “You have too much riding on a good performance at the awards.”

  Jimmy ignored his boss. “Serious problems or just some tweaking like before?”

  “Sibling rivalry, Jeff and Randy can’t agree on anything.”

  Jimmy turned to Miles. “You should read them the riot act like you did to me.”

  Cindy nodded. “They’re immature. It’s like herding cats.”

  “Any weaknesses in their play?”

  “No.” She brightened. “Musically sound. Just a lot of shouting.”

  “Put them with me. That is, if Miles raises hell and puts them on a tight leash.”

  Ellis shook his head. “I don’t know, Jimmy.”

  Miles listened silently as the debate continued. He had new respect for Jimmy and fully recognized that his star moneymaker’s offer to take on the kids from California was one more nod toward making Blossom Records successful. He was proving to be a team player. Miles wanted to return the favor. He raised his hand to quiet the conversation.

  “I’ll talk to them.”

  ***

  Mike Winfield accepted Miles invitation to meet at his office in Millburn. The timing was good. He had an idea for Jimmy’s tour, but he intended to fulfill the executive’s request first. That might give him the leverage to get his ideas a hearing.

  “What’s my role?” he asked, as they waited for the Riland brothers to arrive.

  “I’ll do the talking. You be visible so they know I mean business.”

  “What’s the issue?”

  “Two kids acting stupid when they’re on the verge of a little success.”

  Jeff and Randy bounded into the office, trailing an older man. They were dressed in jeans and tee shirts and immediately plopped onto the couch without so much as a nod in Miles’ direction. The older man, their agent, Jeremy White, remained standing, studying the back of Mike Winfield with interest as if assessing the purpose of the meeting. Then he nodded to Miles and took the upholstered chair nearest to his clients.

  “So why are we here?” Jeff demanded, impetuously.

  “Yeah, what’s up boss?” mimicked Randy.

  Miles didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to his credenza, retrieved a portable tape player and brought it onto his desk. Then he looked up at the boys, Randy twenty, Jeff twenty-two. He stared at each of them for a moment then turned his attention to Jeremy White.

  “How much do you know about me?” he asked.

  White seemed taken aback by this unexpected question. “Your new to the business, but learning fast and showing real success. I told the boys they’re fortunate.”

  Miles twitched in satisfaction. “That’s a good start.”

  Then he turned to Jeff who was the bolder of the two young rockers. “You two are having a hard time working together.”<
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  Jeff gave his younger brother a look. “We can handle it.”

  “By March when the tour starts?”

  All three of the visitors sat up in their seats. “We’re going on tour?” Jeff asked.

  “That depends on your attitudes.”

  “What do you mean, Miles?” White leaned forward cupping his hands.

  “Ask your clients.”

  “Jeff, Randy? What’s he talking about?”

  “Me and Jeff are having our disagreements,” Randy answered. “He’s playing the big-shot.”

  “You don’t know a thing about music!” Jeff shot back.

  “The band belongs to both of us,” Randy emphasized.

  “Your album is three weeks behind schedule.” Miles held up a sheaf of papers. “I’ve got four groups and a single that need the studios and you two delinquents are holding things up.”

  “These things take time.” White glanced at Winfield, who remained quiet with his back to the young musicians.

  “My reports say there’s nothing wrong with the musicianship or the material. Just a couple of wise guys who can’t get along gumming things up.”

  “What’s this about a tour?” Jeff asked, impatiently.

  Miles ignored him and turned to Jeremy White again. “Do these stupid clients of yours have a good lawyer?”