Off the Record

by Rose, Alison

  Kate held out her clenched hand and opened it to reveal two bedraggled pieces of paper. ‘They’re right here.’ She checked her watch. They had plenty of time. ‘Now, what do you say that we get in there and find ourselves a bar? I could do with another drink after that little episode.’

  ‘Good idea, but I’ll settle for something non-alcoholic. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night!’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Kate laughed, once again linking arms with her. ‘The night has only just begun!’

  Alex laughed, acknowledging that this was undoubtedly going to be a night to remember.

  By the time they arrived at their front row seats, Kate was amused to see her mother’s eyes were shining with excitement.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m here! Do you realise, I haven’t seen Johnson perform live since the end of the seventies? Even then I knew he had a special gift. He just had to sing and the whole world listened.’ She glanced at Kate and gave her a sheepish grin. ‘That sounded a bit over the top, didn’t it?’

  Kate laughed. ‘It sounds incredible. He must’ve been really special.’

  ‘Oh, he was,’ she responded. ‘I remember hearing him singing in school productions, and playing with his band at high school dances. In the end, he stopped auditioning for the shows so that some of the other kids could have a chance at the lead roles.’

  And he’d refused to play all night at the dances too, so that he could dance with his girl. Johnson had told Kate that much.

  ‘Wasn’t he discovered while he was still at school?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. The music teacher persuaded his parents to let him enter a talent contest run by a local TV station. One of the producers had a brother who worked for a record company in California. He sent him Johnson’s audition tape, and before he’d sung his first song on the show he was being offered a record deal. It was incredible! Johnson was hailed as “the Next Big Thing”. The new Elvis, even.’

  ‘Elvis? But Johnson isn’t anything like him.’

  ‘No, of course not. It was silly really, but Elvis had recently died, and they were all looking for the new King. Oh!’

  The lights dimmed, and Kate felt the tension in the arena tighten around her heart. ‘It’s starting!’

  It was obvious from her expression that Alexandra hadn’t expected a support act.

  ‘Mum, relax. This band is really good.’

  Alex jumped when Kate squeezed her arm gently. ‘Oh Lord, I’m such an idiot,’ she groaned. ‘I’ve got to calm down otherwise I’m going to have a heart attack.’

  Kate laughed. Her reply was lost as the band struck the first note and sound exploded all around them.

  Backstage, Johnson was straining to see around his son, who was peeking from his vantage point behind a screen.

  ‘Can you see them? Are they there?’ He had to lean in close to Paul’s ear to be heard.

  ‘Yeah I see ’em. Man, that woman is hot! And her mom’s not bad for an old broad,’ he teased.

  Johnson laughed and leaned back against the wall. ‘I guess I’m in a bad way, huh?’

  ‘And over a middle-aged woman. You’re a hopeless case, old man.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, I can’t remember ever being so anxious,’ he admitted. ‘Sandy is right out there in the first row! The last time I sang for her was in my folks’ basement in Indiana. She cried.’ He took a deep breath, moved by the memory. ‘I asked her to go to California with me. She said no. I realise now how unfair I was. She really had no choice. Her grandma needed her, and her student visa was about to expire. She had to leave whether she wanted to or not.’

  ‘Must’ve been tough on both of you.’

  ‘Yeah. If I hadn’t been so damned arrogant, perhaps we might have survived – a year wasn’t so long. But no, I yelled and demanded. All or nothing. I ended up getting my heart stomped on and hurting her in the process.’

  ‘Hey, Dad. It was a long time ago.’ Paul was disturbed by his father’s passion. He’d never talked about it before, and for him to open up now, when there were thousands of people out there, all waiting to see the great Johnson Brand … Oh hell.

  ‘Yeah, son, I know. And now is not the time to dwell on it, huh?’

  ‘What, now you’re a mind reader?’ he laughed. Paul peeked through the curtains one last time and smiled as he saw both women singing their hearts out to the chorus of the support band’s latest single. Kate Armstrong drew him like a magnet. The past week had been the hardest seven days of his life. He had played his part well, when all he really wanted to do was fling her over his shoulder and carry her off to bed. But his dad had been right. He needed to think very carefully before he exposed a sweet thing like Kate to his world. And she was sweet. He’d checked her out thoroughly, unwilling at first to believe that any journalist could be as open and honest as Kate Armstrong. She was either the genuine article or a real good hustler. A shame, because dealing with a hustler, no matter how attractive she was, was a damned sight easier than keeping his hands to himself. Talking to his dad last week had shaken him. In the absence of any evidence to the contrary, he had to treat Kate with kid gloves, and every day that went by convinced him that she wouldn’t last more than five minutes in his world.

  But his dad looked like he was ready to forget the complications and risk his heart. Paul had never seen him so keen to pursue a woman, despite paying lip service to the dangers. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. If Johnson and Sandy, or Alexandra or whatever she was called, did get together, that would throw him and Kate closer together. Could he resist her? Did he want to? Before he had the chance to think about it, the guitar technician grabbed their attention.

  ‘Hey, Bob,’ Johnson greeted him. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Guys, we got a problem. Greg’s missing.’

  ‘What do you mean missing?’ Paul asked. The band’s lead guitarist had been with his dad for years. He’d never let them down before. ‘He’s probably in the john.’

  ‘Nope. He’s not here. I just got an SMS from him saying he had an emergency and couldn’t stay for the gig.’

  ‘But he was here a half hour ago!’ Johnson argued. ‘What the hell’s going on? Have you called him?’

  ‘Yeah. No answer. Sorry, Boss. I’ll keep trying, but you’re on stage in fifteen minutes, so unless he’s around here somewhere there’s no chance of him being here on time.’

  ‘If this is a joke …’

  ‘Shit, do I look like I’m joking? If I knew where he was I’d go get him myself!’

  Paul swore in frustration.

  ‘OK. So he’s got a problem,’ Johnson held up his hands. ‘And so have we. If he’s not here, we need a lead guitarist and fast.’

  Paul glared at Bob. ‘You’ll have to do it,’ he said. Bob backed away shaking his head.

  ‘No way, man! There’s a good reason I’m a tech – there’s not a chance in hell I could play like Greg. And you still need me back here to do my job.’

  He was right, dammit! His dad and the other guitarists changed instruments throughout the set, each guitar being tuned for a particular song or sound.

  ‘Well, what the hell are we going to do? Without a lead guitarist we’ll have to cancel.’

  ‘No. That’s not gonna happen, son,’ Johnson shook his head. ‘We’re not about to let all these folks down.’

  Paul looked at his father and swore again. Johnson nodded, a small smile playing across his features.

  ‘Dad, don’t do this. It’s a crazy idea.’

  ‘It’s a perfect idea,’ he countered. ‘Come on, Paul, you know all the songs. Hell, you …’

  ‘Dad,’ he growled, desperate to shut him up before he said too much. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Bob, his panic becoming more obvious by the second. ‘A full house and we have to tell ’em to go home? They’ll riot!’

  Johnson put a hand on the technician’s shoulder. ‘It’s OK, Bob. Go check everything’s ready. Give us a couple of minut
es.’

  Paul took the initiative as soon as Bob was out of earshot. ‘Dad, don’t ask me. Let me go find Greg. ‘

  ‘There’s no time for that, son, and you know it. Just like you know it’s time to let go of the past.’

  ‘That’s a low blow, old man!’ he snapped, angry that his father should bring it up now. ‘And with your old girlfriend out there, I don’t see how you have the balls to talk to me about letting go of the past!’ He wanted his dad to get mad, was ready for a fight. But he didn’t, dammit. He just looked at him, his eyes full of regret and compassion.

  ‘I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right. But I need you, Paul. There’re thousands of people out there, including that old girlfriend of mine. And I don’t want to let any of them down.’

  Paul felt as though someone had tied a rope around his heart and was pulling it tighter and tighter. He knew he had no choice, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t fight it a little longer. ‘What if I can’t do it? What if I get out there and I just can’t do it?’

  Johnson smiled. ‘You know, son, I ask myself those same damn questions every time I stand in the wings waiting to walk on stage.’

  ‘Yeah, right! Like you ever had a problem struttin’ your stuff out there.’

  ‘I’m not kidding. Every time is like the first time. I stand there waiting to go on and wonder if I’ll ever be able to move again. But then I hear the music, and everything’s OK. Just like I know you’ll be OK too, son. Because that music is as much a part of you as it is of me.’

  Paul couldn’t help feeling pleased by his father’s faith in him, even when he was in turmoil over what he was being asked to do. The music was something that had always brought them together, even when he was a kid and living with his mom most of the time. Music was his life, just like it was his dad’s.

  But he’d chosen to stay off the stage for a reason, and for the first time he was being asked to make a different choice. His dad needed him. Did he need to cling to his old fears more than he needed to be there for his dad? He took a deep breath. ‘You sure about this?’ he asked.

  ‘I sure am,’ his father smiled.

  Paul let out his breath on a long sigh. ‘OK. Let’s do it.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  The lights went up and the place erupted. As the band filed onto the stage, Kate watched with concern as her mother went pale.

  ‘Mum, are you OK?’ she shouted over the roar of the crowd.

  Alex blinked, then let out the breath in a rush. ‘Now I know how Johnson felt when he saw you,’ she leaned over and said into Kate’s ear. ‘It’s like stepping back through time.’

  Kate shook her head in confusion, hearing but not understanding her mother’s words. Despite looking shaky and sick, Alex smiled to reassure her, and mouthed ‘I’m fine,’ just as Kent, the bass player reached the microphone.

  ‘Hey Manchester! How y’all doin?’ he yelled. The noise level rose as the crowd responded.

  The hairs rose on the back of Kate’s neck. Something’s wrong! Kent didn’t usually do the intro – Greg, the lead guitarist did. She scanned the stage and her eyes collided with Paul’s. For a moment their gazes connected, then he looked down, adjusting the strap of the guitar he’d just picked up.

  He looked up again, and she mouthed, ‘Where’s Greg?’ Grim-faced he shrugged and checked that his lead was connected to the right amplifier.

  He fiddled with his earpiece, wincing a little when Kent yelled again, ‘You here for a good time?’

  The roar grew. Kate didn’t know whether it was around her or inside her head. What was going on? Paul never played in public! She had no doubt he could do it. She didn’t know why she knew that, but she did. She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile and a double thumbs up. He turned away, concentrating fiercely on checking his equipment, preparing himself.

  Something’s not right. He’s not happy about this. What on earth is going on?

  ‘Who you wanna see?’ Kent teased the audience, whipping everyone up into an even louder frenzy.

  Kate barely registered the hysteria. All her focus was on Paul. Next to her, her mother covered her ears as the frenzied spectators began to chant,

  ‘Johnson! Johnson! Johnson!’

  ‘You wanna see the man?’ Kent yelled above the din.

  ‘Yeessssss!’ came the response, like a tsunami of sound.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls … I give you … JOHNSON BRAND!’

  Paul stood frozen for a split second, paralysed by the myriad of sensations and memories running through his brain. Fear, excitement, anger, and more fear coursed through him, then Mick the drummer raised his arms and tapped his sticks together, setting the beat.

  ‘One, two, three, four!’

  As Mick brought the sticks down and pounded into the first bar of the song, Paul’s fingers found the frets and instinct took over. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the sounds coming in through his earpiece.

  He didn’t see his father walk onto the stage, but felt the change in the air, the overload of excitement as his fans spotted their idol amongst them. Fear spiked. He opened his eyes, bracing himself, even as he continued to play, note perfect. It was as though his mind has split into two – one half functioning perfectly well while the other descended into hell, waiting, expecting something Goddamn awful to happen.

  But everything seemed normal – as normal as it could be when you’re playing to a full arena of screaming, cheering fans. He tensed as his dad moved to the front of the stage. His old man seemed to become someone else in front of an audience. He glowed. He was filled with energy. He loved it. From his vantage point on the stage, Paul could see Kate and her mother out front and centre, separated from the stage by a no-go zone populated by security personnel, and behind crowd barriers.

  Kate looked sideways at the woman beside her, drawing Paul’s attention to her mother. The older woman was totally focussed on Johnson as he approached the mike, slapping Kent on the back as he passed. The arena erupted again as he pulled the microphone from its stand and seemed to head straight towards the woman sitting like a statue in the front row.

  He paused on the edge of the stage, looking down at her. Paul wondered whether he and Kate were the only people in the world to notice, but for a moment it seemed like neither Johnson nor Alex were aware of the noise, of the thousands of people crying out to Johnson, of the music heading inexorably towards the first line of the song. For a moment Paul thought his dad was going to miss his cue, but at the last second he raised the microphone and began to sing.

  The next hour and a half was sweet torture for Paul. Just as Johnson had said, the music was a part of him that he couldn’t deny, and it felt good – damned good – to be playing with the band. But that dark part of his soul kept on remembering. Kept on reminding him that this was dangerous and he should run like hell. Every time Bob approached him for a guitar change he asked the same question.

  ‘Where’s Greg? Did he show?’

  He’d have given anything to have been able to hand over to the missing guitarist and walk off the stage. But the answer was always the same.

  ‘No. I’m sorry. But you’re doin’ great, Paul. Hang in there, man.’

  Eventually he stopped asking. He stopped thinking, concentrating on the sound and on a pair of green eyes watching him from the front row.

  Johnson gave the best performance of the tour, pouring his heart and soul into every song. The energy of the crowd seemed to flow into him and he sent it back to them through his voice. He moved around the stage, but Kate could see that he was always aware of her mother, right there in the front row. Just as I can’t help but be aware of his son, standing so still in the background.

  Trying to distract herself, Kate watched her mother again, willing herself to relax, to ignore the feeling that Paul was reaching out to her, needing her

  Alex had been still at first, devouring Johnson with her eyes. Then she’d begun to move, her head, shoulders, ar
ms, matching his rhythms. Finally, she joined the others who couldn’t stay in their seats and stood, swaying and clapping, singing along. Her enjoyment seemed to feed his euphoria.

  The crowd were going crazy. Johnson didn’t seem to see anything but Kate’s mother. No one else seemed to notice. But Kate did. She realised they’d come to the last song in the play list. It was a rousing finale number, guaranteed to get everyone wound up ready to demand an encore.

  But instead, Johnson had a brief word with Paul, who shot a quick glance in her direction and seemed to argue with his father. Kate wished she could lip read – Paul wasn’t happy about something. After a quick exchange, Paul shrugged and said something to Kent and Mick. Within seconds everyone but Johnson had left the stage. The lights dimmed and Johnson stood in a single spotlight. Someone brought him a stool, Bob handed him an acoustic guitar. As he put it on the crowd subsided, waiting.

  ‘I want to thank you all for coming tonight. It’s been a blast.’ They roared their agreement. ‘This is a song I wrote a long time ago.’

  He looked straight at her mother. Kate froze in alarm. She felt lost, excluded from the powerful bond between her mother and the man on the stage.

  He paused, and Kate wondered if he was going to say something else. Instead he bowed his head and began to play. The sweet harmony of his guitar providing a total contrast to the pounding, electric energy that had vibrated around them before.

  ‘This is a song about

  Why I love you

  And feeling as strong as I do

  Emotions like stars across wide horizons

  Knowing that you love me too’

  Kate had never heard this song before, but Alex seemed to recognise it immediately. She sat down, her hands covering her face, leaving just her eyes visible.

  ‘No one’s gonna

  Break this pure love

  And no one’s gonna get in our way

  I will be with you forever

  And my eyes will never stray’

  Kate looked at her mother. Her green gaze, so like her own, filled with tears as Johnson’s voice, slightly rough around the edges, sang out. Kate wanted to cry with her.