AT 29 (88 page)

The morning air was cool, but the rising sun promised warmth as it cast rays of light across the cobblestones. Les talked to Nicky in soothing tones as they made their way to the bench that had become their special place. She held a new book in her hand, one of those thin children's books with brightly colored pictures on each page above the words. This book was about whales, blue whales that once filled the waters of the Southern Ocean. She found it in the library by chance when she was searching for more stories about puppies, but this one captured her imagination. She knew about whales and whaling ships. It was her special interest about which she'd written her Masters thesis. If Nicky had questions she could paint word pictures for him.

They read the story together, stopping on each page so Les could point to the pictures and encourage his interest. To her delight, he showed true excitement. He dipped his head close to each page, studying it and then looking up to her as she explained what he saw. When it was finished, he begged her to read it again, another breakthrough she jumped to fulfill, anxious to maintain his concentration. After the second reading, he took the book from her hands and squeezed it to his chest. Then he looked up at her and smiled. Les' heart melted. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him to her breasts, kissing his cheeks and rocking him gently with a kind of love she had never known before.

***

The Chicago show enjoyed the kind of warm summer night that only those who called the city home could understand. With the one exception of Jimmy coming onstage ahead of Nigel, it followed the same format as the first Blossom Presents extravaganza in LA. The bigger Illinois crowd rocked the stadium from song to song, urging each band to kick up the sound and jam long and loud. By now, Jimmy was accustomed to the reverie. It no longer astounded him to be cheered on as he sang each word, but he enjoyed it just the same. The other groups were veterans now, just like him. The Riland Brothers Band and Danny MacGregor each had their own followings, a raucous young cadre of youth that screamed in unison at the top their lungs each time one of their well-known riffs bounded through the speakers. Rebellion, with Kate out front, was an established draw. Their separate shows, now traversing mid-America, rivaled the crowds Jimmy drew.

But it was Whitehurst and
Yarra
that overshadowed all the others in Blossom's stable. An orchestra backed him now, just as Jimmy once suggested to McCabe when they talked by telephone from Australia. It was a natural complement to the big Australian's brilliant vocals. Violins, horns, flutes and kettledrums slid in seamlessly behind Nigel's lead, whether he was singing one of Jimmy's creations or energetically running his bow across the strings of his fiddle. Everyone marveled at Whitehurst's progress to stardom. He held the fifty thousand onlookers in the palm of his hand, as good a live performer as any of them had ever seen. When the show was over the crowd did not leave immediately. Instead, they stood and cheered, gradually slipping over the railings and onto the field where they approached the massive stage and mingled in celebration of the summer night.

Jimmy called Les from his changing room. She wasn't always available to take his calls like before. He understood. She was busy now that she'd taken over for Sister Marie, but he longed to hear her voice. Apart from a few hours with Travis and Eugene, he knew his only path was back to the rented house in Oakton just outside the city. There, to sit alone as he waited for her to call him back. Tonight he'd have to wait again. He left a message.

Kate strode into the changing room, taking no notice of Travis and Eugene who were half naked as they changed into their street clothes. She made straight for Jimmy as he hung up the phone.

“I need a date,” she announced, slipping her arm into his. “Party's at Winfield's digs.”

“No thanks,” Jimmy demurred.

“Not the right answer,” she said, smiling. “I need to make a man jealous.”

Jimmy thought about the offer for a moment. He stopped going to Winfield's parties when they were traveling together. Now that the DJ was moving around the country with Nigel, he'd heard the parties were getting more rowdy, but Kate's invitation suddenly made him realize he didn't want to be alone. Waiting for Les to return his call was less appealing than a chance to mix and mingle with familiar faces.

“I'm not easy.” he joked, moving toward the door.

“I said a date. You're taken, but that doesn't mean you can't be seen with me.”

Winfield had his arm around Alice when he met them at the door, a half empty bottle of vodka in his other hand. Jimmy looked from one to the other, recognizing instantly that they were both stoned. The DJ waved them in, pulling back from the entry and guiding a dreamy Alice, clearly unable navigate on her own.

“You okay?” Jimmy asked, as he brushed by. Alice looked at him with a silly, uncomprehending smile.

“She's fine,” Winfield slurred. “Just getting started. Booze is over there.” He pointed to a table at the far side of the room. “Better stuff in that room.” He pointed to a closed door to his left. “See Chase if you want something.”

Jimmy surveyed the big room. An unseen stereo was playing
Yarra
loudly. Dozens of people were milling about with drinks and joints in hand. He recognized some of the young women Winfield hired for the show. They were dancing with some men he didn't know in black leather jackets. Benson and Chase were by the bar, talking to two very young girls. Jimmy was sure they were underage. All of the bands were also scattered around the room, all that is, except the core of Jimmy's band. Sonny, Ted, Melinda, and Eugene were absent. Travis was holding hands with a girl and talking to the Riland brothers in a corner.

***

Ellis sat with Miles in his Millburn office. They watched the television screen where a video was playing. The agent was mildly irritated to be re-routed away from the Chicago show. McCabe called at the last minute, insisting that he change his flight and get back to New Jersey as quickly as possible. The video was a surprise to both of them, a full rendition of the LA Blossom Presents concert, professionally done and slickly packaged.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, staring at the screen.

“Alan Sanchez, the kid from MTV. He said he picked it up in London last week. He wanted to know if I'd license it for the network's debut in few months.”

“I didn't know you taped the show.”

“I didn't.”

“So, who?”

“No clue. Copies are selling for twenty bucks in London, possibly in other cities.”

“Somebody's making money off Blossom Presents.”

“Looks like it.” McCabe picked up the remote and turned the television off.

“I'm smelling another lawsuit.” Ellis turned to look at McCabe.

“First, we've got to get them out of the stores. I need to know who's behind it.”

“Who else knows?”

“You, me and Sanchez.”

Ellis waved his hand. “What's it got to do with me?”

McCabe opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a document. He handed it to Ellis. “Here's a cease and desist order. I want you to go over there and deliver it to every outlet that's carrying this video. Collect every copy that you find and track down whoever is behind it.”

“I think I already know.”

“Winfield?”

“You bet.”

“That's what I want to know for sure.”

“What about the tour?”

“I'll send Cindy out with Rebellion until you get back.”

Ellis didn't mind. He liked London. “When do you want me to leave?”

“Today.”

***

A tall, good-looking guy who spotted her the second she came through the door, carried Kate away. It was clear they knew each other by the way she smiled and let him take her hand. Jimmy watched them move off then searched the room for a sign of Nigel. Smoke from an assortment of joints and cigarettes obscured his view, but just as he was about to give up, the door to the room Winfield had pointed out opened slightly and he noticed a group of people inside. He pulled the door wide to find another smaller party underway among several couples. Jimmy noticed three tough looking men, also in black leather jackets and heavy boots, standing in the center, each with one of Winfield's hired girls draped over his shoulder. The men were boisterous with a hard look, but one of them noticed Jimmy and beckoned him inside.

“C'mon in. We got anything you need, booze, coke, girls. You name it.”

Jimmy crossed into the room and was immediately hooked by a strikingly attractive woman in her late twenties wearing a blue micro skirt with a white see through blouse and no bra.

“I'm Tammy,” she said, with a bright smile as she tightened her arm inside the crook of his elbow. “I've wanted to meet you for a long time.” For a brief second, Jimmy felt a rush of desire. He wanted to have a good time. Tammy looked like the perfect segue to a night of pleasure. The three bikers looked on approvingly as Tammy pulled Jimmy deeper into the room. “What are you in the mood for?” she asked, inviting him to follow her eyes around the room to a table set up with dozens of bottles of liquor. Then she nodded to another smaller table with a jar of white powder, a box of cigarette papers and a tray with a large mound of pot.

Just then, Nigel stood up at the back of the room. He had two women, one on each side, hovering close and laughing as he rubbed his nose and blinked his eyes as if rising from slumber. The bikers let out a roar of laughter when they saw him. “Over here, mate.” They mocked in a futile attempt to mimic an Australian accent. Whitehurst acknowledged their hail then spotted Jimmy and grinned. He hurried over with the two women hanging close.

“Gidday, mate,” he said, taking Jimmy's hand and shaking it in an exaggerated way like they hadn't seen each other for a long time.

Tammy leaned close to Jimmy's ear. “Likes the powder.”

He didn't need her explanation. He could see the signs as Nigel rocked on his heels, using the bodies of the two women at his side to steady himself. Jimmy
disentangled from Tammy and took the Australian by the arm, guiding him away from the girls to a corner and two empty chairs. Once seated, he met Nigel's gaze with a question.

“How long have you been doing coke?” The question caught Whitehurst off-guard. He looked at Jimmy like an accuser before softening his facial muscles.

“Chase and his mates bring it in. Better than magic green.”

“How long?”

“I don't know. Since Benson and Mike came onboard. What's the difference?”

“Benson had a problem with it. Looks like you're headed in the same direction.”

“No, no worries, a few snorts, nothing more.”

“How often?”

“Are you a lawyer? I said no worries. Let's just have a good time.”

Jimmy decided to let it go. He wasn't in the mood to act as a judge. He looked up and saw Tammy and the other girls watching them. They came over. Nigel stood to make the introductions.

“I see you've met Tammy. This is Bridget and next to her is Victoria.”

The girls nodded with a smile then slid in next to Nigel like before, this time hooking their arms in his like Tammy had done when Jimmy entered the room.

“Let's drink and dance.” Bridget said, giving Tammy a signal to head to the table with the bottles. Tammy extended her hand to Jimmy.

“What do you say?”

Her long slender legs, tanned and toned, were eyelevel as he sat. He rose and took her hand. Thoughts of Les failed to enter his mind as Tammy led him to the array of liquor bottles on the table. Nigel followed with Bridget and Victoria.

Les called the number Jimmy left for her six times. She let it ring each time, wondering where he could be. She knew it was the wee hours of the morning in the U.S. It never mattered before. He always answered when she called.

He awoke the next day at two in the afternoon, fully clothed on top of the bed with the familiar searing headache pounding away at his temples. He had no memory of what transpired. If Tammy had been there he couldn't tell. The house was empty except for his things tossed on the floor and in his open suitcase. The Gibson leaned against the wall. He spent the rest of the afternoon nursing his hangover. Then he gathered his belongings, called a taxi and headed for the airport to catch a flight to San Antonio for the next night's gig. He had three more scotches before the plane landed.

***

Money poured into the accounts of everyone associated with Blossom Records. Mike Winfield's prediction that the tours would bring in ten million proved to be wrong. The trajectory outlined in McCabe's charts looked more like double that amount. Record sales went another twelve and offers flooded the executive offices from around the world. Everyone knew there would be more albums and a bigger world tour in another year. Six new groups were busy in the studios. McCabe had it all planned out, offerings from fresh new talent every two months, a steady stream of moneymakers all sharing the magic Blossom Presents formula and anchored by the established stars; Buckman, Whitehurst and Kate.

Miles had plans to go global. He saw the opportunity when Weak Knees, not quite accepted in America, took off big on the continent. If this was possible then there had to
be other markets where local talent could be found, nurtured and turned into regional stars. Asia, South America, Europe, he was sure he could make a niche for Blossom in all those places and more. The outline of a corporate structure demanded his attention. Fortunately, he had the managerial talent, or at least some of it right under his nose, Cindy for one, his new wife with an ear for what would sell and the ability to bring it along, and Ellis. Although the smart black man fancied himself an agent, McCabe's lifelong business experience knew better. Ellis was a visionary, like himself, with the executive skills and hard edge to make those visions come alive. He played with numbers on a scratch pad. The Americas, Europe and Asia-Pacific. Those would be Blossom's three operating regions. He'd establish a presence in the major cities with studios, production facilities and talent scouts, lot's of knowledgeable experts paid well to find the next big stars to keep Blossom on top. Thirty million! Jeez only eight months after he'd almost lost it all he was spurning buyout offers as high as thirty million from the biggest corporations in the industry. Sell? Never! Miles Michael McCabe was just getting started.