AT 29 (108 page)

“I also said what was on my mind. I don't have the feel of a politician. My candor offends people. Plenty of times I was right, but no one cared. I was a pariah to be avoided. It made me a loner. I thought I was better off. I even liked the idea of it. You know what I mean? Nobody close enough to see you sweat. Toward the end of my career, not this one with Blossom, the first one during my first marriage, I came around a little bit. I worked for a decent boss who trusted me. Her name is Myra. We've kept in touch. She's the one who got me involved with Blossom, but I can't say we're close friends. We respect each other.

“Felix is another one. You remember him. He broke up the party in Florida. We became friends toward the end of my first career, too. We lost touch when I retired, but we got back together when I had some work for him. In the beginning, about a year ago, when your tour began, we mixed business with dinners and long conversations about the old days. That's friendship, right?” Miles took another sip and studied Jimmy for a response. “After he fixed the Marvel Island problem for me, I hired him fulltime with a staff. He's there everyday now, reports directly to me. Our relationship is more formal. We don't go out to dinner anymore. It's hard to talk and laugh the way we used to do.

“Listening to everyone today, I'm starting to see friendship in a different light. I still don't get it, but I have more to think about. Maybe the answer will make me a better man. Say, I saw that your refrigerator is empty. Would you like to go grab something to eat? Or, we could bring it in. It will make the scotch go down better.” Jimmy moved for the first time in minutes. He shook his head without speaking. Miles put down his glass,
stood up and went for his coat. “I'll go see what I can find. Maybe you'll change your mind when I get back.”

It was six blocks before he found a place on the corner. He went to the counter and ordered a large take out pizza. He spent the twenty-minute wait talking on a pay phone in the corner. When he returned the apartment was completely dark, except for the low light from the kitchen. Jimmy remained slouched in his chair, clutching the unopened fifth of scotch. It didn't look like he'd moved. McCabe switched on a floor lamp then removed his coat and placed the pizza box on the coffee table. He went into the kitchen and came back with plates and napkins. With a large slice in his hand, he returned to his seat on the couch.

“Now, where were we?” He took a bite, speaking as he chewed. “Friendship, yes. Maybe later. It occurred to me as I was walking back just now,” he swallowed. “I know more about you, but you probably don't know very much about me.” From there, McCabe proceeded to tell Jimmy about his upbringing, his career and his first marriage. The one-way conversation lasted for an hour, interspersed with more slices of pizza and offers to pour a glass of scotch. McCabe filled his own glass with more Jack Daniels, but sipped slowly. Jimmy neither ate nor drank.

“She was the most beautiful woman you ever saw, my first wife. Not the same as Cindy's beauty, but equal. Her heart was solid gold. She could stop me cold in mid-sentence with just a smile. As all lovers are, she was my confidant and my advisor. She understood my weaknesses and she helped me compensate, although she never quite got me to be more diplomatic. After she died I couldn't let her go. It had always been the two of us. No children, she had physical problems.” He stopped briefly to swallow a final bite of pizza.

“You probably wonder why we didn't adopt. That's hard to answer. It occurred to us, but we never acted on it. I think I was her child as well as her husband. It never happened. The secret to our love was talk. We shared everything, no secrets, no long periods of silence harboring an imagined slight or grudge. If we had a problem, we talked it out. If I had a problem, she helped me solve it. If she had a problem, I listened until she decided what to do. In that relationship she was the boss, always two steps ahead of me. I learned early that any solutions I may have thought of, she'd already analyzed three ways to Sunday. Best leave her to help me with mine while she took care of her own.

“I talked to her even after she passed away. I knew she was with me or I hoped it was true. I drank heavily during that time, hearing her scolds. I tried to work through the pain with a succession of dead-end jobs. She helped me get through it. After all, with her gone, work was all I had left. First, I'd speak, and then I would hear her guidance in my mind. I would hear her voice and see her as she was before the cancer, radiant and cheerful. I suppose this is boring. You probably think I'm nuts. In retrospect, I probably was nuts. Losing someone that important instills a kind of craziness. The roots of your existence are torn out, half of you gone. The better half and nothing is the same. How about that drink? The pizza's cold, but I can warm it up for you. What do you say?” Jimmy sat still. Two hours and he hadn't moved.

“Obviously, I don't need to describe Cindy to you. I will say that she changed everything for me. Blossom was good. It kept me busy. It was a fresh start and I was full of ideas. You were the key, although you were dealing with your own problems at the time. Just as well because I needed time to get my act together.

“With my first wife it was love at first sight. With Cindy it was different. Her beauty intimidated me, but if she knew, she never took advantage. During those first months, we worked closely together. I began to have feelings, but I didn't acknowledge them, not even to myself. She was too young for me. I still think that and I worry for her. What happens if I get sick? I'll be an old man in the blink of an eye and there she'll be, a young, beautiful woman stuck with an old guy to take care of.” He stopped briefly, studying the glass in his hand.

“We started sharing dinners, working meals. Gradually, the conversations branched out and that's when I felt the way my first wife made me feel. One night, I told her I was only going to be around long enough to get Blossom ready for sale. It was the way she reacted, like she didn't want me to go. That's when I realized I never wanted to leave. I went out on a limb to buy the label so I could be close to her.

“That's where you come in. Without you and your songs, the Grammy Awards you won, I would have lost it all. I never would have been in a position to marry Cindy.” There was a gap in his monologue. He stopped staring at Jimmy and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Thirty seconds went by before he returned his gaze. Jimmy didn't meet it.

“It's always a woman. They're kinder than men, softer, more perceptive, and wiser in the ways of the world. We need a woman in our lives to make sense of it all. Otherwise, it's a useless waste.” He paused. “She's pregnant.” Jimmy stirred. “You're the first to know. We'll call her sister with the news tomorrow.”

He took a sip, sat back and began again. “I'm ambivalent about having a child. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking. How can anyone feel that way about having a baby? Here's the thing, I just turned fifty-nine. I'll be pushing eighty or pushing up daisies before the kid graduates from college. I'm guilty about all the things I won't be able to do with my child, like playing ball and hiking or skiing. You know what else I'm guilty about? That I spent the first thirty-one years of my adulthood married to another woman and I never saw her with the kind of excitement and pure joy Cindy had on her face when she told me. I've had two magnificent woman in my life and one of them got short-changed.”

Another pause, this time longer as Miles shifted his eyes from Jimmy and appeared to lapse into deep thought.

“I know about Les.” Jimmy lifted his head for the first time. Their eyes met briefly. Then he lowered them again to the bottle in his hands. “I only met her twice, at the Grammy Awards and my wedding. She's a lovely woman. Cindy mentioned a tragedy involving a child at the orphanage in Australia. She said Les disappeared after it happened. I take it you haven't seen her.” He hoped for an answer, but Jimmy didn't speak. Miles changed the subject.

“Nigel is doing well. I spoke to him yesterday. He leaves rehab in another week. He wants to return to Aireys Inlet to test his progress. If all goes well he said he'd be ready to come back to work in a month or two. I'm not so sure. There's no hurry. A fresh start early next year might be better.”

The clock clicked past seven. Both men had been sitting for a long while. That Jimmy hadn't taken a drink was not lost on McCabe, but he didn't know what else to say. He left the couch and took the pizza box, plates and glasses into the kitchen. On his return he walked to the window and looked out at the city lights. He let his eyes drift from building to building and down to the streets where cars inched from block to block.

“I've been speaking with a friend of yours.” He turned from the window. “A fellow from Germany.” Jimmy raised his head, this time peering hard into McCabe's eyes. “He called six weeks ago, looking for you. He said there was no answer here at your apartment, so he called the label, thinking we might tell him how to get in touch.” Jimmy looked away. “You were traveling around the country at the time. I mean I think that's what you were doing. You never told anyone. Anyway, that's what I said to him on that first call. I suggested he call back once a week until you returned then I'd put you in touch.

“He's an interesting guy, rough around the edges, but a real pleasure with that sense of humor of his. Our last call went an hour. He had me laughing most of the time. I called the operator to make sure the charges were reversed, worth every penny.

“He wants to know if you're okay. So far, I've been saying just fine. He's savvy though. I think he sees through my lies. He's aware of your success, but that's not who he really cares about. A Kendall boy, that's what he calls you. I don't know what that means, but that's the person he's calling for. What should I tell him when he calls again?”

No answer.

“Earlier, I told you I was beginning to rethink my views about friendship. Listening to everyone today, Peggy, Cindy, Sonny and the others, one with no ties to the music business, the others working with you and me. It reminded me of what you did for Blossom Records and, of course, that means what you did for me. It started with the time Ellis was ready to leave after I said I couldn't pay anyone for a few months, if ever. You held him back. Then, a little later, you came up with the money so I could release
Yarra
. Kate explained what you did for her at the Beacon Theatre. Nigel told me what you did in Australia, saved his life, he believes, Miami, too, although I don't know exactly what happened. Felix says it's better if I'm in the dark on the details.

“And, today with Peg. You should have seen the way she came into my office, looking for blood. She demanded that we come to her aid, help her help you. That's a real friend. George is also a real friend. I can tell by the way he talks about you.

“So that's the mystery. Peggy was outraged. Cindy was angry, too, at me, mostly. What is it about caring so much for someone that you become enraged when they're hurting? What is this bond that prevents them from walking away? I know the frustration that comes from feeling helpless. I felt it as I watched my first wife waste away, but that was my wife. You're supposed to feel that way when the love of your life is dying right before your eyes. But, a friend, that kind of commitment between people? How special it must be.” He turned away, searching for his coat on the couch. He reached out and picked it up. Then he stood and put the coat over his arm. He took a step toward Jimmy and looked down.

“Everyone wants to be liked, Jim. From the noblest to the most despicable, we all want to be liked by the people we meet. This need can get in the way of saying and doing the right things now and then. I've found that only the toughest among us can see the difference between stalling on principle in order to be liked and keeping this most basic human desire at arms length so right can prevail. In business I've always prided myself on being tough like that. Never more so than in the early months when I was trying to make something of Blossom. I was hard on you and even harder on some of the others I had to let go. Except for lawyers and Cindy I wasn't liked by anyone. That's why this is so hard. When I look at you, I realize I have never wanted to be anyone's friend as much
as I want to be your friend right now. In the next few months, if you do what I'm about to ask, there will be days when you will hate me and I truly don't want that. Call it friendship, the things you have done for Blossom, traveling to Australia, doing that painful interview on that television show, finding Nigel and writing his first songs, fixing what was wrong with Rebellion and Weak Knees, lending me the money to get
Yarra
in the stores, giving Kate her confidence, giving my marriage your blessing, everything you have done for me. Yes, I get it now. I want to be your friend like you've been to me.” He stood still, waiting for Jimmy to acknowledge his presence.

“But, we both have to be tough. Something needs to be addressed and we both know what it is. After, Jim, after we face this problem, when you find your way again, then we'll build our friendship. I promise you that with all my heart.” He reached down and gently took the bottle from Jimmy's hands. “Please son, please come with me.”

***

Early in the morning, Illa positioned his Ute on the other side of B-100, opposite the dusty entrance to Nigel's surf shop. Whitehurst was coming home. The decision was made. His ancestors granted his wish. Once more he had built a fire. Once more he had danced around the flames. This time it was not a dance of thankfulness. Now, he beat his breast and raised his arms in petition until he fell exhausted to the sand and slipped into a trance. Then the answer came, the answer that lifted the burden of generations from his shoulders.

As Nigel and Reina boarded a plane for Melbourne, the Singapore Subordinate Court sentenced Benson LaSalle and Chase Barone to be publicly caned, followed by twenty years in prison. Their American lawyers expressed disappointment and vowed to appeal. The Singapore attorney, hired to guide them through the city-state's complex judicial system, breathed a sigh of relief. Hanging was the alternative both men had escaped.