AT 29 (47 page)

“You wrote a song about me?” Peggy was enthusiastic on the other end. It was two in the afternoon her time.

“That night, after you had me to dinner with your family.”

“And, you sang it for the first time in Australia?”

“To a live audience. It went over great. It's the signature song on my new album.”

“I've got to hear it!”

“It won't be released in the states until I get back.”

“When?”

“A month.”

“Jimmy, you call me all the way from Australia to tell me about a song you wrote for me and I can't even hear it?” The pleasure in her voice matched his own as he smiled into the receiver.

“I didn't want to say anything until I was sure it was good.”

“Of course it's good. I can't wait a month. Either you sing it to me right now or I'll never speak to you again.”

“Nothing doing. A telephone line won't do it justice.”

“Some people get advance copies of new albums. How about me?”

“Consider it done. I'll get the label to send you one today.”

Perth was not a complicated city. In the morning he found that he could run easily, unconstrained by the tangled pedestrian traffic he often faced in New York. The Swan River meandered to the east. It was a pretty waterway that invited him to trudge along its banks. Five miles would be his limit. He only wanted to stay in shape and enjoy his newfound health. That he had safely emerged from this first concert without taking a drink was deeply satisfying.

At the halfway point, he left the riverside and jogged into a park that bordered the downtown section a few blocks from Aberdeen Street. There would be little activity at the club, but the previous night's good vibrations called him.

A white van whizzed by in the same direction. Jimmy noted the small microwave dishes arrayed on its roof together with an assortment of antennas, both tall and short. Several blocks ahead, he saw the van come to a stop where he judged Mullygrubbers to
be. He quickened his pace, curious. In a minute, he came to the entrance. Two men were carting electronic equipment from the van into the club.

Above, Mullygrubber's billboard, encircled by blinking lights, caught his attention. The sign was changed. He saw his real name in huge letters:

Jim Buckman Sings

‘PEG'

From Button's Back and Blue

Tonight - Sold Out

Hear it Live on Double J, 1540

Miles kept his word.

***

Double J's live broadcast caused a stir. During the day the popular radio station played cuts from
Button's Back and Blue
while constantly reminding its listeners to tune in that night. The sold out performance meant that ticketless fans, wanting to be part of the action, could only mill about outside. Many did just that, arriving on Aberdeen Street hours before the first set. The Double J van remained in position. During the afternoon six large speakers were set up along the sidewalk, facing the street, ready to carry the concert to the masses. When word of the impromptu gathering reached city hall, the police were dispatched, not to roust the young people, but to keep the street open. It was not a raucous event, rather a spontaneous festival on a clear winter night.

Jimmy arrived by taxi, caught off guard by the throng that jostled him as he exited the car. Most of them were young girls, shouting and thrusting their hands at him as he fought his way toward the club's side entrance. His middling stardom in the U.S. did not prepare him for this kind of reception. Never had he been required to fight for space just to put one foot in front of the other. Some of the girls held copies of his album, imploring him to pen his autograph on the white space around his silhouetted image. This, too, had never happened before. A few autographs now and then, not the pandemonium that now blocked his way forward. In a state of uncertainty, he accepted a pen and quickly scrawled his name, then another and another until his hand began to ache. He was barely six feet from the doorway when it swung open and two stagehands came out to bring him inside.

It was no less chaotic in the corridor. Unlike the night before, many people moved about, some carrying electronic equipment and others just standing, waiting for something. As it turned out, they were waiting for him. A small, balding man in his late thirties, hurried forward as Jimmy crossed the threshold.

“I'm Harry Stahl. I'm doing tonight's show for Double J. We open the broadcast thirty minutes before you start. I need an interview before you go on.” The little man's face had a pleading look.”

The band was already assembled and waiting for Jimmy to arrive. Like the night before, they were all smiles. As he shut the door, his hand trembled.

“Big doings in Perth tonight, mate. Your song hit a nerve.”

“
Peg
?”

“Yeah. Double J's the big station around here. Stahl's their main man on the hot shift, seven to eleven.” The four pros smiled and nodded to each other, “Looks like you're a hit.”

During the interview the crowd outside swelled to several hundred. Like the first performance, the band opened with the same ten Button Band standards. Inside, the energy was high. The minor miscues from the night before, noticed only by the band, were corrected. The set was flawless. During intermission the police closed the street, finally giving up on any semblance of normal traffic. This enabled the more than three hundred who had come out, to take over the block. It was a jubilant mass of young adults, issuing a non-threatening chorus of
‘Peg'
and
‘Back and Blue'
that ushered Jimmy back to the stage.

Harry Stahl had already ticked off the name of each song on the album, but he did it in the order that appeared on the recording. That meant
Peg
would come last. Before launching into the first song, Jimmy turned back to the band and shouted over the audience noise. “You guys okay with the reorder?”

“No worries.”

It was three in the morning when he returned to his hotel and spotted the blinking message waiting light.
Peg
required two encores. After the show, he accompanied the band to a small bar across town, far from the multitude that lingered on Aberdeen Street. He drank Pure Blonde, a pleasing Australian lager. Two was his limit, even though the others kept on with more in the private room they'd been given after the bar's legal closing at midnight.

“How'd it go?” The message was from Miles.

“They love the album, especially
Peg
.”

“What'd you think of my little surprise?”

“The interview?”

“That and the broadcast.”

“You should have warned me in advance.”

“No screwups, I hope.”

“He plugged the album.”

“I had them change the billboard.”

“I saw that, thanks.”

“So, now you're Jim Buckman. Just toe the line and we'll make sure it sticks.”

“How's it selling?”

“I was going there next. I planned to press another thousand, doing ten instead.”

“Too many.” McCabe didn't reply for a moment. “You still there?” Jimmy asked.

“You sold out in Perth yesterday. I'm shipping the extra ten thousand by air now.”

“Sold out in one day?” Jimmy was incredulous.

“You're hot and I want to be ready.”

“I've never sold that many in one day anywhere.”

“Listen, I have another promotion lined up for Friday.”

“Another interview?”

“Television. There's a show over there on channel seven. I've arranged to have them do a segment on you before you go to Broome.”

***

Brittany Holborn was the type of wholesome young woman that Australian television viewers liked to watch. That she was sweet, articulate and deceptively intelligent merely added to her on-camera charisma. In the three years since she joined
the Today Tonight broadcast, she had swiftly ascended to the Friday night anchor slot, earning the Australian equivalent of an Emmy for insightful reporting.

She knew nothing about Jim Buckman or his music. On the plane back to Perth from an assignment in Sydney, she scoured everything her producers had provided. She read the briefs about The Jimmy Button Band, something about a brawl during its last concert - trouble back in the States and now, a new name and a new start in Australia. That would be the hook.

They sat opposite one another in comfortable chairs arranged on a set designed to look like a typical living room. Jimmy was nervous. He was unfamiliar with television production, people all around checking lights, conferring with the star, make-up technicians applying their skills to the two of them in between cautious directions from other technicians and, of course, the director himself. Through it all, Jimmy was all but ignored, just another guest of temporary use to fill airtime.

“Welcome to Australia, Mr. Buckman.” Brittany's eyes were bloodshot from the limited sleep she had gotten during the past six hectic days. “Can I call you Jim, or would you prefer Jimmy?”

“Call me Jim.” He was still getting used to it himself.

“Here in Perth for less than a week and already you're climbing the charts. What do you make of that?”

“I'm surprised.”

“So you didn't think it would happen?”

“I hoped it would be a good reception, but I'm still getting used to it.”

“Your album is sold out in Perth and
Peg
looks like it's going to be a big hit. Tell us how you came to write it.”

Jimmy wasn't sure what to say. The truth was private, between Peggy and him. He preferred to keep it that way. “I reconnected with an old friend and put it to music.”

“Touching. So
Peg
is a real person. Are you in love with her?” Jimmy frowned. The director swiftly turned the camera back to the smiling Brittany.

“It's not about romantic love. I was rethinking my career. She helped me work through some issues.”

Brittany turned to face the cameras. “Jim may be referring to a troubling time when he called himself Jimmy Button.” She turned back to her guest. “Perhaps the best way to introduce this to our audience is to show a tape of your last concert in the United States. We don't have time for the whole performance, but here are some excerpts. Would you narrate for everyone?”

The ambush, so deftly set, enraged Jimmy. He shot an angry look at the interviewer, realizing that this was her angle all along. He cursed his naiveté. Brittany returned his look with an innocent smile, carefully captured by the cameras.

The next fifteen minutes were the most embarrassing of Jimmy's life. He had never seen a tape of the Atlantic City meltdown, didn't even know one existed. His voice shook, as he was smoothly coaxed to explain what was happening above the riotous shouts that filled the images on the screen. As he responded to Brittany's questions, he tried to gather his emotions, not sure that he could keep his embarrassment from overcoming the calm he knew was necessary. All he wanted to do was escape, but he had no option. He was forced to describe his meltdown as best he could. The music was terrible. Everything Cindy told him was true. The instruments were woefully out of tune,
the band listless and uninvolved. Then the fighting began and he saw himself on the floor, looking helpless and hopeless as Benson waded into the fray. It was worse than he imagined. When the tape ended, the cameras returned to show him slumped in his soft chair, looking demoralized. Not even the makeup, so carefully applied before the broadcast began, could hide the nervous blush that filled his cheeks.

“What became of your band back in the states?”

“We broke up.”

“Now you're striking out on your own under a new name?”

“Buckman is my real name.”

Brittany turned back to the cameras. “Few performers can make a comeback after what we just witnessed, but Jim Buckman is on the verge of doing just that in Australia. Let us show you what happened here in Perth a few nights ago.”

Another tape filled the screen, this time showing a huge throng gathered on the street in front of Mullygrubbers. Accompanying the scene was Jimmy's voice singing one of the cuts from
Button's Back and Blue
. The people filling the screen were singing along in front of the speakers arrayed on the sidewalk. It was festive, made all the better by the quality of Jimmy's voice, rising above it all. After one verse, the music died down and the camera came back to the Today Tonight set.

“Where do you go from here?”

Jimmy lifted shamed eyes to face his oppressor. “To Broome and then along the coast for another three weeks.”

“If your reception is anything like Perth, all of Australia will welcome you with open arms. And,” she turned to the camera flashing her signature smile, “as we close our show for tonight take a listen to Jim Buckman's new song,
Peg
, from his album,
Button's Back and Blue
, released first and exclusively here in the great land of Australia.”

The Today Tonight credits filled the screen with
Peg
playing in the background. Behind the scrolling letters, Brittany could be seen leaning across, speaking animatedly, but inaudibly to her guest. “It's the nature of the business,” she whispered. “You have a story the audience needed to hear.”

“You should have told me what you planned.”

“Would you have stayed on the set?”

“Probably not.”

“There you have it.” She sat back. “This show won't do you any harm. You're human. We Australians like that.” She tossed her head back in feigned merriment. It was a calculated move, intended to give her audience the impression that she and her guest were long-time friends.

He thought about Brittany's last words, unheard by her audience. ‘You're human' stuck in his mind. The embarrassment was wearing off. He hoped she was right. Seeing the tape drove home the sad truth that all that happened was of his doing. He couldn't escape that fact, nor could he ignore it. Only sobriety and a continued focus on his music could erase the shame of it all. Gradually, his spirit righted itself. It was good to see the tape, to see the raw truth of his long courtship with the bottle. He vowed to keep those images foremost in his memory. Whenever he grew weary of long nights on the road and thirsted for single malt, he would summon those images and use them as a reminder.