AT 29 (77 page)

So much had happened that he could not foresee. New songs bursting from his fog-free brain, the Gibson retrieved from its long lonely wait in the corner of his
childhood bedroom, the hard-nosed, but competent replacement for Daisy Overton who sat next to his one-time lover, her new love and his savior when all seemed lost. Miles McCabe changed his life because Australia enabled him to rediscover who he always was, Jim Buckman. He reached beneath the table and took Les' hand. She squeezed back without diverting from her conversation with Cindy. It was all so comfortable with her at his side. Whatever the coming months and years may bring, he knew his life would be better.

Then it was time to assemble backstage. At the commercial break he pushed back from the table and rose from his chair. Sonny, Ted, Melinda and Eugene rose in unison. Benson hollered from his seat next to Nigel. “We're on!” Then leapt up to join them. As Jimmy waited for Benson to reach his side, he locked eyes with Nigel. The big Australian stared knowingly, their bond strengthened by an unknown connection that arose from their two days holed up writing songs in a Port Fairy hotel. Neither man understood the link. It was simply there between them like it was meant to be.

This year a new format was introduced for the first time. Each of the five songs nominated for Song Of The Year was to be performed in full by its creator. The first four had already been completed, beamed over the airwaves and by satellite across the seas to more than thirty-two million viewers worldwide. In later years, it would remain as the most popular segment. As they waited behind the curtains for the commercial break to conclude, Jimmy and his band obeyed the director's order for silence. Each member toyed with his instrument, trying to keep calm and mentally prepare. Not one was relaxed, not even Benson who suddenly lost all of his bluster and sank low behind the drums. Melinda was stone faced at the keyboards, hands shaking. Jimmy looked her way then at the others, soon realizing that the director's call for silence had robbed his band of its oneness. Each musician was alone and frightened, unable to draw upon one another to fight off the nervousness that gripped them. He looked at Sonny, close to his left, staring straight ahead in a trance. Then he turned right to Eugene, shaking from head to toe with sweat sliding down his temples. Ted stood behind the bass player, twiddling his harmonica in his hands.

Without thinking, Jimmy stepped back and whispered loud enough for his band to hear. “You are the finest band I've ever played with. Tonight we'll show the world.” Then he returned to his place in front just as the curtains opened. He moved to the microphone and calmly addressed the thousand people in the audience.

“I'm Jim Buckman and this is my song,
Peg
.”

Benson silenced all murmurings with a thumping beat. Sonny hit a riff followed by a plaintive set of notes from Ted's harmonica. Eugene played the signature backbeat on his bass and Melinda launched the melodic notes that summoned Jimmy's voice. Whether it was their best performance didn't matter.
Peg
was number one on the singles chart. Everyone watching from the seats out front and from their living rooms worldwide had anticipated this moment since the broadcast began. They knew the song, some knew its heritage and a small few knew the woman who inspired it. Jimmy held the Gibson high and sang the words from his heart for Peggy, for his new life, for George who had never heard it and probably didn't hear it that night. Most of all, Jimmy sang it for Les. He searched the tables until he spotted her, smiling with encouraging attention to his every word. All thoughts of awards left him as he strummed and sang, seeking only to enjoy the moment. The moment he never dreamed would come.

When it was over no one heard the applause. It was there in the background somewhere, but as the curtains closed, technicians rushed onto the stage and began to tear down the wires and amplifiers while others took the instruments and carried them off to be stored. The band was ushered off the stage then down the short stairs and back to their tables. They settled into their seats just as the latest commercial break ended and the lights went down. Les put her arm around Jimmy's shoulders as everyone at both tables turned their attention to what was to come.

Miles expected the first of the big five awards to be the least likely one that Jimmy might win. The competition in this category was stiff. The concert at Chapel Hill, though brilliantly brought to life by Alice Limoges, represented a smaller venue than all the others. The frontrunner for Best Live Performance was thought to be the most famous woman singer in the world, a Broadway star and Hollywood actress who had a decade of success that few had ever achieved. She already had twelve Grammy Awards under her belt with no end in sight. The others were two iconic 60s era rock bands still on their latest worldwide tours and selling out everywhere they went. The last was a dark horse group from Holland, widely loved on the continent and just beginning to receive acclaim in North America. Jim Buckman was a good live performer, but his legacy as Jimmy Button lingered in the minds of many. Most critics knew of his alcoholic descent in recent years. Some had written him off long ago.

But Alice summoned something few writers find from mere words on paper. She managed to capture the moment in a way that touched hearts. Everyone in the hushed room watched and waited as the sweet young country singer, whose backers had bought her way onto the stage as a presenter, to finish her poorly scripted monologue. Jimmy sat totally relaxed. He, like Miles, did not expect to win. Alice, much farther away at a table with other writers, searched the faces of a few critics at tables nearby. These were some of the voters given the privilege to decide who had delivered the year's best live performance. As each nominee was announced, she studied their faces for a clue to their votes. She wanted Jimmy to win. She'd seen enough of the others to know he was the best.

When the envelope was torn open and Jimmy heard his name gleefully shouted from the podium, he could not move. Ellis rose in his chair, turning to hug his client in a burst of elation. Miles sat eyes wide, unable to speak as Mike Winfield struggled to shake his hand. Cindy quickly put her arm in his while nudging Les and screaming congratulations to Jimmy. Benson was already up and heading for the stage even as the rest of the band sat waiting, not sure if they were supposed to join him. Les' eyes filled with tears. She held Jimmy's trembling hand, equally unable to move and fearful of speaking lest she explode in a gush of joyful sobs. It was Sonny who broke through it all as the applause echoed all around.

“Time to go,” he said, in a raised voice. “You want us?”

“Absolutely!” Jimmy answered, turning to kiss Les on the cheek before he stood.

He thanked everyone, rattling off names in rapid fire, no different than all the winners who'd come before. No one was missed, including Alice who basked in delight as her fellow writers turned to smile at her. The discourse was a bit longer than the schedule allowed and the comedian host moved in to bring it to an end. Benson blocked him in his fight to wrestle the mike from Jimmy's hand. He had something to say, something to get the spotlight.

“And remember,” he shouted, through the speakers. “My name is Benson LaSalle!” The august audience of notables heard this wanton conceit, but for the rest of the world he was too late. CBS had already cut to commercial.

From then on Blossom Records turned in a rout. Kate won Best Performance by a Female Vocalist for her stirring rendition of Rebellion's signature song at the Beacon Theatre. Jimmy won Best Male Vocalist for
Peg
. Album of the Year went to
Back and Blue
. Like Jimmy, Kate made sure all of her Rebellion band mates joined her onstage. She faltered as she spoke, but soon regained her composure; rattling off many of the same names Jimmy had mentioned minutes earlier. But, as the host moved in to usher her from the podium, she quickly uttered one last name. “And finally to Jim Buckman who made it possible for me to sing that night. Without him making me understand that all audiences, no matter where they may be, are the same, I would not be holding this magnificent award in my hand.” She raised the tiny gramophone high above her head, “Thank-you, Jimmy!” Miles took note. One more proof of Jimmy's value to Blossom Records.

As the final commercial break ended the great hall at CBS hushed one last time. Mike Winfield had left his seat minutes earlier to make his way backstage. Song of the Year, the most coveted and prestigious award, often went to newcomers. Miles had studied the lists from years gone by. Most of those who won went on to stardom. Certainly, there were some one-hit wonders, but the artists and their labels all did extremely well in the months and years that followed. He realized that Jimmy was not a newcomer, but he also had a feeling that those who voted in this category discounted his earlier incarnation under the name Button. He was sure Jimmy had a good chance.

Ellis thought so, too. The cameras did keep turning to Blossom's tables even when Jimmy was absent onstage with his band. The big monitors, mirroring what the television viewers were seeing, frequently displayed the Blossom contingent, most often the two beautiful women seated to his left. Ellis had also carefully watched as Mike Winfield rose to leave. The DJ was calm and carried himself with confidence. His presence next to Miles McCabe signaled his alliance with the Blossom camp. And, as he brushed past, he touched Jimmy's shoulder before continuing on.

Winfield spoke off the cuff, eschewing the script that scrolled on the small monitors at the foot of the stage. The space to his rear was darkened. This was the crowning moment. There would be no more performances. The eyes and ears of millions were focused solely on him. Slowly and deliberately he called out the five songs nominated as the year's best, inserting anecdotes about each one that only his vast knowledge could recite. There were a few murmurs from the crowd as he built the anticipation with accolades, singling out each artist and pointing to their tables as the cameramen swiveled their heavy electronic eyes, following his lead. A drum roll accompanied the big moment as he peeled back the seal on the envelope and brought the long held secret to his eyes.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for all who have fallen only to find a way to rise again, it gives me great pleasure to announce this year's best song.” He waited a moment and gazed out directly at Jimmy, taking in a dramatic breath.

“
PEG
! By Jim Buckman!”

Jimmy was ready this time. He took in the applause as he turned in his seat to acknowledge the audience that rose to give him a standing ovation. He searched the sections until his eyes found Alice, the one person in the room who understood the
journey that brought him to that moment. Perhaps his music began with Kevin Royce, but this song began with two sisters in Newport, Vermont. He knew what Peggy was doing at that moment. He could see her crying with joy, wrapped in Joe's arms as little Alice and Charlene danced in front of the television. Alice rose from her seat, smiling and clapping, but never taking her eyes from his as each one recognized the meaning of that moment, two people picturing a third absent far away in Vermont, but there with them in their hearts.

It was two hours after the close of the show before Jimmy was hustled away from the interview room to a waiting limousine. The endless questions did not register as he basked in the glory of the night. The other Grammy recipients also seemed to be caught in a smoky delirium as they were shuffled from reporter to reporter in a cascade of flashing lights. Kate joined him in the limo's cavernous backseat, her chest heaving like she'd just finished a long sprint. It was one-thirty in the morning and both stars knew the night was just beginning. Dozens of parties were underway across the city. The winners would not go to all of them, but their presence was expected at some. The biggest soirée was at WAGZ. Mike Winfield had secured two floors above and below the station's studio so the heavies of the industry would have room to do business. Jimmy thought of Les, wondering how long it would be before they could be alone. He looked at Kate, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the schedule that a CBS assistant producer had put there while he withstood the interviews. He scanned the list, counting down.

“Five stops before we get to WAGZ,” he said. “Fifteen minutes at each party. Then we can relax.”

They ran the gantlet together. Kate was back on her heals, clinging close to Jimmy as celebrities approached at each stop, greeting them like old friends and introducing them to their entourages. Fortunately, the time flew by and soon they could breath easily as the limo finally merged into the Broadway traffic on its way to Winfield's big event. Jimmy loved Manhattan at night, all the more this time because he was headed, at last, to a rendezvous with Les. Kate, showing signs of nervous exhaustion, rested her head on the seatback, eyes closed as Jimmy took in the lights of the mammoth signage lining Times Square. The biggest video billboard rose up in front and there he was, singing
Peg
on the CBS stage, an endless looping of the night's big news.

Two uniformed doormen held the heavy bronze doors as the two music stars exited the limo and made their approach. They smiled in recognition, congratulating Jimmy and Kate as they escorted them across the lobby to the elevators where they pressed the call button and waited for the doors to open.

More sentries were stationed in the hallway, leading to the party. As they came near, Jimmy guessed that more than two hundred had come to share the glory of Blossom's triumph. A big hurrah rang out as Kate crossed into the throng followed by Jimmy who immediately began scanning the room for Les. His quest was frustrated when dozens of luminaries hurried to greet him, obscuring his view as they slapped him on the back. He was quickly surrounded and peppered with praise from people he vaguely recognized, but did not know. He doggedly worked his way through the mass of bodies, patiently smiling and responding as best he could. Kate soon disappeared, carried off by her Rebellion band mates.