An Autumn to Remember: A Novel (Elmtown Series Book 1) (18 page)

24

   “Dude, stop. Quit playing with me like that.”

   “It’s the truth Jerome,” Jamie said as they sauntered out of the administrative department.

   Triplets? Jerome’s face was frozen in an expression of surprise. It was their last day in college and the day Jamie chose to tell him about his indiscretion in South Korea.

   “Wait, so you thought by running away, the problem was just going to disappear?” he gestured with his hand.

   “I dunno, I guess that’s what I thought would happen. I have no excuse for what I did.” He didn’t meet Jerome’s eyes as he spoke.

   “C’mon man, you’re smarter than that. Three kids? OK, so tell me, how did Chelsea take it?”

   “Pfft, not good at all. She doesn’t even want to see me right now. She hasn’t spoken to me. Not to even say if it’s over or not but I know her, I know it’s over”.

   “How do you know? Maybe she just needs time to think things through.”

   “Trust me, I know. She’s very particular about betrayals and she rarely gives second chances.”

   Jerome scratched his head. “Aww man, that’s tough. You guys looked so good together. But we have to understand things from her perspective though. Anyone would be mad as hell in her shoes. Even you would.”

   “I know. It’s just really hard to accept I’ll never be with her again,” Jamie said sadly. “Anyway, so you’re not mad at me?”

   “For what.”

   “I never told you about what...you know, the whole South Korea thing.”

   “Why? Not at all. Like I don’t have issues of my own. Why should I be mad? We all make mistakes man. If I tell you some things I did in high school, you’ll be shocked. So you’re coming with me on Saturday?”

   “Definitely, Mr. Guerini’s friend wants me to start a.s.a.p. They lost their vocalist and the lady they are using temporarily is a big shot so I guess she’s really expensive. It’ll be a way for me to get into the jazz scene over there. They are also giving me free accommodation and everything.”

“Sounds good to me. We’ll talk more on the road,” Jerome said and they both departed.

***

   Three days later, Jamie was preparing for his last night at the club. He still couldn’t figure out how to find Ji-Min and there was no response to the email he sent to the gym’s email address. He listened to the songs he was performing that night as he dressed up. As he listened he knew he was going to miss the club and the guys he played with. It was a good way to showcase what he could do and prove to himself that he had a special talent. Although he was very grateful for the opportunity given to him by the old man, it was time to leave Elmtown.

   He was going away to the great Allen City where he intended to climb to the very top and as Mr. Guerini himself once said, most record labels in Allen City were interested in jazz and the city itself had become the best place to be for any upcoming jazz artist.

   One day you are going to become a phenomenon.
Jamie remembered the words of Raymond Ellis who was one of his father’s band members. He never forgot those words because it was the first time he heard the word
phenomenon. That day, the man was over at their house for Christmas because he didn’t have a family of his own. After they finished eating the lamb dinner prepared by Helen, Jamie’s father asked him to perform for their guest.

   At seven years old, Mr. Ellis was of the opinion that what Jamie could do vocally and on the guitar were beyond his years. He looked at Jamie’s father. He looked back at Jamie.

   “You never told me your son was the next Robert E. Benson,” he said to Jamie’s father immediately after the end of the song.

   “I don’t want him to have too much exposure at such a young age. You and I both know what the industry can do to young people. Let him have a normal life and grow up like every other child. His time will come. I’m here to guide him.” There was definitiveness to his father’s tone.

   Raymond tried further to persuade Jamie’s father that the boy should be introduced to their manager or someone high up in the record company straight away. He gave examples of people who started performing very early in life, but Jamie’s father was firmly in his stance; there would be no early exposure for his little boy, he knew what was needed to protect and guide his talent until the time was right.

   Why rush when they had a whole lifetime, he argued. He knew what he was doing and was going to help guide Jamie achieve whatever he wanted to. He died six months later, and so did Raymond in an awful plane crash.

   Jamie dragged the guitar box out from under the bed and wiped it with a damp cloth. He closed his eyes and paused. He never opened it since his father’s death. He sighed heavily then took it out of its case and let his hand caress every corner of the heavy wood. It felt satisfying as he held it firmly in his hands. He turned it backwards and read out the words written on a sticker placed at the back of the body, “Destined for Greatness
.
”

   His father placed the sticker there the day he brought it home. Like the other two guitars they had, it also needed to be given a name and his father named it Destiny.

   Jamie immediately became unrepentantly attached to it, playing it day and night, sometimes sleeping in bed with it, not allowing any of his friends touch it, clinging to Destiny like a groom to his new bride.

   He put it back in the box and placed it on his bed. He was taking it with him to Allen City. He looked at himself in the mirror, convinced that he had to do this, not later but that very night. He disregarded his fear of the unknown.

   It was 6:00 p.m. The clock in his room was ticking steadily. He placed his book,
The Jazz of Life,
in his suitcase and closed it; everything was ready.

   His thoughts flashed back to a few weeks before when he met his children for the first time and now he was migrating to a new city, not knowing what lay ahead of him.

   He walked into the living room where his mother lay on the couch, already deep in sleep and kissed her on the cheek then he left for the nightclub.

***

   At midnight, after Jamie’s last song, the band continued playing some soft music in the background. A lady in a red dress was still seated at the bar as the staff cleared the rest of the tables, ready to close for the day. Jamie left the boys on stage and walked into Mr. Guerini’s office to say goodbye.

   “Give my warm greetings to Smith, I haven’t seen him in ten years. He’ll take good care of you out there. A lot of record label executives attend his club so you just never know what might happen. Here, this will come in handy.” He handed over a couple of twenty-dollar bills to Jamie.

   “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve been so kind to me,” Jamie said. The thickness of the wad told him the man had given him more than what he was usually paid.

   “It’s nothing, you brought more life into this place than any of the singers I’ve ever hired. Hate to see you go but like I’ve always said, you belong in the big leagues. The whole world awaits you my friend.” They shook hands before Jamie left.

   As he came out of the office, he was welcomed into a sea of applause. The band members, the cleaners, the bar tenders, the cashiers and everyone else formed a circle to give him an unexpected but moving farewell. His heart pulsated in raised quickness. Each person gave a quick speech about how they enjoyed working with him. Jerome also got kind words and hugs. They left the club with Bob the pianist who was also going to Allen City for a few days and needed a ride.

   Jerome parked in front of the Braithwaite’s house and waited in the car with Bob as Jamie got out to get his things.

   When Jamie opened the door to their apartment, he was greeted with the sound of snoring and although tempted to leave because he didn’t like goodbyes, he knew Helen would be mad if he didn’t wake her up.

   He walked up beside her and watched her stomach rise and fall. Her legs rested on the arms of the couch, her head on the other end.

   “Hey Mom, wake up.” He tapped her shoulder gently. “Wake up Mom.”

   “Hi honey, you’re back.” She did a stretch and sat up.

   “Yes I’m leaving. Jerome is waiting outside so I have to go now. I’ll come on Sunday to help with the moving.”

   “No, don’t do that, don’t waste your money. I already told you Paul and his wife are coming to help. It’ll be OK.”

   “Are you sure?”

   “Positive.” She gave him a thumbs up.

   “OK then, I gotta go. Love you.”

   “OK. Bye baby. Love you too. Call me in the morning.” She crashed back into sleep.

   “I will.”

   He went into the room to retrieve his suitcase, checked that everything was OK and grabbed his guitar. He looked up at the ceiling and felt his heart crack in two as thoughts of Chelsea filled him. I miss her so much, he thought.

   He exited the house and entered into the car where the other boys were sharing a joke. They drove into the night. A new adventure had begun.

25

   The road meandered through three major towns and over two bridges. The rest of the communities were small farms and one Amish community. The road breathed quietly as if resting from a hard and busy day; by morning it would be fully alive again with cars and trucks moving people and goods from one place to another. But now at 1:00 a.m. the moon shone over one blue Ford Fiesta, traveling well over the speed limit on Highway 68.

   Jamie noticed the train tracks on the far right of the road. In the mornings, trains traveled in half-hour intervals all the way to the financial district of Allen City carrying finance executives and top-earning employees of Fortune 500 companies. It was a speed train which took about an hour from Elmtown but a lot of people avoided it because of its very high fares.

   “Is this your first time going to Allen City?” Bob asked. He noticed how Jamie was looking curiously at every major landmark on their way.

   “Yes it is,” Jamie said.

   “You’ll love it. I used to play for a band there before we moved to Elmtown. My wife wanted a smaller town to raise our daughters plus Elmtown was more affordable for us.”

   “I didn’t know you had kids. What’s that like?” Jamie asked.

   “Having kids?” Bob let out a yawn and put his head back on the headrest.

   “Yes,” said Jamie, “being a father and all.”

   “It’s a lot of work but I would never trade it for anything in this world. It’s work but it’s the most wonderful thing that could happen to you. The few things that may come close are falling in love and having an orgasm.”

   “Falling in love is as good as having an orgasm?” Jerome asked sincerely. His question was met with Bob’s laughter.

   Jamie was silent. Looking out the window he said, “The feeling of loving someone and being loved back is better than having an orgasm.”

   Bob nodded. Jerome felt compassion for Jamie as he made a left turn.

   “Look that’s the Allen Liberty Tower,” Bob said.

   Jamie turned his head to his left side and in the distance he saw a giant tower. It was as high as the Statue of Liberty and at the top, he saw something round, like a giant ferris wheel turned sideways, moving in circles at the top of the tower.

   “Wow I didn’t know it was this beautiful,” he said. “I’ve seen it in pictures but
sheesh
it looks much better in reality.”

   “You should go on it someday. We took the kids there once. There’s a restaurant at the top, a hotel in the middle, luxury retail stores. Highly recommended.”

   “There’s a skating rink and other fun things there too,” Jerome added.

   “I sure will.” Jamie nodded and then was distracted by a giant billboard. As they got closer he saw the green sign clearly with bold white prints that read, “WELCOME TO ALLEN CITY.”

   “And here we are buddy,” Jerome said. “We made it in less than three hours.”

   “Yes because you were speeding like a Nascar driver.”

   Jamie took a deep breath as if he was about to dive into a pool of water.

***

   They arrived at quarter to three in the morning and headed straight for Mr. Smith’s jazz nightclub. According to him, the club was open until 4:00 a.m.

   The club was on the second floor of a three-story building with a French-style bistro on the first floor. Mr. Smith owned the entire building and ran the nightclub while his son, Roberto, owned the bistro. The rooms on the third floor were rented to staff members of both establishments.

Jerome parallel parked the Fiesta between two cars by the curb. The sign read, “Roberto’s.”

   “So this is where you’ll be working huh?” Bob asked studying the area.

   “Yup. This is it guys.”

   “Good luck man. You’ll need it,” Bob said.

   “What do you mean?” Jamie asked. Bob didn’t just say “good luck”
and end it there. He added “you’ll need it
,
” so Jamie wanted to get to the bottom of it.

   “I couldn’t sustain myself with only these types of gigs. Had to get a second job. Allen City is too expensive bro and we all know there’s very little money in jazz. I hope you are planning to get a second job.”

   “I will if I have to. They are offering six hundred bucks a month with free accommodation. It’s a way for me to get into the jazz scene around here. Hopefully I can meet some guys from some of the jazz record labels.” I hope I know what I’m doing, he added to himself.

   “Six hundred bucks? That’s nothing in Allen City. Trust me even though you aren’t paying any rent, you’re still going to need a second job Jamie. And about the record labels, please, don’t raise your hopes too high.”

   “Fine, I’ll get a job if I have to. Geez man, relax,” Jamie said defensively with his voice rising higher than he intended. His irritation was a bit more obvious than he would have liked but he wondered why people always tried to point out things he had already thought about. The risks involved were apparent to anyone with common sense. Do people think I don’t have common sense? he thought.

   “I’ll open the trunk,” Jerome cut in. He already told Jamie his opinion about what he thought was a ridiculously stupid move so there was no need to add fuel to the flame.

   Jamie got his things swiftly and came to the driver’s side.

   “Thanks guys. See you around.” He turned and walked away, towards the door of the bistro.

   “You have my phone number man. Call me,” Jerome uttered.

   The more people doubted, the more Jamie wanted to prove them wrong. He opened the door to Roberto’s and walked towards a waiter clad in a white shirt and black apron.

   “Hello.”

   “Hi,” the waiter replied. He had two plates of food in his hands.

   “Please, can you help me? I’m looking for Mr. Smith.”

   The waiter turned and said, “All the way down that way, turn to your left and take the stairs to the second floor.”

   Jamie followed the waiter’s gaze and saw the sign that said, “Nightclub.” “Thanks,” he said.

   The bistro was almost full with people spread across the room. Still so busy at this time of the night,
Jamie thought.

   As he entered the club he saw a black woman singing beautifully on stage with four instrumentalists behind her. It was the same music that he heard on the first floor. He stood in one spot as he was met with the compelling ambience of the club. He’d never seen anything like it.

   The music. The smell of Cuban cigars. A variety of men and women of class. Everything blended together perfectly creating an intimidating aura.

   Jamie walked over with his suitcase and guitar towards the bar. The bartender was a stout man with full white moustache and a bald head.

   “Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Smith.”

   “Who are you?” the man asked, pouring a shot of rum in what looked like a blend of exotic fruits; he was making some kind of cocktail drink.

   “My name is Jamie Collins. He’s expecting me.”

   “Nice to meet you. You look younger than you sounded over the phone.”

   “Mr. Smith?” Jamie asked. The man’s voice had sounded a bit deeper on the phone too.

   “Yes it’s me. My two bartenders came down with the flu. Didn’t want them spreading any of that garbage here. One moment please,” he said and went over to a young lady in black uniform. He whispered into her ears and pointed towards a couple of gentlemen seated in the middle of the room and then nodded towards a lady sitting alone with three empty glasses.

   “I’m sorry. I have to micro-manage my staff,” said Mr. Smith. “So I’ve heard good things about you Jamie. Guerini told me about your exceptional abilities on stage. Who’s your biggest influence?”

   “George E. Benson,” Jamie said and then mentioned three other famous jazz singers he admired. He wondered if he was being interviewed. Mr. Smith smiled and said, “Good choice. Come with me.”

   Jamie followed him across the club towards a back entrance and then climbed a stairway that led to the top floor. The stairway smelled like old wood and the light was very dim. Mr. Smith said nothing so Jamie followed quietly. They came upon a hallway and walked past five pairs of rooms. Mr. Smith stood at the front of the last room on the right and opened the door.

   “This will be your room. I’ll give you more details about what you will be doing and how we work here. You’ll meet the band so it’ll be a long day tomorrow. Get some rest now son. Someone will come around to get you in the morning.”

   The room was light and airy, with a calming neutral color. Jamie dropped his suitcase at the base of the bed and placed his guitar against the wall. He walked towards the window, moved the curtains and looked down. Outside, some guests were already leaving the club. Jamie saw two drunken men staggering towards a car where a man leaned against the trunk as a woman kissed him passionately. And these people have work tomorrow?
Jamie thought to himself. He heard about the work hard, play hard culture of Allen City.

   He moved away from the window and scanned the room again. He noticed the telephone at the side of the bed then he thought about Chelsea and his mother. He would call them in the morning.