Front Man (2 page)

Compass were on fire.
They stormed their way through the set, new material and old
favourites winning the same ecstatic reaction from the crowd. Jack
was flying high, putting his heart and soul into every last note. As
he approached the edge of the stage to brush the hands of his
delirious
fans, one face in particular
caught his eye. She was stood at the side of the stage, in the VIP
area. There was something about the light in her dark brown eyes that
caught his attention. Jack couldn't tear his eyes away from her
perfect heart-shaped face, framed by heavy bangs that only emphasised
her delicate beauty. As the last bars of the song faded away, Jack
realised he was still staring at her, and that Michael was scowling
at him. He quickly returned to his position, throwing a glance at the
set list, although he already knew what was coming up next. Just the
thought of it made his heart sink. But Michael wouldn't give him a
chance to weasel out of it. He was already nodding to Donny, already
launching into the opening notes. The very sound turned a knife in
Jack's gut. But the fans were going crazy, the sound of girls
screaming almost drowning out the music.

***

“Oh my God,
Sara, they're going to play 'Back Track'!” Erica yelled into
her friend's ear. Neither of them could quite believe it; while it
remained one of their most popular hits, the band had refused to play
the song live for the last three years. There were rumours that Jack
Carter hated the song, although nobody had any sensible theories as
to why. Sara could feel every beat of her heart as the music washed
over her. This would always be her favourite song. She watched Jack's
face as he leaned in to his microphone, singing the first few lines
softly, almost reluctantly. He could put so much feeling into just a
few words. His eyes were cast down to the floor, as if avoiding the
audience, until suddenly he looked up. His eyes locked into Sara's.
And he sang the chorus as if singing just to her.

Sara felt as if she
was staring right into his soul. The intensity of his gaze moved
something within her, and she had a sudden urge to leap up on the
stage and throw her arms around him.

“And if I could
retrace my steps/What wouldn't I say?” Jack belted out the
line, his voice full of raw emotion, and Sara could have sworn she
saw tears in his eyes. There were certainly tears in hers. It was as
if Jack Carter had distilled all the pain, the anguish of lost love
into a single song. It resonated with anyone who had ever felt love
and loss; Sara's were not the only tears in the audience. As the
final notes died away, Jack finally broke their connection, lowering
his gaze back to his guitar. His head drooped, as if he had put all
of his energy into the performance and was now drained. For a moment,
there was total silence, the crowd still processing what they had
just witnessed. A performance of such intensity, such depth, that
they were unlikely to witness ever again. Then the cheering began,
the hollering and screaming and applause louder than the arena had
ever seen before. Jack Carter put down his guitar, and gave a
sweeping bow. Then he straightened up and walked off the stage.

“Sara, that was
so incredible! He was looking right at you the whole time!”
Erica shouted at her friend, pulling her into a tight hug. Sara
smiled back at her friend, sharing her excitement, but at the same
time feeling a nagging anxiety in her chest. She couldn't pin down
the reason, but something in Jack Carter's look had shaken her. The
crowd were chanting now, demanding an encore. Five minutes passed.
Then ten. The crowd grew ever more restless, hollering at the stage,
waiting for their idols to return. Fifteen minutes. And then the
lights came up.

“Why aren't
they coming back on?” Erica wondered aloud.

“No idea,”
Sara muttered, but her sense of foreboding was growing. Compass
always played an encore; they were famous for going out with a bang.
What was going on?

There were groans
from the crows, and even a few boos. Someone started up the chanting
again; “We want Compass!”

“Show's over
ladies and gentleman. The bar will remain open for another fifteen
minutes. We hope you enjoyed your night.” The loud speaker
announcement sealed it; Compass were done.

“At least we
might get to see them backstage, “ Erica squealed, propelling
her best friend towards the rear doors. Sara only nodded. She was
still thinking about Jack Carter.

***

Jack kept walking.
Through the wings, past his dressing room, through the stage door
before anyone could stop him. Down the dingy alley at the back of the
arena, and onto the streets. Letting his long fringe fall over his
eyes, Jack stepped through the puddles of rain water, not caring.
Fuck the rain. Fuck Michael, fuck that song, fuck all of them. They
all expected him to smile for the crowd and act like nothing ever
happened. At the end of the day, nobody cared how he felt about
anything. A hot salty tear escaped and dripped down his face. Jack
brushed it away with the cuff of his shirt.

It was late, and as
he moved away from the busy centre, the streets grew quiet. Everyone
was hurrying home to escape the weather. Finally, he reached the
bridge. Gazing over the guard rail, Jack watched the dark river rush
beneath him, cold and uncaring. He had never felt so lost. The tour
was a success, sure, the atmosphere at every gig electric. But
afterwards, when he left the stage and sloped back to his dressing
room...that's when the thoughts came creeping back. The memories. The
guilt. Drinking could only numb him so much. There were girls
everywhere, throwing themselves at him, desperate to keep him company
for the evening. But at the end of the day, he was still alone. He
stared once more into the dirty water, and wondered how long it would
take to drown. The current here was powerful. And at this time of
year, the cold might just be enough. He wondered if it would hurt,
not that it mattered. Every day hurt, and the pain only seemed to get
worse.

It took his full
strength to haul himself over the guard rail. Jack sat on the edge,
his legs dangling over the nothingness below. He wasn't crying any
more. The cold wind on his face and the damp smell of the river were
almost a comfort. A promise. He'd been sitting there about twenty
minutes, when the buzz of his phone in his pocket disrupted his
reverie. He pulled it out of his pocket. Jared. He hesitated, then
pressed the button to answer.

“Jack? Thank
God, where the hell are you? Are you okay?” There was genuine
concern in his manager's voice. Jack sighed.

“I'm fine man,
just needed some fresh air.”

“Okay, well can
you get your butt back here? I've got press people waiting, this gig
is going to go down in history!”

“Um...”

“Come on Jack,
you just need to show your face, then you can go right back to the
hotel. Shall I come pick you up?”

“Don't worry
about it Jared, I'll take a cab. Be there soon.”

“That's my boy.
Just hurry up, ok?”

Jack hung up, cast
one last look into the black depths of the river, then swung himself
back over the rail. Like it or not, today life went on. He had work
to do.

***

Sara rolled her eyes.
Erica was laughing herself silly at yet another one of Michael's
jokes, her legs draped over his lap. She had homed in on the bass
player as soon as he'd appeared at the party, and with Erica's long
blonde hair and blatant curves on display, the attraction seemed to
be mutual. Sara winced slightly as Erica tipped her head back, and
let Michael pour another shot down her throat. Her friend had already
had way too much to drink, and she wasn't sure how they were going to
get home. Although by the looks of things, Erica had no plans to
leave any time soon. Sara took another swig of her beer. She was
trying to pace herself, but she could already feel the buzz of the
alcohol in her own bloodstream. Yet somehow she couldn't let go and
enjoy herself. While the rest of the band were in party mode, Jack
Carter was still nowhere to be seen. Sara kept seeing his face in her
mind, the pain behind his eyes as he gazed back at her. It was silly,
she knew, but she was worried about him.

“Sara! Get over
here,” Erica demanded, and Sara sidled awkwardly over to the
couch where her friend was still entwined with Michael.

“Mike says we
can crash in his hotel room tonight, isn't that awesome!? Cos, you
know, I don't think I should try and drive us home right now.”
Erica giggled.

“Awesome.”
Sara said, trying to keep the disdain from her voice.

“Anything to
help a pair of lovely young ladies out,” Michael said in his
syrupy voice, giving her a wink. “ Maybe you should come join
us on the couch here, instead of standing around all by yourself.”

“I, uh, just
need a refill, I'll be right back.” Sara shuddered at the
thought and hurried off towards the bar. As she waited for the
bartender to take her order, she heard a commotion at the other end
of the room. Looking up, she saw Jack Carter striding through the
crowd, not smiling, avoiding everyone who tried to catch his
attention. He was dripping wet, and unless she was imagining it, his
eyes looked red. Sara's stomach gave a little flip as he approached
the bar.

“Scotch neat
please Jim,” he said gruffly. He turned towards Sara, and she
thought she saw him start, as if he recognised her.

“And whatever
the lady wants,” Jack added. He smiled at Sara, and she felt
her heart melt. Up close, he was even more handsome than she had
imagined. His scent invaded her nostrils, a mix of leather and sweat
and aftershave. It gave her chills.

“I saw you in
the crowd. Did you enjoy the show?” Sara's eyebrows shot up in
surprise; she wasn't imagining things, he actually had been looking
at her.

“It was
incredible. The best one I've ever seen...you were, just, wow. When
you sang 'Back Track'...I've never seen anything like it. It was
amazing.”

Jack seemed to
consider her for a minute, and she felt her cheeks flush as he
examined her face. Expression unchanged, he knocked back his Scotch
and motioned to the bartender for another.

“You really
liked it that much, huh?” Sarah nodded.

“In that case,
it was worth it.”

Sara shot him a
quizzical look. Despite her nerves at being confronted with her idol,
she felt she had to know.

“Worth it? It
really hurt you to sing that song, didn't it?”

Jack's expression
darkened, and Sara instantly regretted her question. She had touched
a nerve.

“I...I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to pry, I just...when you were singing, it felt so raw.
Like it was more than just a song.”

“You're not a
journalist, are you?” Jack said, then not waiting for her
reply, “ No, I didn't think so. You don't seem like the type.”

“No, not a
journalist. Just a fan.”

After an awkward
moment of silence, Jack sighed.

“It always
hurts. Seems like it's worse lately. That's why we don't sing it
any
more.
Not when I have any say in the matter, anyway. But
still, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sorry, I don't think I even asked
your name.”

He reached out and
shook Sara's hand. His touch sent a little shiver through her. There
was something so gentle, so sincere about him...she hadn't expected
that. It was so different to the commanding persona you saw on stage.

“Can I get you
another drink then, Sara?”

They sat and drank,
and talked. About life on the road, the new album, the European tour.
Jack told her he'd been trying to learn
French
,
and made her giggle with his terrible attempts. He smiled when she
corrected his
pronunciation.
“I'm
still not sure what you're saying, but you sure make it sound
beautiful.”

Sara flushed. Was he
flirting with her? She drained the remains of her drink, and realised
she desperately needed to pee.
“Excuse me just a second...”
Sara murmured, feeling a little dizzy as she stood up. As she turned
to head to the washroom, she realised Erica and Michael had vanished
from their spot on the couch. She felt a little rush of fear. Where
had her friend gone? Scanning the room, she could see no sign of
either of them. Surely she wouldn't go back to the hotel
alone....Erica was smarter than that....but she was pretty drunk-

“Sara? Are you
ok?”

Jack was at her side,
his face a picture of concern.

“My friend.
She's gone. She was with Michael.”

The look on Jack's
face was hard to read, but it didn't make Sara any less anxious for
her friend.

“She's had
quite a few drinks, I just hope she's ok. She wouldn't ever leave
without me, not normally.” Sara tried calling Erica's cell, but
there was no answer.

“Maybe we'd
better go look for her. I'll help.” Jack took her hand and led
Sara through the crowd as she scanned for Erica. They checked the
second room, and both sets of washrooms. No sign of her.

“Let's try
Michael's dressing room. Maybe they went back there.” Jack's
voice was grim as they hurried down the corridor. Jack marched right
up to the dressing room door and hammered on the wood.
“Michael?
Are you in there?” Sara called Erica's name, but there was no
response. Bending slightly, Jack pressed his ear to the door.

“There's
definitely someone in there,” he said, pounding on the door
again and shouting his
band-mate's
name.

“Erica!”
Sara called again, and this time they both heard the faint sound of a
woman's voice from behind the door.

“Michael! Open
this door! Oh fuck it,” Jack said, and squaring his shoulder,
gave the dressing room door a hard shove.

Erica was pressed up
against the table, her long legs dangling lifelessly. Her dress was
rolled up around her waist, and Sara saw her lace trimmed underwear
lying on the floor. As they entered, Michael spun round, his hands
still under Erica's clothing.