Off the Record (11 page)

‘Nope. He’s not here. I just got an SMS from him saying he had an emergency and couldn’t stay for the gig.’

‘But he was here a half hour ago!’ Johnson argued. ‘What the hell’s going on? Have you called him?’

‘Yeah. No answer. Sorry, Boss. I’ll keep trying, but you’re on stage in fifteen minutes, so unless he’s around here somewhere there’s no chance of him being here on time.’

‘If this is a joke …’

‘Shit, do I look like I’m joking? If I knew where he was I’d go get him myself!’

Paul swore in frustration.

‘OK. So he’s got a problem,’ Johnson held up his hands. ‘And so have we. If he’s not here, we need a lead guitarist and fast.’

Paul glared at Bob. ‘You’ll have to do it,’ he said. Bob backed away shaking his head.

‘No way, man! There’s a good reason I’m a tech – there’s not a chance in hell I could play like Greg. And you still need me back here to do my job.’

He was right, dammit! His dad and the other guitarists changed instruments throughout the set, each guitar being tuned for a particular song or sound.

‘Well, what the hell are we going to do? Without a lead guitarist we’ll have to cancel.’

‘No. That’s not gonna happen, son,’ Johnson shook his head. ‘We’re not about to let all these folks down.’

Paul looked at his father and swore again. Johnson nodded, a small smile playing across his features.

‘Dad, don’t do this. It’s a crazy idea.’

‘It’s a perfect idea,’ he countered. ‘Come on, Paul, you know all the songs. Hell, you …’

‘Dad,’ he growled, desperate to shut him up before he said too much. ‘I can’t.’

‘So what do we do?’ asked Bob, his panic becoming more obvious by the second. ‘A full house and we have to tell ’em to go home? They’ll riot!’

Johnson put a hand on the technician’s shoulder. ‘It’s OK, Bob. Go check everything’s ready. Give us a couple of minutes.’

Paul took the initiative as soon as Bob was out of earshot. ‘Dad, don’t ask me. Let me go find Greg. ‘

‘There’s no time for that, son, and you know it. Just like you know it’s time to let go of the past.’

‘That’s a low blow, old man!’ he snapped, angry that his father should bring it up now. ‘And with your old girlfriend out there, I don’t see how you have the balls to talk to me about letting go of the past!’ He wanted his dad to get mad, was ready for a fight. But he didn’t, dammit. He just looked at him, his eyes full of regret and compassion.

‘I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right. But I need you, Paul. There’re thousands of people out there, including that old girlfriend of mine. And I don’t want to let any of them down.’

Paul felt as though someone had tied a rope around his heart and was pulling it tighter and tighter. He knew he had no choice, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t fight it a little longer. ‘What if I can’t do it? What if I get out there and I just can’t do it?’

Johnson smiled. ‘You know, son, I ask myself those same damn questions every time I stand in the wings waiting to walk on stage.’

‘Yeah, right! Like you ever had a problem struttin’ your stuff out there.’

‘I’m not kidding. Every time is like the first time. I stand there waiting to go on and wonder if I’ll ever be able to move again. But then I hear the music, and everything’s OK. Just like I know you’ll be OK too, son. Because that music is as much a part of you as it is of me.’

Paul couldn’t help feeling pleased by his father’s faith in him, even when he was in turmoil over what he was being asked to do. The music was something that had always brought them together, even when he was a kid and living with his mom most of the time. Music was his life, just like it was his dad’s.

But he’d chosen to stay off the stage for a reason, and for the first time he was being asked to make a different choice. His dad needed him. Did he need to cling to his old fears more than he needed to be there for his dad? He took a deep breath. ‘You sure about this?’ he asked.

‘I sure am,’ his father smiled.

Paul let out his breath on a long sigh. ‘OK. Let’s do it.’

Chapter Thirteen

The lights went up and the place erupted. As the band filed onto the stage, Kate watched with concern as her mother went pale.

‘Mum, are you OK?’ she shouted over the roar of the crowd.

Alex blinked, then let out the breath in a rush. ‘Now I know how Johnson felt when he saw you,’ she leaned over and said into Kate’s ear. ‘It’s like stepping back through time.’

Kate shook her head in confusion, hearing but not understanding her mother’s words. Despite looking shaky and sick, Alex smiled to reassure her, and mouthed ‘I’m fine,’ just as Kent, the bass player reached the microphone.

‘Hey Manchester! How y’all doin?’ he yelled. The noise level rose as the crowd responded.

The hairs rose on the back of Kate’s neck.
Something’s wrong!
Kent didn’t usually do the intro – Greg, the lead guitarist did. She scanned the stage and her eyes collided with Paul’s. For a moment their gazes connected, then he looked down, adjusting the strap of the guitar he’d just picked up.

He looked up again, and she mouthed, ‘Where’s Greg?’ Grim-faced he shrugged and checked that his lead was connected to the right amplifier.

He fiddled with his earpiece, wincing a little when Kent yelled again, ‘You here for a good time?’

The roar grew. Kate didn’t know whether it was around her or inside her head. What was going on? Paul never played in public! She had no doubt he could do it. She didn’t know why she knew that, but she did. She gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile and a double thumbs up. He turned away, concentrating fiercely on checking his equipment, preparing himself.

Something’s not right. He’s not happy about this. What on earth is going on?

‘Who you wanna see?’ Kent teased the audience, whipping everyone up into an even louder frenzy.

Kate barely registered the hysteria. All her focus was on Paul. Next to her, her mother covered her ears as the frenzied spectators began to chant,

‘Johnson! Johnson! Johnson!’

‘You wanna see the man?’ Kent yelled above the din.

‘Yeessssss!’ came the response, like a tsunami of sound.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls … I give you … JOHNSON BRAND!’

Paul stood frozen for a split second, paralysed by the myriad of sensations and memories running through his brain. Fear, excitement, anger, and more fear coursed through him, then Mick the drummer raised his arms and tapped his sticks together, setting the beat.

‘One, two, three, four!’

As Mick brought the sticks down and pounded into the first bar of the song, Paul’s fingers found the frets and instinct took over. He closed his eyes, shutting out everything but the sounds coming in through his earpiece.

He didn’t see his father walk onto the stage, but felt the change in the air, the overload of excitement as his fans spotted their idol amongst them. Fear spiked. He opened his eyes, bracing himself, even as he continued to play, note perfect. It was as though his mind has split into two – one half functioning perfectly well while the other descended into hell, waiting, expecting something Goddamn awful to happen.

But everything seemed normal – as normal as it could be when you’re playing to a full arena of screaming, cheering fans. He tensed as his dad moved to the front of the stage. His old man seemed to become someone else in front of an audience. He glowed. He was filled with energy. He loved it. From his vantage point on the stage, Paul could see Kate and her mother out front and centre, separated from the stage by a no-go zone populated by security personnel, and behind crowd barriers.

Kate looked sideways at the woman beside her, drawing Paul’s attention to her mother. The older woman was totally focussed on Johnson as he approached the mike, slapping Kent on the back as he passed. The arena erupted again as he pulled the microphone from its stand and seemed to head straight towards the woman sitting like a statue in the front row.

He paused on the edge of the stage, looking down at her. Paul wondered whether he and Kate were the only people in the world to notice, but for a moment it seemed like neither Johnson nor Alex were aware of the noise, of the thousands of people crying out to Johnson, of the music heading inexorably towards the first line of the song. For a moment Paul thought his dad was going to miss his cue, but at the last second he raised the microphone and began to sing.

The next hour and a half was sweet torture for Paul. Just as Johnson had said, the music was a part of him that he couldn’t deny, and it felt good – damned good – to be playing with the band. But that dark part of his soul kept on remembering. Kept on reminding him that this was dangerous and he should run like hell. Every time Bob approached him for a guitar change he asked the same question.

‘Where’s Greg? Did he show?’

He’d have given anything to have been able to hand over to the missing guitarist and walk off the stage. But the answer was always the same.

‘No. I’m sorry. But you’re doin’ great, Paul. Hang in there, man.’

Eventually he stopped asking. He stopped thinking, concentrating on the sound and on a pair of green eyes watching him from the front row.

Johnson gave the best performance of the tour, pouring his heart and soul into every song. The energy of the crowd seemed to flow into him and he sent it back to them through his voice. He moved around the stage, but Kate could see that he was always aware of her mother, right there in the front row.
Just as I can’t help but be aware of his son, standing so still in the background
.

Trying to distract herself, Kate watched her mother again, willing herself to relax, to ignore the feeling that Paul was reaching out to her, needing her

Alex had been still at first, devouring Johnson with her eyes. Then she’d begun to move, her head, shoulders, arms, matching his rhythms. Finally, she joined the others who couldn’t stay in their seats and stood, swaying and clapping, singing along. Her enjoyment seemed to feed his euphoria.

The crowd were going crazy. Johnson didn’t seem to see anything but Kate’s mother. No one else seemed to notice. But Kate did. She realised they’d come to the last song in the play list. It was a rousing finale number, guaranteed to get everyone wound up ready to demand an encore.

But instead, Johnson had a brief word with Paul, who shot a quick glance in her direction and seemed to argue with his father. Kate wished she could lip read – Paul wasn’t happy about something. After a quick exchange, Paul shrugged and said something to Kent and Mick. Within seconds everyone but Johnson had left the stage. The lights dimmed and Johnson stood in a single spotlight. Someone brought him a stool, Bob handed him an acoustic guitar. As he put it on the crowd subsided, waiting.

‘I want to thank you all for coming tonight. It’s been a blast.’ They roared their agreement. ‘This is a song I wrote a long time ago.’

He looked straight at her mother. Kate froze in alarm. She felt lost, excluded from the powerful bond between her mother and the man on the stage.

He paused, and Kate wondered if he was going to say something else. Instead he bowed his head and began to play. The sweet harmony of his guitar providing a total contrast to the pounding, electric energy that had vibrated around them before.

‘This is a song about

Why I love you

And feeling as strong as I do

Emotions like stars across wide horizons

Knowing that you love me too’

Kate had never heard this song before, but Alex seemed to recognise it immediately. She sat down, her hands covering her face, leaving just her eyes visible.

‘No one’s gonna

Break this pure love

And no one’s gonna get in our way

I will be with you forever

And my eyes will never stray’

Kate looked at her mother. Her green gaze, so like her own, filled with tears as Johnson’s voice, slightly rough around the edges, sang out. Kate wanted to cry with her.

This was so confusing. What was Johnson doing, singing about love to
her
mother?

‘Because you are my world

And are my night

You are my soft moon

Shining so bright

You are my sunshine

Spread a glow across the sky

And when I kiss you

You will know why’

Alex barely seemed to notice when Kate took her hand and gave her a tissue. She squeezed her daughter’s hand, letting her tears fall, her gaze never leaving Johnson’s.

Is this what he wrote for her all those years ago?
Kate felt cold. She suddenly felt frightened.
I shouldn’t be hearing this. I don’t want to know that he loved her like that. And I can’t bear to see that she felt the same. Oh God!
She closed her eyes, willing the song to end. But Johnson sang on, and Kate sat there, trying to block it out, feeling her mother’s hand trembling in her own.

‘When we’re free

From all these expectations

We will be together I know

And as days fly by

I want you by my side

And we can let our feelings flow

Because you are my world

You are my life

And we’ll stay together

Through the pain and strife

I’ll mend your heart

If you mend my mind

I love you so much

And that’s not a lie

So when I kiss you

You will know why’

As the final notes faded away, there was a moment of utter silence. Kate felt Alex began to rise. At that same moment, the whole arena rose, cheering, clapping, and whistling, bringing them all back to reality.

Alex shrieked, startled. Johnson laughed. Kate jumped to her feet, opened her mouth and screamed with the crowd, releasing some of the hysteria that seemed to be suffocating her.

On stage, Bob relieved Johnson of his guitar and the stool was removed as he stood and acknowledged the crowd’s adoration. When he bowed, he caught Alex’s eye and smiled. Kate shivered.

The band had drifted back onto stage while the attention had been on the main man, and within seconds they had launched into the song that Kate had been expecting.

Alex subsided back into her chair as the crowds around her cheered and yelled their approval of Johnson’s performance. She felt herself shaking, shocked that he had played that song – her song. He wrote it and played it to her in his parents’ basement just days before she left him all those years ago. She’d cried and told him it was the most beautiful song she’d ever heard. He’d told her it was for her and he wouldn’t sing it for anyone else.

Had he really never sung it between then and now?

The band had returned and were playing the introduction to one of Johnson’s biggest hits, a raunchy rock number that had everyone going wild again. Alex stayed where she was, watching Johnson, oblivious to the thousands of people around her.

Jake, the security manager who had caught Kate and Paul kissing in the lift on her first day, came and got them before the end of the second encore and escorted them through the cordons of security guards and barriers protecting the band from the crowds. Kate was feeling oddly reluctant. She liked Johnson Brand, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about the song he had sung to her mother.

She was beginning to realise that the emotions between the two of them ran far deeper than she’d imagined. She had always thought that her father was the love of her mother’s life, and Alex had never contradicted that assumption. But if she’d really loved her husband so much, why was Johnson having such an effect on her? That acoustic song had shaken her mother so much she had hardly noticed the final number.

And of course there was Paul. Something had happened tonight. Obviously Greg had failed to turn up and Paul had taken his place. He’d been great – the sounds he produced were pure and faultless. But something wasn’t right. Paul hadn’t been happy up there. And the way he’d looked at her – and the way she hadn’t been able to look away – had unnerved her. It was as though he’d needed to focus on her to get through the show.

She didn’t want to be needed by anyone at the moment. She just wanted time alone to think.

As they reached the back stage area, the band came spilling off the stage for the final time. Johnson saw them and stopped, waiting. Kate watched helpless as her mother took a step towards him. Johnson opened his arms and she walked into them. He just held her, wrapped close to him, his head resting on hers. For a moment, she was lost in the memory of Paul holding her like that, and how wonderful it felt. Her heart sank.

‘Hey, Dad! C’mon! Let’s go!’

Kate was distracted as Paul pulled his damp T-shirt off and reached for a fresh shirt being proffered by a waiting stage-hand. Memories of their first encounter and her first glimpse of his firm, broad, naked chest brought a flush to her cheeks.

Paul grabbed Kate’s hand as he passed her and she found herself being dragged along as he headed for the exit. She knew they had a narrow window of opportunity before fans began gathering at the stage door, blocking the band’s escape route, so she gritted her teeth and ran with him, even though she’d rather be running in the opposite direction.

They made it into a waiting limo as the audience began to swarm out of the arena. Johnson kept an arm around Kate’s mother, who laughed breathlessly, looking through the window at the people surging towards them.

As soon everyone was seated, the doors were slammed behind them and the car moved off. Kate removed her hand from Paul’s grasp. He looked at her and frowned. She ignored him, turning her face to look out of the window too.

With a sigh Paul sank back into the leather upholstery and tried to relax. It was over. He’d done it. He’d performed on stage – with the JBB no less – and nothing bad had gone down. Not even a bum note! He allowed himself a small smile and felt some of the tension leave his body.
Life is good.
He let his head drop back against the headrest and closed his eyes.
I kicked ass tonight.
He wasn’t stupid enough to think no one had noticed, but maybe his dad’s decision to play that extra number – a song even he hadn’t heard before – would take the heat off him. Either way, they were going to have to do some careful dancing with the press over the next couple of days. He hoped his dad knew what he was doing. He might as well have put a neon sign over Alexandra Armstrong saying ‘here she is – come see the Dream Woman’.
Damn! Ah, hell, there’s nothing we can do about it tonight.