34. Luke
34
LUKE
A nd so it begins, an era closer to perfection than anything I’ve ever known. Daph and I settle into a routine so easily it might have been destined to be. I like the look of my guitar in the living room, my coat and boots in the closet instead of just inside the door: I’m a resident instead of a guest. I like discovering my clothes in the closet every morning—Daph cleared out half, but I really only need a sliver of space, so she spread her things back out.
I love seeing her clothes against mine.
I love finding her house key on my key ring and sliding my thumb across it during the day. I love working on that song in her living room in the evening. I make a lot of progress on Wednesday nights when she’s out. I usually walk to wherever to escort her home and we talk on the way. I love that fluffy bathrobe and the smell of her skin on the sheets, the thrill of waking up pressed against her.
I love being with her even more. She sleeps later than I do, so I get up as quietly as I can and go for my run. I quickly figure out the timing so that I can get back in time to make coffee before she wakes up. She’s adorably sleepy in the mornings and I can’t wait for the days when everything settles down and I can linger in bed in the morning, just to watch her wake up. Right now, I’m running on deadlines and adrenaline, with way too much to do.
She revises her list of my supposed assets, by the way, and the vee barely makes the cut. Apparently, the sexiest thing about me is that I’m tidy. Live and learn.
At night I usually cook, as Daph gets in later. Nothing fancy. Protein with rice and vegetables. Dinner on a cookie sheet. Pretty quick and fairly healthy. I like when we cook together, talking about our respective days, comparing notes and sharing stories. When I cook, she sits at the counter to watch, and we talk. A couple of times a week, Merrie invites us to a taste test as she fine-tunes her menu. Wednesdays, Daph meets up with her friends. Fridays we often order from Phil but a couple of times, we walk down to the taco truck. Saturdays, I give Sierra a guitar lesson. As the weather gets warmer, we talk about what she wants to do with the gardens around the house. Well, there aren’t any gardens yet, but Daph has a vision.
But the very best part is falling asleep every night in Daph’s bed, my arms around her, her scent filling my senses. I feel anchored in a way I never have before, as though I’ve found my place in the world.
My haven.
I’m not sure she shares my view. The lovemaking is great, but we never talk about our feelings. Each time I think of opening the subject, a couple of words is enough to make her freeze up, so I stop. What is she thinking? What is she feeling? I want to know but I recognize that I have to wait for her to want to tell me.
In the meantime, work on the theatre is progressing and organization is ramping up for the concert. I’ve rented part of Daph’s commercial building so Chelsea and her team have a place to work, and Daph had the internet connection and phones turned on before they even arrived. I let them loose at Jim’s to furnish the space and it looks good. Lots of solid wood and vintage chairs.
Merrie is adding a chef’s tasting on Thursday nights and I have it on good authority that Rafe is dying. He has yet to figure out a way to be in Empire on Thursday nights and at work on time Fridays.
Noah is building his audience by leaps and bounds. He’s relentless with his interviews and demands for updates, but I love watching him work. Chelsea is giving him some pointers, too, and I usually find him there when I check in. Chelsea gives him four pairs of tickets to give away, however he likes, and he runs with it. We also give six pairs to that radio station in Havelock, and set up a raffle for another two pair to local Empire residents.
Chelsea is all about building consensus, so she talks to people on the street, identifying their concerns over the concert. Thanks to that research, we organize a central number to book accommodation and matchmake attendees with residents willing to offer a short term rental that weekend. We also book some extra cleaning teams, given concerns about litter, and there will be a line of portable toilets set up in the alley behind the theatre.
Everything is arranged when the tickets go on sale. It’s an online sale at a ticketing site and I’m nervous that our fans may have forgotten us. It’s been over a year after all. Empire isn’t exactly close to anything. Two thousand seats seems like a lot all of a sudden.
We hold our breath as the clock ticks over. We’re all in Chelsea’s offices at Daph’s place. Daph is there, holding my hand, watching with me.
The show sells out in four minutes.
It would have been two if the server hadn’t burped.
There is hooting and cheering, lots of fist bumps and high fives. We march across the street to celebrate with dinner at Merrie’s.
The show is less than three weeks away, but we have wind in our sails now. Amanda is talking to utilities companies, discussing our electrical requirements for the night in question so we don’t blow the circuits and end up in the dark. She’s also lobbying for more cell phone bandwidth in the area, but even she might not be able to make that happen.
Best of all, the next day, the trucks arrive. I’m not the only one who shows up on Queen Street to watch the two big black tractor trailers roll in. I’m probably the only one so thrilled to see them. They look huge on Queen Street, bigger even than I know them to be. The sight brings back a lot of memories of different tours, different cities, different times. The trailers have the band logo on the side and they’re full of gear, lights and instruments and everything else, all pulled out of storage and packed by the crew that have driven them into town.
They park on the other side of Queen Street, leaving a gap between them so I can see The Carpe Diem Café. The buses are right behind the trucks, two black custom buses with tinted windows. These don’t have logos, and it’s good to see them again, our homes away from home. I’m missing Taylor so much that I halfway expect him to swing down from the first bus when it stops. Brent and Zach are in their bus, and have been catching up on the drive.
We have a hug in the middle of the street and it’s so awesome. We take a little tour and have dinner together at Merrie’s. It’s a Wednesday, so Daph is at Cameron’s. I invited her but she told me to catch up with the crew. The bistro is bustling, filled with a lot of our crew as well as some locals becoming addicted to Merrie’s fare. Merrie gives me a thumbs-up from the kitchen but doesn’t pause to chat.
I say goodnight to Brent and Zach, directing the bus drivers to The Maple Leaf Motel. Bruno has set up a spot for them behind the motel and out of view. They can park on an empty lot he owns and no one will see them. A lot of the other crew are staying at the motel anyway. The tractor trailers will move down to a secured parking zone at Port Cavendish once they’re empty.
Wookie wants me to come back to the theatre to admire the gear he’s already started to set in place, and that’s when I see it.
There’s a notice taped to the door of the theatre, one that must have been put there while we were at dinner.
Someone is bringing a challenge to city council, trying to stop the concert, and we are summoned to Havelock City Hall to defend our plan next Tuesday night at seven.
I don’t need three guesses to know who the instigator has to be.
I text Daph, asking for help with a plan.
She’s coming across the lawn from Cameron’s by the time I get close to her house, clearly livid. “How dare he?” she fumes, practically spitting sparks. “How dare he?”
She’s my own personal Valkyrie come to claim my soul forever.
It’s hers, all hers, and I’ll do whatever she wants.
What she wants is to head to the office and make an action plan. I call in the team as she starts writing points on the big whiteboard and I love that she’s on my side.
Good luck to Patrick. She’s going to feed him his own liver.
And I, along with all of Havelock city council and any interested bystanders, get to watch.
It does not get better than this.
The city council chamber in Havelock is packed when we arrive. I have no idea how much interest there is locally in civic matters, but a quick glance reveals many familiar faces. Of course, I know our team, and I expected Patrick to be here. Daph’s dad isn’t with Patrick but is sitting at the back of the hall with his neighbours. I’m guessing Patrick isn’t happy about that because he’s looking daggers at everyone.
Mackenzie is here with an older guy who has to be her dad, Augustine. They’re sitting with Cameron and Willow, and Willow’s uncle, Jim. Phil Chang is here with his mom, who is happily greeting everyone as if she’s at a party. My mom arrives and Willow urges her to sit with them. She smiles encouragement at me as she sinks gratefully into a seat.
Bruno gives me a wave from where he’s sitting with Marissa, then two thumbs-up. I spot the girl from the thrift store, though it takes me a minute to place her. She’s sitting with the guy from the convenience store, which must be closed tonight. He gives me a wise nod. The two guys who run the taco truck on Friday night slide into the seats beside him, the three of them conferring quickly.
I can’t believe they’ve all come. There are people who have donated to the theatre’s restoration, but a whole lot more who haven’t. There are people who I’ve seen at Merrie’s and some I’ve never seen before. It seems the entire town of Empire has turned out.
I hope at least half of them are on our side.
I have suited up, per Daph’s instruction, as has she. She told me to look like the solution not part of the problem and I do take instruction well. It’s a question of ceding to someone else’s expertise.
Sylvia and Una come in with Merrie, Una looking tired but determined. Sierra is behind them, engrossed in something on her phone. She’s followed by Noah, whose mom has brought him so he can get the story. They all sit behind Daph and me, a veritable army of support from the town that I once couldn’t wait to leave.
Will it be enough? I’ve no clue.
I don’t have time to worry about it because the meeting is being called to order.
In the very moment that Patrick glares at me in challenge, I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Rock the casbah, non-dad,” Sierra whispers and I cast her a smile.
“Picked that one just for me, did you, non-daughter?”
“Hey, just trying to connect, old man.” She gives me a cocky grin and I don’t have the heart to tell her that I wasn’t even a gleam in anyone’s eye when The Clash sent that one up the charts. I remember believing that everyone over twenty was nearly dead, and also how a few brushes with mortality change that view.
She probably listens to that same Havelock radio station now. Sooner or later, classic rock will bring us all together.
I watch as she goes to sit with Sylvia then look up to find Patrick’s basilisk stare still fixed on me, fury emanating from him in waves. I smile back at him, knowing what he’s seen and guessing what conclusion he’s made. I let my eyes narrow just a little, and send a message he won’t miss.
Hurt her and I will find you.
He inhales sharply and looks away, maybe the first time he’s ever blinked in a stare-down. Maybe he’s getting too old to rumble. Maybe I’ve not been so fierce before.
Either way, it starts the proceedings off right.
I love watching Daph in action. She’s cool and composed, dispassionate yet compelling. She has an outline and sticks to it—a plan, as it were. She takes her time, pausing to give emphasis to an important point, guiding the listeners through her argument. She’s taken her presentation right off the whiteboard she started to fill with points as soon as we heard about the challenge. It was a thing of beauty, Daph listing all potential issues, then our team adding how we’ve addresses each and every one. It showed up some gaps, and we stepped up to fix them.
Daph has no intention of losing and I’m glad to have her on our side.
Patrick has submitted a relentless list of grievances, but Daph takes them in turn, so thorough and reasonable that no one can argue with her. Even I have to think that the team has done a great job. Chelsea is right there to provide back-up at a moment’s notice, and River has a mountain of stats at his fingertips. That kid has a calculator for a brain and a photographic memory, too.
Daph has the whole presentation memorized and only pauses for effect. It’s an impressive performance, one that trumps Patrick’s forceful complaint that launched the meeting. The mayor and the other councillors are watching Daph and checking the crowd seated behind me, gauging the temperature.
I take a pointer from that and try to read the room. Daph is brilliant, but I wonder if she’s claimed their hearts. She looks a bit like a flash lawyer from Toronto in a great suit addressing a bunch of people who maybe shop at L.L. Bean. There’s a lot of plaid and many pairs of chinos, some jeans and casual sweaters. They’ll probably dismiss Patrick’s objections, but I want more than to win by the skin of our teeth.
I want everyone on our side, just like the people behind me.
In fact, their presence, the very fact that they all took the trouble to drive to Havelock on a Wednesday night to show their support, convinces me that they really care about the future of Empire.
Daph and I can win this with teamwork.
When Daph is done, she gives me a little smile as she returns to her seat. Only I see the glisten of perspiration on her nape and the slight tremble of her fingers. The mayor asks if there are other opinions, and I stand up. It’s not on the schedule. It’s not part of the plan. But I need to add my voice to this discussion.
This is how I’ll be part of the solution.
“I would like to add a few comments,” I say and the mayor nods his agreement. I shed my suit jacket and roll up my sleeves, loosening my tie a bit as I choose how to begin. “A lot of you know that I grew up in Empire,” I begin, my tone conversational. “It’s true that I’ve been gone a long time, but sometimes I think you have to leave a place to really appreciate it. I never saw how special Empire was before I came back this year. It’s a town where people don’t lock their doors, where everyone knows their neighbours, where news is exchanged over the back fence. It’s a town where residents feel safe, where families stay for generations, where people look out for each other. When I was a kid, I saw its limitations. I didn’t realize what a rare treasure it was.”
There is a faint murmur of agreement.
I walk to the middle of the room, taking the space Daph recently owned. “But when you realize something is precious, it’s only natural to want to protect it. In a way, Empire is the place I knew as a kid, and in a way, it’s not. The shopfronts are closed on Queen Street. People come to Havelock for work, for school, for groceries. Empire is becoming a ghost town and that breaks my heart. Ghost towns are empty places, haunted by the past but having no future. I want Empire to have a future, so I wondered what I could do to contribute to that.”
I meet a lot of concerned gazes, feeling that there’s agreement to that in the room. “I acquired a former diner on Queen Street and convinced a talented chef to open her farm-to-table bistro there. Now, there’s a great place to eat in Empire, The Carpe Diem Café, and there’s another business to buy from local producers. A shameless pitch here: if you haven’t made the trip to check out Merrie’s place, you owe it to yourselves to fix that. She’s an amazing chef.”
There’s a little ripple of laughter and I smile. “But one restaurant isn’t enough. I knew Empire needed more of an economic boost and when my band decided to hold a tribute concert, I wanted to have it in Empire. The Odeon Theatre has been sitting empty for years. We renovated it, my partners and I, and brought everything up to code. The building inspectors from Havelock have been there almost daily and they’ve had some great suggestions. It’s a heritage building, although it hasn’t been designated as such, built for visiting vaudeville shows over a hundred years ago. It’s a big part of Empire’s history, and of mine. I went to the movies there as a teenager. It’s beautiful inside and constructed to last, and I’m honoured that we’ve been able to give it a new life. It has a new roof, new wiring, updated plumbing and a new sprinkler system. We’ve taken out some of the two thousand original seats at the suggestion of the fire marshal, to provide better egress in an emergency. The best thing about it, though, is the acoustics. Every time we rehearse, I’m blown away.”
I turn to the councillors. “And so we have a building, originally constructed to host live performances, returned to its former glory to host one performance. We have a team of people committed to ensuring that Empire sees only benefits from this one event, people who have arranged much larger concerts in much more demanding venues in the past, people who have tried to consider every variable in their planning. And we have a community, a community with many, many people who have made donations to help finance the renovation of this building in their town.”
That’s when I have the idea and it’s so right that I just go with it. “I want the people of Empire to be happy with the results of this event, and I don’t want anyone worrying about damage or litter or noise. We’ve tried to address that already, as you’ve heard tonight, but there’s always more than can be done. I propose that we set up a hotline tomorrow and ensure that the people of Empire know about it. That way, anybody with a complaint during the performance, before or after, can immediately reach a live person, one who will address their concerns.” There are sage nods from the councillors and a few murmurs of approval. Chelsea gives me a thumbs-up and I know she’ll own this.
I turn to face the contingent from Empire. “Does that make sense to you?”
Bruno starts the applause and it sweeps through the observers, a crescendo that proves the appeal of the solution.
I turn back to the councillors. “I want this tribute to be a success for everyone involved and for Empire, too. I’ve been thrilled to have many of the people of Empire contribute to the renovation cost, and we’ll start giving tours of the refurbished interior, as soon as the building inspectors give us the all-clear.”
There is audible approval of that plan.
I nod to Noah. “Keep an eye on The Empire Chronicle for the schedule. If you don’t have that website bookmarked already, you might want to do it now.” Some people reach for their phones and Noah looks like he’ll burst with pride.
I meet the gaze of each councillor in turn. “I believe in trying to make a difference, and I believe in protecting what matters. For me, now, that’s Empire and its future, and if this tribute can be even a tiny part of a town’s economic recovery, I want to be a part of it. Thank you for your attention tonight and I hope you find our position compelling.”
There’s a louder round of applause from the people seated behind us, one that has many of them on their feet. That becomes contagious, flowing through the ranks of all the observers until we have a standing ovation.
It takes a few minutes for the council to restore order, then the mayor rises with a smile. “Our decision is clear. Patrick Cavendish, your objections have been overwhelmed. Luke Jones, we wish you and your tribute concert all the best. The concert is cleared to proceed as scheduled.”
Team Empire gives a hoot of victory and as soon as the meeting is dismissed, I’m surrounded by everyone who wants to congratulate us. My hand is shaken and my back thumped. My mom gives me a big kiss on the cheek and Daph looks delighted.
I have some tickets, of course, and when I’m thronged in the parking lot by people who want to tell me of their support, I give them out in pairs. Daph’s dad invites a lot of people back to his place for celebratory drinks and that gets everyone from Empire moving. Daph offers to stop at the liquor store while he goes straight home and we walk to the Honda hand in hand.
We are an unbeatable team.
“You rock,” I say to her. “You were amazing.”
“You weren’t so bad yourself.”
“I couldn’t have made that presentation alone. I would have missed a good half of the variables, but you’re so brilliant at seeing all the angles.”
“You couldn’t have told me about the hotline sooner?” Daph asks with a smile.
“I didn’t think of it sooner.”
She stops to stare at me. “You just thought of it then and there, and went with it?” Of course, she would dissect any idea, plan it out, check it and recheck it. I love how thorough she is, but sometimes impulse steers you true.
“I knew it was right. It had resonance.” She shakes her head and I bend down to whisper in her ear. “Just like being with you.”
And she smiles, the sight enough to light up my life forever. I kiss her, making the most of it since we have to be social for a while yet. The people from Empire honk at us as they leave the parking lot, but Daph is in my arms, kissing me back, and that’s the only thing that matters.
I know with sudden clarity exactly what I have to do.