Chapter Twenty-Four
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was late afternoon. On stage in the middle of the massive stadium, Cash gazed up at the empty seats soon to be filled with tens of thousands of cheering fans. Though surrounded by busy bees, he was immune to their frenetic activity. His lifelong goal was about to be realized.
“Hey!”
Startled, Cash turned and saw Lenny striding towards him. The drummer’s tall, lean body and cheerful demeanor often reminded Cash of a Great Dane puppy, and rarely failed to make him smile.
“Pretty trippy, huh?” Len remarked, waving his arms in the air.
“That’s an apt word,” Cash replied with a grin.
“I can’t believe we’re here. I still remember that night at that crappy club in Austin. Do you remember what I’m talking about?”
“Of course. You’d just finished a drum solo and I said, one day, Lenny, we’ll play at Texas Stadium. It feels like yesterday, and yet a lifetime ago.”
“Yeah, it’s weird. I kind of wish it was the old stadium, but, hey, we’re here, and this place is fucking crazy.”
They stood silently, connected yet separate, battle-fed comrades in arms.
“About this girl,” Lenny began, “it seems like she’s different.”
Cash turned and looked at him. Though he and Lenny were like brothers, they rarely discussed their private lives, but word would have traveled through the inner circle. Cash had met someone, and that someone was why he’d not been on the plane with them flying out of New York.
“Yeah, Len,” Cash replied with a grin. “She is. Very.”
“Will she be coming tonight?”
“Yep. You’ll meet her after the show.”
“Is she Sapphire Eyes?”
“Yes, Len, she’s Sapphire Eyes.”
“I heard she sings like a lark.”
“Don’t worry, Len. Our band will always be the Cash Colt band. Nothing will change that, but now that we’ve made it here,” he declared, waving his arms towards the stands, “I’m not sure what’s next for us.”
“I know what you mean,” Lenny said solemnly. “It’s kind of weird.”
“It’s the journey, not the destination. I don’t know who said that, but I kind of get it now,” Cash muttered, then taking a breath, he added, “Len, can I ask you something personal?”
“Yeah, sure, always.”
“Do you ever think about settling down with Cheryl? Maybe have a couple of kids?”
Cheryl was Lenny’s longtime girlfriend. Everyone knew she waited faithfully at home, welcoming him back after every tour with a cheery smile.
“Yeah, I guess. I love the road, though.”
“But, do you love her?”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, she’s comfortable,” he replied, staring at his feet, then lifted his head with a solemn expression. “Yeah, Cash, I love her. Maybe I should think about it. Fuck, this is all so surreal.”
“We shouldn’t be talking about this shit right now. We have to focus on the show,” Cash said briskly, attempting to snap them out of their somber mood. “It has to be absolutely breathtaking.”
Lenny stared at him for a moment, then broke into a huge grin and ran to the microphone still live from their soundcheck.
“HEY EVERYONE, WE’RE FUCKING HERE!” he bellowed, “THIS GIANT ARENA, WE ARE FUCKING HERE!”
The busy bees stopped and stared, then clapped and hooted, and the technicians, the myriad of workers who had traveled with them mile after mile, launched into their own chorus of exultation. Buoyed by Lenny’s declaration of triumph, Cash moved quickly to his side and took the microphone from its stand.
“WE MADE IT!” he yelled, then paused, waiting for the whistles and applause to wane. “You guys,” he continued, “you have been with us for years, putting up with the endless hotels, living out of suitcases, and let’s not forget, the pain of having to deal with all those girls, girls and more girls—”
“Thanks for that Cash!” an anonymous voice called out from the crowd cutting him off.
“You’re welcome,” Cash laughed, “and I was about to say, without you the show couldn’t go on! It’s been a great tour, and now, here we are. Let’s make it the best show ever seen!”
As the applause and shouts of encouragement echoed through the massive space, he and Lenny left the stage and headed for the dressing rooms.
“You off to do your thing now?” Lenny asked, knowing Cash spent at least an hour running through his martial arts exercises before every show.
“I am, and I’ll be in your dressing room at the appointed hour.”
The band would all meet in Lenny’s dressing room ten minutes before taking the stage.
“Fuck this is weird,” Lenny muttered, shaking his head.
“It’s going to be an incredible ninety minutes. Try not to think too much.”
“You’re right. Later!”
As Cash walked briskly forward, he had to admit Lenny was right. It was weird, but weird in a brilliant, fabulous way. He’d been traveling down the yellow brick road and had just arrived at Emerald City, but Emerald City was the Stadium, and there was no lion, tin man or scarecrow, just the surprising, beautiful Becky. She was a magical end to the tour, one he could never have imagined.
* * *
After taking in a few sights and having an early dinner, Becky, her father and Joan, were collected by a long, black, sleek limousine. Feeling like rock stars themselves, they laughed and joked as it carried them through the Dallas streets. When they approached the stadium, men with glowing orange sticks directed the car towards the assigned parking area for the vehicles carrying the VIP guests. When it rolled to a stop, a young man approached the driver’s window.
“Name?” he asked, studying a list on his clipboard.
“Turner,” the driver announced.
“Turner, hold on. Ah, yes, wait here, please.”
Moments later, a burly, serious man arrived at the car. He was dressed in a suit and tie, and had a wire running from under his collar into his ear.
“Welcome folks,” he said, opening the door, his sombre face breaking into a surprisingly warm smile. “My name is Alan. Follow me, please.”
As the small party of three climbed out of the car and fell into step behind him, he led them to a six-foot-high, wire mesh fence, where an equally serious security guard opened a locked gate.
“I feel as if we’re walking into enemy territory,” David remarked.
“Security is very tight, sir,” Alan replied. “People try all sorts of ways to get backstage.” Walking briskly forward and entering a door leading into the stadium, he turned down a wide, concrete corridor to an elevator. There wasn’t as much activity as Becky expected.
“I would have thought there’d be more people running around,” she said. “Is it normally this quiet?”
“This is a restricted area,” he said. “Very few workers have access.”
As David and Joan shared a glance, David grinned. In his former life as a Master Chef he had been in many ‘highly restricted areas.’ It was security-speak for VIP.
The elevator whisked them to the top floor, opening to a carpeted hallway with recessed lights, and photographs of famous football players and other celebrities gracing the walls. Stopping at a door, Alan knocked softly. It was opened by an attractive young woman wearing a white shirt and black skirt.
“The Turner party,” he declared, then stepping aside, he added, “Enjoy the show.”
“Welcome,” the young woman smiled, ushering them in. “My name is Victoria, and I’ll be your hostess for the evening. Please make yourselves comfortable. What can I get you to drink?”
Becky scanned the sumptuous surroundings. Three rows of large leather chairs, strategically tiered, faced the field below. A wide screen television was mounted in each corner, at the back of the room was a buffet table with gourmet treats, and a cocktail bar behind it.
“Wow, this is really something,” she said as she walked down to the front row.
“It’s very elegant,” Joan remarked quietly. “I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“We’re in for a memorable night,” David declared happily as he sat next to Becky.
“I think,” Joan said softly, “that is quite an understatement.”
The sound of the door opening caused Becky to turn around, and she saw a tall, well-dressed, attractive man moving towards them.
“Hello, Becky, and you must be Mr. Turner,” he began, perching himself on the edge of the seat next to Joan. “I’m Sam Reed. I just wanted to pop in and introduce myself. We’ll all be at the party afterwards, but it will be bedlam.”
“Mr. Reed, it’s wonderful to meet you, and I’m thrilled you like my performance at The Cowbell,” Becky exclaimed with a wide smile.
“It’s a pleasure, a real pleasure,” David said earnestly, shaking Sam’s hand. “This is Joan Hancock, a long-time family friend.”
“Hi, Joan, it’s nice to meet you. Have you seen Cash in concert before?”
“No,” David said quickly, “but I’ve been a huge fan for years. I’ve always thought he’s more talented than the greats, and one day people will know that. Jagger and Bon Jovi were terrific, they still are, but Cash’s voice is like velvet, and his songs—”
But David’s praise was interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone.
“Excuse me,” Sam said, quickly rising to his feet and pulling his phone from his pocket. “It appears duty calls,” he continued, glancing at the screen. “I’m afraid I have to dash, but I agree with you, David. Cash is uniquely gifted. If you need anything just ask Victoria here. She knows how to reach me.”
“I’m sure you’re extremely busy,” David replied. “Thank you for taking the time to stop in.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Sam hurried from the room, a raven-haired, green-eyed beauty passed him and shared a quick, warm greeting, then heading to the seats, she introduced herself as Cheryl Hawkins, the drummer’s girlfriend.
“You must be friends of Cash. You’ll love the show. The drummer’s the best bit,” she laughed, then ordering a beer from the hostess, she settled in behind them.
A few minutes later, an older woman dressed in tailored clothes and perfectly styled hair, entered the box and hugged Cheryl, who happily introduced her. The woman’s name was Cathy Stern. She was married to Andrew Stern, the band’s road manager.
“I’ve barely seen him for eight months,” Cathy declared, “but I was able to fly into some cities and spend some time with him. How are you Cheryl?”
“Great, and I’m so glad the tour is finally over. Lenny will be home for a while.”
Becky stared down at the stage, pondering the short conversation. If she and Cash did end up together, would she be left alone for weeks, possibly months at a time? If she became successful and went out on tour, would she be the one leaving him behind?