Part 14
Upon hearing the ring, he dove into his bag and retrieved his mobile phone, pressing a button to accept the call and resting his free hand against the armrest on the door.
"Hello?" he greeted the mystery caller. "Oh! Russ! Sorry, I didn't tell you I was going out...No, we're not far from the Metro...I'm with Rich...Oh, that's right, you haven't met him! Well, when we go back you can...Dinner? Um, i'm not sure, hang on a second." He covered the phone with his palm and turned to me. "It's my manager. He wants to know whether we'd like to join him for dinner. Are you up to it?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't mind. I'd like to meet him. Where is it?"
"There's this really nice restaurant about ten minutes from here. Russ and I have been there a few times before, it's lovely." He returned the phone to his ear. "Russ, ya still there? Yeah, we'll meet you at the restaurant. See you soon."
As he hung up the phone and put it back into his bag, I turned the key and started the car, revving it to life. "OK, there are thousands of restaurants around here, which one do I head towards?"
"Just keep going straight ahead and i'll give you directions." As he buckled his seatbelt, he pulled a tissue from a side compartment in his bag and started dabbing at his tearstained face, lowering the sun visor once more. "Christ, I hope my face isn't this red by the time we get there."
Still feeling concern for him, I reached out and gently placed my hand on his shoulder. "Are you going to be okay?"
He nodded. "Yeah, i'll be fine. I just needed that release." He began to chuckle. "You must think i'm such a headcase. You've only known me for two days, and yet now you know more about me than what most people do."
"I don't think you're a headcase," I assured him honestly. "Actually, I admire you for having the strength to see yourself through all these troubles you've had to face. It takes a lot to do that."
He smiled despite his red face and his damp eyes, leant over and gave me a soft, lingering kiss. I felt the salty taste of tears on his lips and returned the kiss, taking those tears away. I had never felt such an instant connection with anyone befoe, and it felt a little strange, but not in a bad way. Paul was definitely one-of-a-kind. Out of all the men and women in the world that he could've picked from, he chose me, someone completely ordinary. What could I possibly have to offer him that all the others didn't? I certainly wasn't wealthy, I had never been on an A-list in my life, and I preferred curling up on the couch with a classic movie on TV and an endless supply of popcorn rather than the sparkle and bright lights of stages and nightclubs. To be honest, when I compared myself to those who shared Paul's company, I was frankly plain. Maybe Paul craved for at least one aspect of his life to be calm and relaxed, and not overtaken by the chores of being on celebrity status. Whatever the reason, I felt honored to be the person that Paul chose, and wanted to do whatever I could to ensure that he would never have to experience scum like Wil or Paul's father ever again. I wanted to track them down and break them with my bare hands - starting with Wil. I got the feeling that he'd be pretty easy to find once Paul and I got back to the Metro. But then I would have to convince Paul that he had the strength to fight back. When so many people downsize you in your life, after a while you start to believe what they're saying. But if there was any chance I could turn this around, I'd jump for it.
As Paul and I drove off, with Paul giving me directions to the restaurant, I began to wonder if his manager was going to be any better than the others.
-----
My worries about Paul's manager were put to rest once Paul and I arrived at the restaurant. Russell Coggan rose from his chair to greet us as we approached the table, wrapping Paul in a friendly hug and giving me a warm handshake. The smile on his face looked unforced, and when he spoke he showed professionalism when discussing the industry but casualness otherwise. We ate, drank and talked for at least 90 minutes, enjoying the relaxed environment in contrast to the mood of the Metro.
I studied Paul and Russell, or Russ as he preferred, during after-dinner drinks. Paul seemed completely at ease with Russ, and I got the impression that he saw his manager not only as a boss and friend, but as a father figure, which was great because he needed some sort of father figure in his life. Russ knew Paul had been crying and asked if he was okay. When Paul assured him that he was fine, he nodded and changed the subject, not wanting to pry. They had an understanding between them where if one didn't feel like talking about something, then the other would let it slide and wait until they were ready. No pressure, no hassles. I learned later that Paul ended up briefly telling Russ what happened while I went to the bathroom and called Tez. Just before it was time to head back to the Metro, Russ divulged some exciting news to Paul.
"I almost wasn't going to tell you, but I think you should know who some people in the audience are going to be tonight. There'll be some people from the press, members of local and national acts...but most important some industry folk. They'll be the people you'll need to impress the most, because if even one of them thinks your performance isn't very good, their opinions will influence many of the others. It sucks, but it's the way it works."
"So who'll be here from the industry?" Paul asked, trying not to show his nerves. "Anyone I know?"
"Ian Meldrum, Michael Gudinski...and they're only the appetizers."
"ONLY? Jesus, i'll see these guys in the audience and completely shit myself! How do you know they'll definitely be there?"
"I sent out a few faxes letting them know about a certain singer i'm managing who they wouldn't want to miss, because he's gonna blow them away." Russ grinned. "Not one of them said no. This could be the break you're after, kiddo."
"Oh, man, I hope so," Paul prayed, reaching over to give Russ a grateful hug. "If I fuck up tonight, i'll never forgive myself. I really need their support."
"Well, they'll help in a big way, definitely. The fans play a huge role, too. They bought the album, they come to the gigs, they push for radio airplay...basically, they're just as important to impress as the business people."
"Great, that takes a lot of pressure off, thanks mate," Paul said sarcastically.
"I know it sounds daunting, but I saw what you did at the New Year's gig. This'll be a piece of cake," I said supportively. "I know you can do it."
Paul smiled appreciatively and toyed with a loose strand of hair. "It's great you have so much faith in me, thank you...But, going by the guest list, tonight's gonna be one of the most important gigs i'll ever do. And to tell you the truth, i'm getting scared."
Before he could say more, a teenage girl shuffled excitedly to Paul's side, holding a paper napkin in her hand.
"Um, excuse me," he said softly, tapping him on the shoulder. Paul turned to face her. "Are you Paul McDermott?"
"Yeah - is that good or bad?" Paul quipped, giving her a smile that made her giggle shyly.
"No, it's good. I'm going to see you tonight."
"Oh, you are? Where will you be? Wait - don't tell me. Front row. I won't settle for anything less than front row!" he teased, pretending to be firm by pointing at her. She giggled again, holding out the napkin in her hand.
"Would you sign this for me, please?"
"Sure! Do you have a pen?" The girl shook her head, and Paul turned to me. "Do you?"
I patted my pockets and shrugged apologetically. Russ fumbled through his bag and held a ballpoint pen out to Paul. He leant the napkin on the table and prepared to write.
"What's your name, sweetheart?"
"Shari."
As he wrote a message to her on the napkin, he made friendly conversation to make her relax a little. "Are you still at school?"
"Ah, yeah, i'm in Year Eleven."
"So what are you going to do when you leave school?"
"I want to be a singer. I love it."
"Oh, that sounds good." He scrawled his signature on the napkin and lifted his head, handing it to her with a smile. "Here you go, Shari. Good luck with your singing."
"Thank you!" Shari turned to walk away, but paused and turned back, her shyness returning. "My mum's got a camera with her. Could I get a photo with you, please?"
"Of course, bring her over!"
Shari smiled, said "I'll be back in a sec" and hurried towards her mother at a table situated on the other side of the room. Paul leant back in his chair, still smiling.
"Speaking of fans, Russ..." he said, chuckling along with Russ. "I hope I don't get her into trouble by telling her to be in the front row, though. I don't want her getting squished, the poor little thing!"
"Well, Rich and I will leave you alone for a second so you can talk to your fan here." Russ looked over at me. "Rich?"
"Ah, yeah. I'll be right back, Paul."
As Paul smiled at the girl hurrying back to our table with her mother in tow, Russ led me around a corner and into the hallway that led to the restrooms.
"I didn't want to say this in front of the kid back there," he said, straightening his leather jacket. "You can tell Paul's nervous about the concert, right?"
"Now that you've told him who's going to be there, yeah, he's definitely getting the jitters."
"Paul really needs to have more confidence in himself and his performance. Sure, he forgets about his troubles onstage and lets himself go, but he doesn't cope too well when you put extra pressure on him to do his best. He's got the potential - he's one of the best talents i've ever had the pleasure of managing, and he'll go far with or without my help - but he needs reassurance every now and then. Otherwise he pushes himself more than necessary, tries too hard. I can tell he likes you and feels comfortable around you, more relaxed. Could you stick by him tonight? Just until he gets onstage, and I need you to be there when he steps off."
I nodded. "Yeah, sure. You wouldn't have to ask me to do that, i'd do it anyway."
Russ smiled. I definitely liked this guy. He was a breath of fresh air from most of the other creeps Paul had to live with. " "Paul's a good kid. But the guys he fools around with are the complete opposite. Especially that Wil prick, I never liked him from the start. I'm only Paul's manager, though, I can't tell him who he can hang out with and who he can't. Paul should stay away from guys like him, but he doesn't. It's a cycle he goes through that never seems to stop."
"He broke up with Wil earlier today, and he and I have just gotten together."
"You and Paul? Well, I hope you aren't like the others, Richard. He's had enough to deal with."
"No. I'm nothing like them. I swear. I wouldn't want to hurt him."
He paused, studying me, before nodding in satisfaction. "I know you wouldn't. I believe you. Look out for him, will you? He's needed someone like you for a long time."
Paul rounded the corner, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. "OK, are we ready to go?"
Russ gave me a glance. "Yeah, let's get out of here. The Metro would be starting to fill by now."
-----
With only seconds to go before the show was due to begin, Paul stood sidestage with me, wishing his band members good luck. They could sense that he was nervous, but he was trying to conceal it by pretending he was cold and folding his arms tightly, shuffling from one foot to the other. The lights went out in the audience and the crowd began to cheer, whistling and chanting Paul's name. The band made their way onstage one by one, slapping Paul high-five's as they passed.
Once they were all onstage, Paul stopped trying to hide his nerves, turned to me and shook his head quickly, beginning to shake.
"Rich, i'm so fucking nervous, I feel sick!" he exclaimed, refusing to look onto the stage or into the audience. "What if I forget the lyrics? What if I trip and fall head-over-arse? I can't afford to screw up, not in front of these people. I can't screw up!"
"Paul, relax." I held him by the shoulders and gently massaged them to help him calm down. "Just try and pretend that Ian, Michael and all those other guys aren't in the audience. Pretend you're back at the New Year's Gig. They don't care if you make mistakes, they'd understand that occasionally people do that, they'd forgive you for them. They're not a pack of vultures, Paul, they're your fans, and they're going to love you no matter how many lyrics you forget or how hard you fall on your arse. Are you listening to me?"
Paul nodded, widening his eyes as his band began to play an instrumental piece as an introduction to the show, letting the suspense build for the audience and letting Paul know that he's due onstage in a matter of seconds.
"Take a deep breath. Come on, do it." He did as he was instructed. "Now slowly let it out...Relax your body...Do it again...Once more...Good. Now remember what i've told you, okay? Just have a good time - that's what everyone's here for."
Although some nerves still remained, Paul looked a lot better. He mustered a smile and hugged me, kissing me softly. The band went into the intro of the first song of the set, and Paul took another deep breath, knowing that if he didn't get out there and do this now, he would be kicking himself for the rest of his life. The opportunity to get the break he wanted was finally here and he was going to take it.
"Wish me luck," he whispered into my ear.
"You don't need luck," I replied as we pulled apart. He turned to the stage, rolled his shoulders back and began climbing the steps.
Part 15