Front Man: The Complete Trilogy (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.