A week before they were supposed to leave, just when Luke was daring to think that the universe was on his side, a new crisis erupted and delayed their start.
It was after one of their final shows, at a club in North Philly, where everything had gone smoothly and Luke was at last satisfied with the set, song flow and arrangements. The band played till last call, so once they finished the crowd was sent off and the club left empty except for a few staff and Luke's band, loading out their equipment.
Luke was at the bar, settling up with the club manager, when a sound rose up gradually from the back. He didn't pay much attention at first – angry voices were a staple of the tear-down process at the end of an exhausting night – but the clamour quickly grew to abnormal proportions, with loud bangs and thuds added to the rest of the tumult.
The manager and Luke exchanged looks, and Luke shrugged apologetically. He glanced around for Jerry, who had probably already left, and then at the stage. No one was there; the noise seemed to be coming from outside, where the band's rented Econoline was being loaded.
Then Leo put his head in the back door. “Luke! You better get out here. Emmett's got Art in a choke hold. I think he might kill him!”
“Oh shit.” Luke broke into a run.
Outside, Emmett was indeed clenching a purple-faced Art in what looked like some kind of wrestling hold, while Art clawed helplessly at Emmett's muscular forearm and kicked out his feet. Luke couldn't see Emmett's face but Gordon stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him in a low voice.
“Emmett!” Luke shouted, racing toward them.
Gordon turned to him with a warning look, his hand tightening on Emmett's shoulder. “Don't make it worse,” he said to Luke.
Luke stopped abruptly, but at that moment the tension in Emmett's body seemed to drain, and his grip on Art relaxed. A moment later he stood up, paused for a second while Art choked a little on the ground, then gave Luke a blank look and walked slowly past him, through the back door into the club.
The others stood around, staring at each other and then at Art.
“You okay?” Leo asked him finally.
Art gasped for breath, and struggled up to a sitting position. “That son of a bitch tried to kill me. Look at this!” He reached up to his neck, now ringed by a bright red rash. “You see this? He's fucking crazy. That's it, Luke – he’s gotta go!”
No one else had moved. Luke ran a hand through his hair, then reached down to help Art to his feet. “Jesus, Artie, sorry about…but I don't get it, man, what happened?”
“I told you, he's crazy! He just – he just lunged at me without warning!”
“But there must have been something…I better go talk to him.”
“What is there to talk about?” Art demanded. “You saw what he did! I'm telling ya, we can’t keep working with that motherfucker.”
His position seemed reasonable enough. Luke glanced around at the others, who were looking away, and finally nodded, slowly. “Okay. I'll go…”
“He used a racist insult,” Gordon said suddenly.
Luke stopped mid-turn, and turned back. “What?”
“This one.” Gordon gestured with contempt at Art, who was now propped against the van. “You know Emmett's been keeping him in line single-handedly for weeks, and Art doesn't like…”
“Fuck off, asshole!” Art cut in viciously. “Keep out of this, it's none of your business.”
It was an odd relief to find that the situation might be more complicated than Luke had first thought. He frowned, then nodded at Gordon. “Can you come over here, Gordie?”
The two of them walked to a quiet corner of the parking lot, where Luke asked Gordon to tell him the full story. Gordon quietly explained that Art had been causing trouble regularly for weeks, mostly in Luke's absence, and Emmett had been stepping in to stop fights and smooth things over. Tonight, after one too many incidents, Emmett had lost his temper – verbally, Gordon stressed – and threatened to tell Luke the next time it happened. Art had retaliated with a barrage of threats, insults and abuse, which Gordon repeated with cold precision.
“Leo heard it all as well. He'll back me up.”
“Art used that word?” Luke asked, disbelieving.
“Not the first time.”
Luke blanched. “I'm sorry, Gordie. I didn't know.”
“I don't blame Emmett for losing it. He was mighty provoked.”
“Me neither. I can't believe I been friends with Art all these years and never knew he was like that.”
Gordon gave Luke a look that he couldn't quite read.
“Anyways, thanks for telling me. Let's go back.”
They walked across the parking lot to where Art was now sitting in the open van doorway, holding his neck and talking with animated anger to the rest of the guys, who stood around uneasily.
“Art, you're fired,” Luke said. He did feel a slight pang when he said it – they'd known each other a long time – but no doubts.
“What? I'm fired?”
Luke glanced around. “Leo, you mind finding him a cab? He ain't riding in the van with Em. He can take the cab to a hospital if he wants. Art, you'll get your last paycheque next week. Okay, boys, finish up the loading and wait for me while I go find Emmett.”
He thought he saw a few small smiles among the other guys as he turned around and headed back to the club.
Inside, the room was almost dark, the lights off and the manager just finishing up at the bar. Luke looked around until he saw Emmett, his dark skin blending into the shadows in a corner.
“Hey, Em,” Luke said quietly.
Emmett looked up without speaking. As Luke drew closer, he could see in Emmett’s eyes what he was afraid of.
“It's okay,” Luke said quickly. “Art’s out, you're staying. I hope.”
There was a silence, and Luke slowly lowered himself into another chair in the corner. After a moment he added, “I didn't know what was happening. I'm sorry you got stuck with all that.”
They both sat quietly, until Emmett finally spoke. “I've been working so long on my temper. I really hate when I lose control.”
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Luke nodded in the darkness. “Same here. It ain't always easy when you're quick on the draw.”
Emmett sighed. “I haven't seen you lose it.”
“Not yet. You will. And Art wasn't pushing my buttons.”
After another long pause, Emmett spoke in a different tone. “We're supposed to leave in a week. How are you going to get another tech up to speed in a week?”
Luke gave a low chuckle. “Don't worry about that. This town's crawlin' with unemployed musicians, I'm sure I can find one who ain't a fucking racist.”
In the darkness, Emmett smiled slowly. “Or a psychopath?”
“Neither. We'll find us a nice normal equipment guy that gets along with everyone. Now come on, will ya? They want to lock the door here, and the guys are ready to go. Except for Art, he's takin' a cab.”
As they walked to the back door together, Emmett put a hand on Luke's shoulder. It was a large hand, heavy but warm, and somehow it filled Luke with a sense of comfort and security.
***
Emmett stood on the street corner near his house, backpack and duffle bag on the ground in front of him, holding Robbie's hand and trying not to show his excitement. Beside him, Clarissa stood stiffly in her blue wool coat and matching hat, little Walter in her arms.
Walter, a few months away from his fourth birthday, leaned toward Emmett. “When you come home, papa?” he asked, for perhaps the sixth time.
Emmett let go of Robbie's hand and reached over to take Walter. “In a few sleeps, Wally,” he said, his excitement once again tempered with guilt. “I'll see you again before you know it. Do you remember what I told you about what you need to do while I'm away?”
“Yes. Be a good boy for mama and grandma.”
Clarissa's lips tightened as she reached over for Robbie's hand without speaking. She might have agreed to this, but that didn't mean she liked it.
Emmett turned his head toward her and said in a low voice, “Clary…”
But she looked past him down the street. “Is that it?”
He turned. It was. Not a school bus exactly, but a short yellow bus that started honking as it got close enough for the driver to recognize him.
In the end, the tour had only been delayed a few days. Luke had quickly produced an older cousin with limited musical experience but a knack for tinkering. Mark was calm, stoic, and a quick learner. Everyone approved of the new addition, and within a few days Luke was confident enough to give Jerry a revised date for the tour to start. Things happened quickly after that – Emmett signed a contract, got an itinerary and instructions, finished his last day at work, did some final shopping for supplies, packed all his instruments and helped stack up equipment ready for loading. And now, here they were.
The bus pulled up at the corner and Emmett kissed Walter one last time. “Be a big boy for papa,” he whispered, setting his son gently on the ground. He reached for Robbie and lifted him up, then paused in surprise as Luke stepped out through the open bus door.
“Hey Em! Guess everyone's here to see you off.” Luke went directly over to Clarissa and offered his hand. “I'm Luke, the one taking your husband away from you.”
To Emmett's relief, Clarissa accepted his hand with a slight smile, as though even she couldn't quite resist Luke's charm.
“My wife Clarissa,” Emmett said hastily. “And these are my boys, this one's Rob and the little guy's Walt.”
“Hi Rob, hi Walt.” Luke squatted down to look Walt in the eye. “I promise to take real good care of your daddy and bring him home to you soon. Okay?”
Walter nodded, and Emmett kissed Robbie, whispered a couple of words to him and set him onto the sidewalk.
“These yours?” Luke gestured at the baggage, picked up the duffel bag and turned to toss it into the bus.
Emmett put his arms around Clarissa tentatively. “See you, baby. Love you.” She kissed him back, none too enthusiastically, and he reached down to grab his backpack. When he turned to give them all a last look and a wave, Clarissa seemed more sad than angry.
On the bus, Emmett grinned at Jerry, who was driving, and the rest of the guys, who called greetings to him, and lowered himself into one of the empty seats. Luke had already re-boarded and was sharing a seat with his current girlfriend, Wanda. Was he going to exempt himself from the rule about not bringing anyone else along? But at their final pickup stop, which was for Mark, the new instrument tech, Luke and Wanda both got off, and Emmett watched through the window as they said a lingering goodbye to each other while Mark loaded in his bags. Then Luke bounded back onto the bus alone, and they were off.
***
The plan was to head north first, bypassing New York for now, then cut over to the west as far as Kansas City, south to Nashville or maybe Memphis, depending on what Jerry could line up, turn east again and finally work their way back up the east coast to Philly. The band generally had bookings every night or two, and Jerry was still working on more, particularly in New York where he was trying to line up a week's worth of shows at one of the bigger clubs for sometime at the tail end of the tour.
That first night they had a gig in Ithaca, and afterwards would spend the night in Syracuse to be ready for a show there the next day.
“No rest for the wicked!” Luke said gleefully.
Having got off to a late start, they arrived shortly before the band was due to start, rushed and hungry, with just enough time to unload and set up before the bar's manager hurried them on to the stage. As usual, Luke's mood switched instantly when the lights turned on him, and even Emmett, who had seen a lavish spread in the greenroom that he hadn't had chance to sample, quickly forgot his hunger in the joy of playing.
It was Emmett's first time playing a real tour and he wondered how different the shows would be. But the bar in Ithaca, with its low stage set in front of a smoke-filled room full of run-down wood tables and chairs, and its small crowd of enthusiastic music fans mixed with stalwart drinkers, could have easily been exchanged with any one of the local Philly venues.
They did two sets and the second one was even more fun, after Emmett grabbed a bite to eat during the break. Afterward Jerry allowed them a half-hour or so to rest and finish off what was left of the catering before announcing that it was time to finish loading up the bus and get on their way.
Emmett, fortified, took on his full share of lifting and carrying, loading equipment through the bus' back doors. There was no separate storage space, so the three back seats were piled high with baggage, instruments and stage equipment, leaving just enough room for the band and crew at the front.
When Emmett got on, he slid his bulky frame into the last empty seat and leaned his forehead against the window, watching as Luke and Jerry chatted with the bar manager under the street lamps in the parking lot. Luke favoured jeans that were more straight-legged than the flares most guys wore, giving him a slimmer profile in the dusky light. After a few minutes the men wrapped things up with handshakes and claps on the shoulder, and Jerry and Luke crossed the empty lot to climb up into the bus.
“So…” Luke said, heading up the aisle toward Emmett as Jerry took the driver's seat. “How's your first night on the road?”
“I thought it went pretty good, sound wasn't too bad considering the set up time.” Emmett looked up brightly, still wired after almost four hours of playing.
The others were slumped into their seats, drained, leaning against windows with closed eyes. Luke glanced around at them before swinging himself into the seat beside Emmett.
“Yeah, it’s better when we get a sound-check beforehand. The guys had no time for lights or sound.”
“Sounded good to me though.” Emmett slid over a bit to make more room for Luke. “And the crowd seemed happy.”
“Yeah, good crowd tonight, lotsa response.” Luke stood up, did a quick headcount, and called out to Jerry: “All accounted for, let's move out.” He dropped down again and leaned his head against the seat back, then slid a sideways glance at Emmett. “You see those two chicks in the front, the one with the red sweater…?”
“The blonde with the dark-haired friend, yeah, I thought she might try to rush the stage at one point.”
“I seen them before, maybe in Buffalo or something. They must follow us around.”
“Or they've got friends here in Ithaca. I didn't see them backstage after.” The bus had begun to move, pulling slowly out of the parking lot and onto the road, the interior dimming as neon and street lights faded behind them.
“You get enough to eat?”
“Oh man, that spread in the greenroom…!” Emmett enthused.
Luke laughed. “Yeah, you know, I don't eat much before we go on, I still get too nervous…”
“But you ate some after though, right?”
“You ain't worried about me, are you?” Luke asked with his self-deprecating chuckle. “You sound kinda concerned.”
“I kinda am.” Emmett looked down at him, marvelling openly. “You keep it up for three and a half hours straight, hardly any break, no food…! One of these days you're gonna pass out.”
“I ate enough after, though. Hey, you got a coupla real cute kids, man.”
Emmett couldn't help his proud smile. “Yeah, they're good boys.”
“Cutest kids I ever seen. And nice to meet Clarissa. She wasn't looking too happy though.” Luke shot Emmett another one of his sidelong glances. “She ain't thrilled about you comin' along on this tour, I guess.”
Outside the bus windows, dark empty fields rushed by, the town already faded behind them. Emmett didn’t want Clarissa's resistance to reflect on his own enthusiasm. “I mean, she's worried about being on her own with the boys. But I have my mother coming in to help her out. She'll be okay.”
“If you say so.” Luke dropped his head against the seat back again. “Wake me up when we get to Syracuse,” he drawled, shutting his eyes.
“Sure thing,” Emmett promised, and turned his face to the empty black square of window beside him.
By the time the bus pulled into their motel on the outskirts of Syracuse, Luke's head had fallen onto Emmett's broad shoulder and Emmett barely had the heart to shake him awake.