Page 128 of Just Trouble

Just like that, hope crashes and burns. I stand and watch him step into my house, pick up his guitar and place it lovingly in the case. A heartbeat later, way too soon, he’s back at my side.

Looking relieved that something has been done.

The crack of my heart should be audible but it’s not.

He gives me a crooked smile. “Sleep well, Daph.” He squeezes my hand and then he’s gone, leaping off my porch and striding into the darkness.

I wonder how many fans who are camped out in town recognize him when he marches by.

I know that most of them yearn for him just the way I do.

I close the door and lean back against it, telling myself not to cry, then head to bed alone.

Taylor’s grandparentsarrive the next day, driving a red VW bus. I know it’s a reproduction because Luke told me, and maybe there’s a clue in how new it looks. As arranged, they park in my backyard. I like them immediately and give them the key Luke had. Since I’m the only person in Empire who locks their doors, they’ll need it to use the bathroom and kitchen, which I’ve invited them to do.

And then there’s Abbie.

She gets a ride with Merrie, who has gone into Toronto for supplies. Mackenzie, Willow and I are in the driveway when Merrie’s Jeep comes into view, and there’s a lot of noise when we welcome Abbie back. She’s cut her hair short since I last saw her and it looks great. We hug as if we’ll never be parted again, and the girls’ night proves to be epic. We stay up all night talking, both of us avoiding the subject of Luke so fastidiously that I know she knows something.

I don’t ask.

The air is sizzlingwith anticipation when we get to the Odeon on the night of the concert. There are spotlights playing across the sky and Queen Street is crowded with visitors. The taco truck has moved down from its usual spot to more prime real estate on this side of Big Red, and Merrie’s bistro has a lineoutside the door. It’s been that way for days, and as much as I’m enjoying it, I’m looking forward to getting my town back.

The Maple Leaf Motel has been booked out all week and the campgrounds are full. Every short-term rental in town is booked and more people are staying in Havelock or Port Cavendish. There are food trucks parked bumper-to-bumper tonight, most of which have come in from other towns, and a general atmosphere of festivity.

The line slowly snakes its way into the theatre and we find our seats. I gave my other ticket back to Cameron and evidently she convinced some guy to come along with her. I see Willow and Mackenzie, as well as a lot of other friends. Abbie is vibrating with excitement, her hand clasped in mine so we don’t lose track of each other. Cameras are flashing, and selfies are being taken by the thousands. It’s a small venue, but every seat is sold. They probably could have sold them twice over.

There are light-up bracelets for sale in the lobby, all of them in shades of blue and brandedTaylor’s Tributewith the year. There are gold lights instead of cigarette lighters for fans to wave in the darkness. There are T-shirts and bags and patches, CD’s of the band’s recordings, posters and every kind of memorabilia you can imagine. The line moves slowly, giving lots of time for impulse buys, and I’m amazed by the amount of money changing hands.

Our seats are in the front row, but there’s an eight-foot gap between the rail in front of us and the lip of the stage. Roadies dressed in black wearing headsets have taken up position along the edge of the stage at regular intervals. They’re all big buff guys who look like they can take down anyone or anything. I wave to Wookie who gives me a thumbs-up. The stage is hidden behind red velvet drapes that are reproductions of the original and just gorgeous.

The house is full and noisy when the lights start to dim slowly. There are gasps and whispers, and the audience falls slowly silent as darkness descends. I have goosebumps when there’s a drumroll, one that sends a vibration from the floor right through my body.

The drapes slide open soundlessly, as the white smoke from dry ice tumbles across the revealed stage. There’s a huge screen hanging at the back, one that becomes illuminated with a labyrinth in glowing white. ‘Taylor’s Tribute’ appears above it and the audience screams approval. There’s a clash of cymbals, a cascade on the drums, and a flash on stage.

I hear Luke before I see him, his voice low and rich on all sides, the song as familiar as my name. He’s silhouetted with his electric guitar against the billowing white smoke and the audience goes wild as he begins to sing one of the band’s biggest hits. He raises one hand when he reaches the chorus and everyone in the place sings along with him, a joyous roar that makes the walls vibrate.

Abbie grins at me in delight.

Taylor’s brother has stepped right into his big brother’s role, the rest of the band play as if they never stopped, and the entire audience is on their feet—me included—screaming and singing along before the end of the first song. I can see the sweat fly from Luke as he gets into his rhythm and my heart is thundering at the sight of him. He owns the stage, he holds the audience in the palm of his hand, his voice fills all the hollows for miles around, and he revels in it.

He's really good at this.

When that song ends on a triumphant note, he shouts to the crowd. “Welcome, all of you!” he calls and they roar in reply. “I’m Luke Jones and we are Mad, Bad & Dangerous 2 Know!” There is screaming in response to this, though it’s hardly news.“Thank you for joining us tonight for this tribute to Taylor Tate, a great friend taken from us too soon.”

There’s a bellow of agreement to that, even as Luke puts a hand over his heart. He waits for them to fall quiet again. “I miss Taylor so much, and I know that a lot of you do, too. Thank you for your messages over the past fifteen months. It means a lot to all of us that so many of you have made the trip to join us tonight for this special concert. I know there are people here from all across Canada, from the States, from England and Japan.” Someone bellows in the back and Luke puts a finger to the earpiece of his headset. “Australia? Really?” There’s a cheer of assent. “Our fansarethe best. No contest.” This is greeted with approval and cheers.

“Let’s hear it for Brent Fallon –” The bass player steps forward to take a bow. “And Zach Sutherland.” The drummer plays a riff on the drums, then stands up to take a bow. “And joining us tonight for the first time, Jason Tate, Taylor’s younger brother, who is stepping into some big shoes. We’re honoured to have him play with us for this special concert.” Jason plays a few bars, grins and bows. The cheering is enough to pierce my eardrums, and Abbie is jumping up and down beside me. “This is the first time I’ve been on stage without Taylor,” Luke says, his voice a little husky. “So, I need you all to sing along with me tonight. All right?”

They shout approval.

“All right. Then let’s start with one you have to know.”

Luke plays a familiar sequence and Jason picks it up. The crowd starts to stamp in time. It’s one of the band’s signature pieces, another big hit, and the house explodes in song as everyone sings along with Luke. There’s an energy in a live performance, a crackle of electricity that is never really captured on film or in a recording. I had no idea it could be this strong.

I also didn’t realize how it could be managed so well. Luke builds them up and lets them down slowly, feeding off the audience’s enthusiasm and working steadily toward a crescendo. The songs are arranged in a sequence that gets louder and faster, then slows again. There’s dry ice and the lights flash and flicker, the band rolling through their catalogue with enviable ease. I realize why he’s spent so much time practicing in the past few weeks. The show is slick and they never miss a note.

It’s a tribute to Taylor and they wanted to get it perfect.

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