Chapter 54: Into the Sunset

02 June 2001 – Main Street, Woburn, Massachusetts

The crowd packing the reception space hopped in time to the beat of the music, hands in the air. Otis Day and the Knights’ version of ‘Shout’ had everyone reenacting the Delta House dance scene from Animal House and laughing while they did so. Charlie handed a loyal fan her microphone at the end of the song.

He shouted, “‘Wait till Otis sees us!’” to the crowd; the rest of the crowd yelled back “‘He loves us!’” completing the quote. The band laughed and clapped.

The reception space, Frangelico’s, agreed to host Charlie Flair and the Queens’ last Boston-area performance; the band’s normal venue, Bentley’s Pub, was next door but didn’t have the capacity for the anticipated crowd. The crowd which turned out to bid farewell to their favorite cover band shocked the managements of both locations, nearly exceeding Frangelico’s capacity of five hundred. Dom Frangelico was glad he’d made the deal with his neighbor for fifty percent of the night’s door receipts and seventy-five percent of the bar receipts; that total would far outpace a normal night’s earnings given the size of tonight’s crowd.

Charlie and the band were all smiles watching everyone have a good time; the band’s good feelings overcame the sadness they felt at ending a successful ten-plus year run. While discussing their set list, the band decided to let the member who wouldn’t join them in Provincetown perform the final song.

“Hi, everyone,” George Adler said to the audience just after one in the morning; they roared back their response. “Like Charlie said at the beginning of the show, we’d like to thank you for coming out to our last Boston-area performance.” More cheering.

“While everyone else will play the final appearances in Provincetown this summer, I will not.” Startled gasps echoed through the room. “I’ve been offered the chance to go on tour with Kelsey Goodacre as a guitarist starting next week.” Murmurs joined the gasps; Kelsey Goodacre was a major star, having successfully blended her country roots with an edgy rock sound over the past three years. “Sadly, that means that tonight is this grumpy old man’s final performance with his friends.”

“My friends have offered me much encouragement over the years I’ve been playing with them, including encouraging me to grab this new opportunity. One other thing they’ve offered me is the opportunity to pick tonight’s final song.”

“This song was released back in 1984, during my junior year at Northeastern. Anyone who grew up around Boston then should recognize it, especially if you listened to WBCN like me; it was still getting airplay years later, so some of you children might recognize it, too. I didn’t really understand the meaning of the lyrics then, nor do I now other than maybe an innuendo or two, but I’ve come to my own interpretation of them. Some of the lyrics are obvious and fit tonight: the singer doesn’t want the night to end. I don’t want tonight to end either, but we’ve been playing for over three hours and it’s nearing Last Call.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, from their album Stare At The Sun, this is ‘Don’t Say Goodnight’ by Jon Butcher Axis.”

The roar of those who knew the song drowned out part of the song’s intro but they quieted before the lyrics started; Jeff recognized the song once they did. George’s strong voice belted out the tune while his fingers worked their magic on the driving guitar’s sound.

When I was a boy but not quite a man
We’re dealin’ with life just as best as can
Never can tell me if friends could fly
It’s not that we’re scared

Changes come slow and they come anyway
You can’t live forever some people say
As long as I have this time I’ll feel alright
But tried as hard as we could

Let me lay on you (Don’t say goodnight)
Make the clock stand still, we’re so young now
Let me lay on you (Don’t say goodnight)
I don’t wanna leave, I never can say goodnight

Those who knew the song sang along with the band; the majority singing added their voices to the main part of the song while some chose the background (Don’t say goodnight) line.

Fourteen months I feel just the same
People walk by without a name
The song is forever, I wonder why?
I tried as hard as I could

Fourteen days more and forty nights
The time it takes to set things right

Let me lay on you (Don’t say goodnight)
Make the clock stand still, we’re so young now
Let me lay on you (Don’t say goodnight)

I don’t wanna leave, I never can say goodnight

Oh, let me lay on you (Don’t say goodnight)
We’re so young now

Let me lay on you (Don’t say goodnight)
Don’t say goodnight
(Don’t say goodnight)

I can’t hear you say (Don’t say goodnight)
Please, don’t let me say (Don’t say goodnight)
No no, no no
Don’t say goodnight (Don’t say goodnight)
Night night night

(Don’t say goodnight)
(Don’t say goodnight)

By the end of the song the audience’s singing drowned out the band’s, but no one cared. The cheering at the end of the set shook the rafters of Frangelico’s and went on for minutes while the band took their final bows; they stepped off the stage to receive congratulations from their families before saying goodbye to their fans, some of whom had been following them since their first show in 1990. It was like being at a political rally where everyone wanted to shake hands; the band made sure they made time for the people who’d supported them.

“You’re leaving Malden Hospital then too, George?” Jeff asked his former patient while the band packed their equipment.

“Sadly, yes; they’ve been really good to me since I dried out. My last day was Friday. They gave me two weeks’ vacation time in lieu of notice.”

“How did this chance come up?”

“Miss Goodacre and her band overheard some of the people who work at the FleetCenter talking about our shows last week when the tour was in Boston; I guess the people there are fans and were talking us up something good. Our show last weekend was an early show on Saturday and the tour had an off-day due to scheduling. They figured ‘what the hell?’ and drove up to see us.

“She and the band came up to the stage to talk to us after the gig was over that night. Her lead guitarist’s wife has cancer; he’s leaving the tour to be with her while she has surgery and chemo. He told me I’d make a good addition to the band if I was interested.”

“When will you start with the tour?”

“She’s playing outside of Portland this weekend. When her tour drives back down 95 they’ll pick me up. The next show is in Albany, but I won’t start playing with them until we get to Indianapolis next month so I can learn her songs a little better. I’ll be playing rhythm guitar for now.”

“Are you worried about crawling back into the bottle while you’re touring?”

“It’s a dry tour,” George remarked. “Kelsey’s in recovery also as you know. It’s part of our contracts that we won’t drink on tour; anyone caught drinking is bounced from it.”

“‘Kelsey?’ You’re already calling your boss by her first name?”

“She’s the one who told me to!”

“We’re sorry you’re leaving so soon, George, Keiko and I,” Jeff offered, speaking for his wife who was tucked up against him. “Keep in touch when you can.”

“How’s life on the supervisor’s truck?” Jeff asked his former partner over the phone.

“I’m really enjoying it. I like the different problem-solving that goes on, the different kind of interaction with people at facilities I’m seeing, supporting the crews. It’s cool.”

“How long has it been now?”

“It’s only been three weeks. I started training on June first with Pete DiFranza; Pete says I’m doing well and figures I’ll be on my own by the end of July.”

“Quick!”

“Well, you kinda cleaned them out when you took that bunch of supervisors west. They have shifts to cover.”

“Does three qualify as a ‘bunch?’”

“I don’t care; it’s given me another chance for a change.”

“What about the guys from Station Five?”

“Nick’s just made the list for promotion to district chief; Barry Anderson’s moving up to captain, though he’ll be moving to Engine One; Paul Giaconti and Stan Williams are retiring.”

“The band’s breaking up.”

“It is,” she sighed. “All I can do is try to make sure Medford gets the same level of care as before.”

“Crack that whip, Shawna.”

“I bet I know what kind of image just popped into your head with that statement. Get your mind out of the gutter, you.”

“It’s great to finally meet you, Jeff. We’re glad you could come out,” Sacha Cohen, Ph.D., said while she shook hands with him.

“My pleasure, Dr. Cohen. The CEO of the company and the person who developed its technology didn’t have to pick me up, though; I could have taken a cab.”

“‘Sacha,’ please. I can hardly ask our company’s largest, single, private investor to stand on titles or take a cab, especially when you’ve given so generously!”

“Good timing, Sacha; it was just good timing. You contacted Mom just after I’d come into some free cash and I loved the concept, so a win-win all around.”

“How is your mother? Is she still at Thompkins?” Sacha waved Jeff to the town car they would take for the ride to the headquarters of Neptune’s Forge, located just west of Luke Air Force Base in Glendale, Arizona.

“She’s still there and doing very well, thank you. Next year is going to be her last, though; I think she wanted to get to thirty years in teaching before she retired. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where she wouldn’t be a teacher.”

“Is she planning on anything for her retirement?”

“Being a more-involved grandmother to her five grandkids while Dad keeps working; he figures he’s still got another five years or so in him.”

“How many of the five are yours?”

“Three. Keiko and I have twin boys who are going on four and a half; our little girl just turned three last week, which is why I asked to come here this week. My younger sister has two: a son who is fifteen and will be a sophomore in high school this year, and a six-year-old.”

“Big spread.”

“Matt’s technically her stepson, but he’s been calling Kara ‘Mom’ since she married his father in ‘94.” Sacha smiled.

“Your dad’s a mechanic, right? Owns a place on Belchertown Road?”

“Right. He’s been a mechanic since ‘68 and bought the garage in ‘75. The place didn’t have a good reputation when he bought it, but he renamed it ‘Valley Auto’ and turned that reputation around quickly through hard work; Mom and Dad made sure we understood the value of hard work growing up. Dad still enjoys ‘tinkering’ with the cars, though he’s grumbling at the amount of electronics in them now.” Jeff gave a low whistle when he caught sight of their destination. “That’s a serious-looking fence, Sacha.”

“We’ve got some serious kooks we’ve got to worry about,” she replied. “Between the folks who think we’re going to literally set the world on fire, the people who think we’re going to open a portal to hell, the people who think we’re going to use up all of Earth’s water, the people who don’t like the pork derivatives in the pre-stage filters...”

“‘May you live in interesting times.’”

“We could do with a little disinterest now and then.”

“I can withdraw my family’s support if that would help?” Sacha looked at him in horror. “Kidding, Sacha! Kidding! Sorry, I won’t make any more jokes. I promise.”

“I’m only a few years older than you! I don’t need a heart attack at forty!” Jeff chuckled at her reaction.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re not going anywhere. And your ‘experimental’ model has been running continuously since we installed it in ‘98.”

“We’d really like that unit back, Jeff,” Sacha said. “Our engineers want to tear your furnace down and see what kind of wear there is if any; the fact you haven’t experienced any major issues with it far exceeds their best-case scenarios!”

“Well, I almost hate to give it back, but that would allow me to store all my lawn equipment in the shed you guys built for it once it’s gone.” Sacha laughed. “I like that you can reassemble major components of the 102 on-site to allow for basement access in existing homes, too.”

“Come on in and meet the engineers, Jeff,” she said while exiting the car. “They’ll get you started on your 102HF operator’s training.”

Three days later, Jeff felt he could take the new furnace apart and put it back together blindfolded. He impressed everyone at the company with how approachable he was; many there had been nervous about meeting someone who personally owned one-tenth of their jobs, but he put them at ease right away. Jeff admitted he didn’t understand how the concept of the original ‘20s technology developed into fusion technology, but as long as it worked, he didn’t care.

Jeff spent a full day with the engineers and design team answering their questions about the XV5 unit currently at the house. At his insistence he also spent a full day on the assembly line, speaking with the people who put the units together; that gave him a sense of the pride they had in building something which could allow the US its energy independence again.

He cemented his reputation there when a new employee’s coverall got caught in the machine she was training on; it started pulling her into the machine’s rollers by her sleeve. The result would have been a slow, gruesome and horrifying death. While Jeff was talking to the senior operator of the machine, Jeff noticed the woman struggling to free herself as she was drawn closer to her demise; the noise on the line hid her cries for help. Knowing he was standing next to the emergency kill switch, he punched it without hesitation.

Horns hooted, bells rang, and rotating red lights flashed while the entire assembly line ground to a halt. The man Jeff was speaking with spun around to see what had happened and his eyes widened; the man pulled a folding knife out of his pocket and cut his trainee’s sleeve to free her. The woman collapsed to the floor, shaking, while the adrenaline in her system dissipated. Jeff knelt next to her and examined her arm, making sure there were no injuries. The managers came running, fearing that the VIP managed to get himself killed; instead, they found him talking to one of their workers, trying to calm her down.

After everyone stopped trying to talk at the same time, the woman told the plant safety officials what happened. She said she noticed the Velcro of her coverall’s cuff was loose just as the adjustment tab became caught in the machinery. The safety manager said on the spot the plant’s next sheet metal run was to be used to fashion guards for all machines to protect against a similar occurrence.

Sacha and her management staff were effusive in their praise and gratitude, as was the shop foreman; Jeff downplayed his role, saying he was in the right place at the right time.

“Jeff, anything you want, anything at all, it’s yours,” Sacha said at the end of the day.

“Sacha, really, I don’t need anything from this,” he insisted. “I’m just glad Karen’s okay.”

“Jeff, this isn’t just coming from me. Everyone here is insisting we honor you in some way!”

“Just promise me those guards Earl’s insisting on are the next thing this plant produces and we’ll be square.”

“That’s already on the agenda,” she assured him. “There has to be something we can do to thank you.”

“Well, my in-laws will need a new furnace...”

Mayumi and Hiro’s new house on Hilltop Road slowly became their new home during the month of August. All of the niggling little details which helped them buy the house for a reduced price were corrected one-by-one; the ‘fit-and-finish’ of the place, as Jeff described it, received a needed facelift while the work was completed. Hiro and Jeff had a spirited disagreement on the subject of the 102HF when it arrived. Jeff out-stubborned his father-in-law and eventually convinced him to accept the unit as a housewarming gift, albeit an extravagant one. The fact that Neptune gave it to Jeff as a gift was not mentioned to Hiro.

Mayumi rolled her eyes to her daughter, both laughing at their men behind their backs. Mother and daughter brought the kids along while they hunted for items at antique shops and yard sales which would give the house a New England country feel. Sabrina was disappointed when her decorating suggestions were not followed; a beach-themed house in the middle of a forest struck her mother and grandmother as a bit incongruous.

Towards the end of August, Hiro asked to borrow Jeff for a task back in Spokane. Keiko raised an eyebrow but agreed to what her father said would be a ‘brief’ return to her hometown two weeks before Labor Day. She didn’t see the garment bag Jeff packed for the trip.

“Hi, Keiko-chan,” she heard over the phone three days later.

“My beloved, how are you?”

“Doing just fine, and looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“You and Father are returning tomorrow? That is wonderful!”

“We’ll land in Fitchburg about three tomorrow afternoon; do you think you’d be able to call the love birds and have them watch the kids while you and Mayumi pick us up?”

“Emily and Ben? I do not see why not but, why?”

“It’s a surprise.” Keiko’s eyes narrowed; she was not usually fond of surprises, but she would give her Jeffrey the benefit of the doubt.

“Very well.”

The next day Keiko and her mother waited in the small terminal at Fitchburg Municipal Airport for their husbands’ plane to arrive. A small corporate jet touched down on the runway and taxied to a spot nearby not long after three. Keiko was puzzled when she did not see the door of the plane open right away.

“Mrs. Takahashi? Mrs. Knox?” a man asked in a familiar voice from behind them.