Once he had put the girls to sleep, Mark went into the living room and logged into his computer. Going on Google, he typed in the name Claudine Peyroux. Many results and images were produced from the search, but there was one link that caught Mark's eye.
In bold print, the article read; JAZZ BLUES SINGER, CLAUDINE PEYROUX, SET TO MAKE APPEARANCE AT NEWARK'S NJPAC. Curious, Mark clicked on the link and read the article.
"New Jersey's most devoted jazz fans are in for a treat this Thursday. Legendary jazz singer and civil rights activist, Claudine Peyroux, will be performing at the New Jersey Performing Arts Center in the state's largest city of Newark. Known for her rich as molasses vocals as well as her fiery temper on and offstage, the Bayou Nightingale expressed her delight at being in Newark again.
"I have history here," said the 72 year-old Peyroux, "I've performed in some of the even greater cities like Chicago, Memphis, New Orleans,and Harlem, but Newark has always been special to me, because the performing arts is so ingrained in this city. I'd performed at the Paramount Theatre for 10 years and at Newark Symphony Hall often. One of my biggest influences, Sarah Vaughan, was born in Newark. I have nothing but good memories when I think of Newark."
Other acts include Newark's own Savion Glover, jazz pianist Keith Jarrett, guitarist Bob deVos,and Peyroux's husband, poet, jazz musician, and activist, Esteban de los Santos. They will be performing for a benefit concert with the proceedings going to NJ Hunger Project in an effort to end get more funding for food banks.
"It's unfortunate that millions of children starve in a developed country like America," says Peyroux, "Things like that should even be an issue, so it's a good thing that we're having this concert, hopefully it will bring awareness and we'll get more people to care."
Mark clicked on another url for more details. The concert was in two weeks and would begin at 5 p.m. He purchased a ticket before logging off of the computer.
"So this is it." he muttered to himself. "My journey for my former love begins."
In a few hours, Mark would be in Newark, waiting to see his idol, Claudine Peyroux. He listened to some music, while he waited for the plane he was on to take flight. Even though he had met Claudine many years ago and the experience was pleasant, he felt his stomach drop everytime he thought about meeting her again. How was he going he going to go about asking about Ronnie? Would she be willing to tell what became of her daughter and grandchild? Was Ronnie even still alive for that manner? He had to know.
The most uncomfortable thing about beginning the search for Ronnie, was that he had to sit his four children down and let them know about his unknown child. While his three girls were too young to know the situation, Gunner was understandably upset, having thought he was his father's first born all this time, though he accepted the situation and wished Mark well on his search.
Finally, the plane took flight. Mark began to feel drowsy, having always found long flights boring. He closed his eyes, with the sound of Charles Mingus seeping into his earbuds.
He awoke nearly 4 hours later, having landed in Newark. He stretched and yawned before getting up and heading for the terminal.
Naturally, fans spotted him, and took selfies with him as well as asking him for autographs. He obliged, though it took forever for him to leave the terminal.
When he finally made it out the terminal, he hailed down a taxi cab and ordered the driver to head to the NJPAC venue.
Mark had been to Newark on a few occasions. While it wasn't a breath taking city like New York or Los Angeles, the city still had character. It had a rich history of the arts like Claudine said in the article, and was once a thriving industrial city that never really recovered from the racial tensions and urban decline in the 60s.
Before Mark knew it, the taxi driver had pulled up to NJPAC. Mark paid and tipped the driver and got out.
There were hundreds of people were lined up near the doors of NJPAC, eagerly awaiting to get in. Mark tried to be discreet, but he would have had better success stopping a hurricane with his bare hands. Just like at the terminal, fans recognized him and flocked to him, hounding him. Mark heard of chorus of, 'You're my idol', 'I'm your biggest fan', and can I get your autograph?'
Mark didn't want to turn them down , but he didn't like the idea of the focus being on him. He was there like everybody else, wanting to see the concert. But Mark wasn't everybody else, he was the Undertaker, an internationally famous wrestler. He couldn't do the mundane things normal take for granted, like taking a walk in a park or going to the grocery store, those days of peace were long gone. Everywhere he went always ended in an autograph and/or photo session. It was a bit wearing, but it was what he signed up for.
By 6:30 the doors finally opened. Since Mark was larger than everyone, it was easy for him to navigate his way around the crowd. The security guards wanted to take photos with him. Anything to get him to his seat, Mark took the picture with him and went on his way.
He finally made his way inside the Prudential Hall, a near 3000 seat hall that were organized in a four horseshoe-shaped tiers with box and orchestra seatings. Mark had a seat in the mezzanine section. Others were settling in to their seats, excited murmurings and chitter chatter in general amongst them. Mark just sat silently, hoping nobody would bother him.
The show finally started around 7:00. A tall black woman with shortly cut hair made her way to the stage. Immediately, the crowd fell silent as the woman approached the microphone.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," said the woman, "I'm Gayle and I'll be the host for this evening's benefit concert. What a treat we have in store for you tonight, we've got some pretty big names performing tonight. We have Keith Jarrett performing, we have Bob deVos later on, Esteban de los Santos and his band, the legendary Claudine Peyroux, and last, but not least, Newark's own, Savion Glover!"
Mark noticed that the only name to get a bigger applause than Claudine Peyroux, was Savion Glover, though he was the hometown celebrity.
"All tonight's proceeds will be donated to the New Jersey Hunger Project," said Gayle, "thank you and enjoy the show everyone."
First to play was Bob deVos. As he played Mark could tell that he'd been influenced by Wes Montgomery and that funky hard bop style of jazz. He was just magic on his Gibson, and his organ player was just phenomenal.
After deVos was Keith Jarrett, a pianist who Mark knew worked with legendary jazz drummer Art Blakely in his early career as well as Miles Davis. Mark had seen Jarrett play in the 80s and had been impressed by his absolute pitch. However, Jarrett was anal about any type of noise from the audience, and would stop playing if there was even a peep from the audience. Luckily, no one was making any noise this time around.
Then came Esteban de Los Santos and his band. Esteban started off with some spoken word poetry in English and Spanish while beating on the congas. Then he broke into his cover of Dizzy Gillespie's Manteca. Mark loved the rich Afro-Cuban flavor, and found himself unconsciously moving to the rhythm.
Finally, it was the moment Mark had been waiting for; Esteban introduced Claudine, who walked on stage to a round of applause. Almost immediately, she went into her song, Cane River Blues.
She's still got it thought Mark amazed as she hit every high note without missing a beat. The Bayou Nightingale was living it up to her name. The box of old memories opened in Mark's mind, a strong wave of nostalgia washing over him like an ocean tide.
They closed the show off with Savion Glover. Mark was blown away by Glover's tap dancing prowess and found himself mesmerized. It was like watching a young Gregory Hines, who Mark was sure influenced his style.
After the show ended Mark walked to the Hilton Hotel near Penn Station where he checked into a room, but didn't go in right away. While on a trip to the toilet, he'd heard someone accidentally slip that Claudine and Esteban were staying there for the night, so he thought he'd at least try to catch Claudine there.
He sat in the lobby, waiting for Claudine to emerge. He even signed the occasional autograph and chatted briefly with a few fans. This kept on for an hour and some change.
Mark's stomach rumbling told him that he was hungry. He'd forgotten he hadn't ate since the afternoon. Last he remembered, they had a BBQ joint a few blocks away from the hotel. Mark flagged down a cab and headed there.
The place had a nice Southern bluesy feel to it, with its wooden floors and brick walls adorn with art portraits. There were only a few people in the place, which suited Mark just fine. He sat down and peered down at the menu, ordering a half rack of ribs and beer.
As he sat and waited for his food, listening to the music play, a heavy feeling weighed in on his stomach. He had to speak to Claudine, but what if the information he heard in the bathroom was farcical? What if she was on her way to New York already?
Mark was so into his thoughts, he almost ignored the woman entering the place. As he looked up at her, he saw with a violent jolt that it was Claudine Peyroux.
Although she was in her early 70s, Claudine had that timeless Louisiana Creole beauty. She carried herself with Southern belle grace in her tall and slim frame and golden brown skin tone. Her eyes, so much like her daughter's still had that dark, misty gaze.
She sat two tables away from Mark. Mark's heart was beating so hard and fast, it felt like it was going to break his ribcage. He wanted to approach her, but as a public figure, he knew all too well how annoying it was for a fan to disturb you while you're eating your meal. But then again, her food hadn't come yet.
Fuck it thought Mark as he got up, might as well get it over with.
He walked over to Claudine's booth and cleared his throat. Claudine looked up from her menu and asked in that pleasant Louisiana drawl, "Can I help you, mister?"
"I apologize for disturbing you, Ms. Peyroux," said Mark, putting on his Southern gentleman act hard, "I just wanted to say you put on an amazing performance tonight and I enjoyed every moment of it. You've still got it."
"Well thank you," said Claudine, smiling showing off her pearly whites, "you don't have to call me Ms. Peyroux, Claudine is just fine."
"Well, Claudine, I've been one of your biggest fans as far as I can remember," said Mark. "I even met you in '84 in Memphis years ago on Beale Street."
"Really?" said Claudine, "I thought you seemed familiar. Like I've seen your eyes before. What's your name?"
"Mark Calaway," said Mark, extending his hand, "I don't mean to be so blunt, Claudine, but I was wondering if you still keep in contact with your daughter Ronnie."
Claudine looked at Mark as if seeing him clearly for the first time.
"You know my baby?" she asked in surprise. "You must know her personally. She hasn't been called 'Ronnie' in years."
"Really?" said Mark, surprised by this information. "What does she go by now?"
"She calls herself Devi Leondra now," said Claudine, "Her stage name you see, she's a musician and a documentary film maker now."
"What's the name of her band?" asked Mark.
"Thoughtless Musings," said Claudine. "She plays the guitar and sings. I always knew she'd get into music, it's in her blood. She was always a gifted child."
"She has a kid, doesn't she?" asked Mark, nearly holding his breath.
"Yeah, she does," said Claudine. "He's in college now. Boy, time sure does fly. I didn't find out about him until after he was born. You see, Veronica left the United States in the early 90s. I remember it clear as day. It was after New Years in '92. Me and Esteban came home to find a note in the kitchen saying that she was pregnant and had gone abroad, because she was afraid Esteban and I would disown her or make her get rid of the baby. We wouldn't have done neither. I mean, yes we would have been upset, but eventually, we would have accepted the situation for what it was.
"I would have never made her get an abortion," said Claudine, sadly, " my parents forced me to get one when I was 16. I would have told her so, but I didn't even know where she was. She sent me a letter though about 4 months after she'd run away, telling me she had a boy, though she wouldn't tell me where she was, because she was afraid I'd bring her back home. She sent me letters every month to let me know she was still alive, so that put me at ease."
"Did she ever say anything about the father?" asked Mark.
"No, she won't tell me," said Claudine, "anyway, why you asking so much questions about Veronica? Why you so interested?"
"Because," said Mark, looking Claudine straight in the eye, his voice strained with emotion. "I'm the one who fathered her child."
There was a long and uncomfortable silence between the two. Claudine scanned Mark's face for a sign of deception, but there was none.
"So you're the one who knocked up my daughter when she was only 17 years old." said Claudine in a low voice. "Where she meet you?"
"I'm a professional wrestler known as the Undertaker," said Mark, "I co-counseled Camp Vacamas during the summer of '91 when I met Ronnie. I...uh started a romance with her during that time. She never told anyone about it, because of my status. She felt she was helping me, but I would have given up everything to take care of her and the baby."
"You really loved her, didn't you?" asked Claudine.
Mark nodded, tears falling down his cheeks.
"I tell you, I was really angry at the man who got my daughter pregnant for a long time," said Claudine. "I thought he was some jerk who just got her pregnant and left her, and ruined her life. But now, I see you standing here, cryin', I see that her leaving affected you as much as it affected me and her father. I'm sorry you never got a chance to know your son."
"I'm sorry too," said Mark, "that's why I came here, Claudine, I want to get into my son's life again. I want to reconnect with Ronnie. Please help me."
"Well, Veronica resides here in Newark," said Claudine, "In Forest Hills. I'm going to visit her tomorrow, I'll bring you to her. Only, I won't tell her that you're coming."
The tight knot in Mark's chest unraveled. And he could breathe again.
"God, I can't thank you enough Claudine," said Mark. "I'll never forget this."
"Not a problem, dear," said Claudine, smiling once more, "now if you don't mind, I'd like to eat my food."
"Oh of course," said Mark, "Better eat mine too, before it gets cold."