Jobyna's Blues by Jane Alden

Author:Jane Alden [Alden, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948327381
Publisher: Desert Palm Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

DAMN! JOBIE GRABBED HER bedside alarm clock and shook it, which made no sense. It wasn’t the clock’s fault that she had forgotten to turn on the alarm. She struggled to free her legs from the tangled sheets. Thankfully, she had packed her suitcase and laid out the day’s clothes at the foot of the bed the night before. She anticipated that in the best case, it would be a race to catch the train for a five-hour trip to Newport, Rhode Island, for her appearance at the Newport Folk Festival. Now she had made it more of a sprint.

She wiggled into her jeans, pulled on a linen blouse, and buckled her leather sandals. Time for coffee? Buy it on the way somewhere.

The bedside phone jangled. Damn again. Deedee. The phone calls started as soon as Jobie landed back in the States from London, at first once a week or so, then becoming an almost daily part of Jobie’s morning routine over the past several weeks. Deedee called at seven in the morning in New York and noon in London. She usually slept late after a performance or a recording session. The first few times Jobie complained about the early hour, but Deedee argued that between their two schedules and the time zone differences, this was the best option. Jobie eventually came to accept the early calls.

She grabbed the phone. “Hello, Deedee. I don’t have time to talk this morning. I’ve made myself late leaving for Newport.” Jobie tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and stretched the cord till she could barely reach the handle of her guitar case. She pulled it over to the bed and opened it, taking a quick inventory of the guitar, spare strings, picks, capos, and a notebook.

Deedee was undeterred. “Oh, no. Well, just quickly, exciting news. I just found out today. As soon as we’re done with the new album, I’m going to Cape Town, South Africa for two concerts. Kate’s coming with me to produce the whole thing. Marilyn and the girls will be along to sing backup. I know you can’t talk now, but just think about this. Go with us. Open for me.”

“Deedee, you know I can’t go into South Africa. They’re not going to let a mixed-race American protest singer in. Most of my songs are about resisting authority, stopping wars, and breaking chains. That wouldn’t go over well with the powers that be in South Africa, I’m sure. I’m surprised you’re willing to go.”

“Oh, I’ve got that covered. My contract says I’ll play only to integrated audiences.”

“How did you pull that off?”

“Kate worked with the record label attorneys and the British Consulate in Cape Town.”

“Still, you and Kate are white. I’d be a different matter, and so will Marilyn, if she’s going. And what makes you think black South Africans can even afford tickets to your concerts?”

Deedee paused. “Then I’ll give the tickets away. Just keep an open mind. Think about it. You have to go now, I know.

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