All The Young Punks Pt. 07

October 1978

---- MORTICIA VS BATMAN ----

For their second show at The Living Room, Joe agreed to play a weeknight... because Randy offered him Halloween. He said the college kids come in costume and it's a wild scene. Joe was happy to get the gig, but he had a scheduling dilemma. Joe took his sisters trick-or-treating every year. He accepted Randy's offer and began scheming how he could pull off double duty, trick-or-treating and playing the show.

The band was set up for the nine o'clock start. The Room was packed, a little over two hundred revelers, most in costume. Behind the bar, Randy looked at his wristwatch and motioned to Sal on stage. Sal shrugged, it was 8:52, and Joe was nowhere to be seen.

At nine, Sal stepped up to the mic. "Did one of you ladies kidnap our cute lead singer? Joey is missing in action."

Some in the crowd moaned.

"We know where he is," Nate said. "Joey has little sisters, and every year he takes them out for trick-or-treating."

There was a collective, "Awwwww."

Sal smiled back at Nate. "I know, he's such a good boy. We promise he'll be here soon. Joey is very dependable."

"That's why he couldn't disappoint his sisters," Nate added.

At 9:09, Joe walked in the back door from the alley. A small cheer came from the people in that corner of the club. He made his way through the crowd to the stage. He slipped a mask on and climbed onstage. He didn't say a word, just strapped on his Tele, turned his amp on, and waited for the hum making eye contact with each of his mates. Then he stepped up to the mic and went to work wearing a very cheesy Batman costume.

It was another night and another gig. By now, Joe knew his set and schtick like a pro. He wore a cheap department store caped crusader costume, boys size XL. It hugged his torso like a wet suit. The cape was too small. The molded plastic mask barely fit. One elastic held it on. It was a ridiculous get-up, and that was the point.

He did his sideshow stunts and a little crowd work, which was easy, making fun of bad costumes, like his own, and complimenting hot girls with the best costumes. Several songs in, he noticed a familiar face stage left, ten people deep. Claire was made up like a cat, with whiskers and ears. His heart sank for a moment. He loathed that feeling, and pushed his emotions aside.

Midway into the set, Joe quieted the crowd. "Ghouls and witches, spooks and monsters, you're about to witness Young Punks history. We have a new song. I hereby declare this composition our first official Halloween song." The bass and drums gave the song away instantly.

"They're creepy and they're kooky, mysterious and spooky

They're all together ooky, the Addams Family."

Joe watched faces light up, and sing along, even if they didn't quite know the words. He caught a glimpse of Claire, smiling and singing. When the singing ended, and the crowd cheered, Joe noticed Morticia Addams to his left, He smiled at her. Two songs later, Joe selected Mortica to dance against a sexy nurse. They danced to Batman, Joe running around like a crime fighter, kicking, punching, karate chopping, and shouting, "BAM, POW, WHACK."

Morticia won easily.

The Morticia vs Batman tee-shirt battle was dancing rather than wrestling. Gina, a girl with naturally perfectly straight jet-black Morticia hair, was dressed in a long beautiful black gown that clung to her tall slender body. She was smokin' hot.

Joe stood back and admired her spooky elegance. "I cannot mess up this black-haired beauty with big dark eyes."

A few in the crowd answered back, "With points of her own sittin' way up high."

More voices replied, "Way up firm and high."

Joe danced with Morticia, hand in hand, close, while the band played a beat and chords that resembled Night Moves, and the crowd sang along. He then presented Gina his tee shirt and cape. Joe kept his mask.

During set break, Joe went to the back alley where the smokers and tokers hung out. While talking to Issac, the RISD dude he met at their first downtown show, he felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned to see Claire standing there, smiling. She was so beautiful it made Joe more annoyed to see her. Her cat costume was minimalist. He liked it.

"Hi, Joe. It's nice that you took your sister's out for candy."

Joe felt his sinking heart again, and he hated himself for it. He was so over this girl and wanted nothing to do with her. He stared emotionless. Her smile disappeared.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I just wanted to say hello. Can we talk?"

He stared coldly, wanting to be nice to Claire, but struggling. She must be punished for what she did to him. "I'm still seventeen and in high school. What's there to talk about?" Then he turned to Issac. "I'll catch you later." and walked away without looking at Claire. Issac leaned closer to her and whispered. "He's in high school?" He looked up at Claire. "...and he's only seventeen?"

Claire sighed, "Yeah, but don't tell anyone. He'll be eighteen in a couple of months."

In the middle of the second set, while doing a chord-raking version of Peggy Sue, Nate split a drumstick, his third of the night, he continued with one hand. When Joe heard the drums turn to shit he looked back. Nate shrugged. Joe stopped playing.

"Are you fucking serious?" He threw his hands up.

Nate shrugged again. "Sorry dude."

Sal and Johnny stopped playing. The crowd groaned. The murmurs of costumed punks were the only sound in the room.

"What the fuck Nate? This is a big night and you fucked it up!"

"Fuck you, Joe."

Joe turned to the crowd. "You see this. Our idiot drummer ran out of drumsticks because he plays like a deranged gorilla and he's too fucking cheap to buy enough sticks."

Some of the crowd laughed, but Joe's tone was angry, many did not sense any humor.

Sal stepped in. "Joe, take it easy. What do we have left, half a set? We're fine."

Nate stood up and pointed his lonely drumstick at Joe: "Hey, watch what you say next motherfucker, or I'll kick your ass."

Joe looked out over the room. "I don't suppose anyone in this club would have a drumstick our moron drummer could borrow, or a wooden spoon, anything?"

Joe scanned faces, people looked around, shaking heads... no. The discomfort was palpable.

He turned back to Nate. "You're such a fucking idiot."

Nate started coming out from behind his kit. "Do you wanna take this out back, you little shit?"

Eyes were wide, mouths agape, as the crowd watched the band unravel. As Nate passed Sal, on his way to Joe, Sal put his arm out, stopping Nate. "Hang on a second!"

Sal began unzipping his fly: "Let me see what I'm packing. This might be long enough."

"It might be skinny enough too." Joe pointed at his crotch.

The crowd laughed and then went bug-eyed as Sal reached into his jeans and began to pull it out. There was anticipation in the air, then laughter when Sal whipped out a drumstick. He waved it at the crowd, took a deep bow, and presented it to Nate.

"You dumb fuckers!" Joe pointed at the people. "I thought you were the best and brightest." He made a whiny voice. "Gullible Ivy League twats!"

Nate flew into the pounding drum intro for Hawaii Five-0. As they jammed the instrumental, Joe met Claire's green eyes from fifteen feet away. He felt shitty for being a dick to her, but he wasn't interested in being her pal. Feelings would get in the way.

Claire was with him after his very first gig when he thought of the 'broken stick' gag. It took six months to make it happen. He wrote a script, they practiced, and then they performed Joe's skit perfectly on Halloween Night.

After the gig, Randy handed Joe a business card.

The Brickyard - Boston, MA - Rick Davis - Proprietor.

Randy explained that he and his fellow club owner friend shared information on new acts. Randy went on to say he had an offer from Rick, to have The Young Punks play a weeknight with two other bands.

"We don't do that shit," Joe explained. "I'm not splitting the door. It's not worth the trip to Boston."

Randy shook his head, "You're a piece of work. His place is a warehouse off Atlantic Ave. It's huge. He gets over 800 on a weekend. Look at the back of the card."

On the back of Rick Davis' business card, he had scribbled a date and a flat rate of $500 for a seventy-five-minute set.

"Shit, that's not even half a night's work," Joe said with a nod.

"He puts three new bands up every Thursday, but not everyone gets a second date. Think of it as a battle of the bands. If you win, he'll give you weekend work and a higher rate."

Joe informed his mates on the way back to the garage of the offer. They were all in favor. Playing Boston was a big deal, the next level.

---- JAMIE LEE CURTIS IS SO HOT ----

Four days after the Halloween gig, Joe walked into the garage late on a Saturday morning to find Sal thumping on his bass. He stopped playing as the kid approached.

"Hey, check out this bass line I wrote. I think it would work with that stalker song you wrote." Sal launched into a slow and ominous bass beat. Joe nodded as Sal played several bars, a change, and back to the top. When he stopped, he waited for Joe's verdict.

"That would definitely go with what I'm thinking," Joe said.

"Let's work on it."

"I can't. I'm taking my sister to see this Halloween movie. It's supposed to be great."

"Really?" Sal winced, hopefully, like a big child. "Can I come?"

Joe thought for a moment, "Sure... if you drive. It'll save me a bus ride. I'm just here to pick up some things. Are you ready?"

"Give a minute to piss."

Ten minutes later, Jeannie was gazing out the front window of the Theroux house, wiping tears, upset that she couldn't go to the matinee with Joe. Recently turned eleven-year-old Julie sat in the front seat of the van while Joe sat in the back. As they drove crosstown, she kept glancing over at big, scary Sal with his slicked-back hair, sideburns, unshaved stubble. Sal returned her glance.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Julie shrugged. "I don't know."

"I do," Joe said while pulling a milk crate from the back of the van and placing it between the seats, just behind the engine compartment. He sat on the plastic crate. "My Mom is always going on about you being no good, a bad influence, and my sisters believe every word that comes from Mom's mouth. So, Jules is sizing you up."

"Your mother talks trash about me?" Sal looked at Julie. "What did I ever do to her?"

Julie shrugged. "I don't know."

"Don't worry about it, Sal." Joe placed his hand on the big man's shoulder. "No one cares what Mom thinks. She's a drama queen."

As they pulled up to the Hope Cinema on the East Side, Joe saw the line of moviegoers on the sidewalk. The line wrapped around the corner into the parking lot.

"Holy fuck!" he said. "Look at this. Are we gonna get in?"

"Don't use the F-word," Julie scolded her big brother.

"Oh, are you gonna tell your Mom?"

Jules didn't reply

Sal stared at his junior passenger, "Are you a tattle tale?"

"No!"

"Yes," Joe nodded, looking his sister in the eye. "she is."

Sal glared at her. "Don't be a rat. Nobody likes rats... especially on Federal Hill."

Joe almost laughed at the fear in Julie's eyes as they exited the van. He glanced at his middle sister and took her hand for the walk inside. "I told ya, Jules. Don't be a rat... not on The Hill."

Sal had to show his ID to prove Julie was accompanied by an adult. That was another reason, besides the ride, that Joe was okay with Sal tagging along. His fake ID was not great. It didn't fool everyone. After getting three tickets, two popcorn, Milk Duds, and three sodas, Joe elbowed his sister.

"Go use the little girls' room."

"I don't have to go."

"Just go. You always have to pee in the middle of a movie and then you expect me to tell you what you missed." He pointed. "Go now."

She rolled her eyes, "Okay."

As she walked off, Joe looked at Sal. "She's definitely the rat in the house, Jeanie is too, but Jules is Mom's master spy and informant. And she's a major whiner."

"Is she gonna be okay in here? I heard this movie is scary as fuck."

"The funny thing about Jules is, she's a big baby and a whiner, but she loves horror. When she was like five, she'd watch the Creature Double Feature with me every Saturday. That was our thing for years. Jackie saw Halloween last week with her friend Wendy's parents. After she told Jules how scary it was, she started begging me to take her."

After the movie, walking through the lobby, Sal held his jacket sleeve out. "Look at this. She left marks in my leather with her nails."

"I took my jacket off," Joe pulled back his sleeve, "and she drew blood."

"I'm sorry!" Julie said, "It was really scary!"

Sal laughed, "So that's what that yelp was about. I thought Joey was afraid of Michael Myers."

"He was scary," Joe admitted.

"And Jamie Lee Curtis is so hot," Sal smiled. "I would have been trying to stab her with something... less dangerous."

Julie looked up, "Like what?"

"Never mind," Joe said.

Joe asked Sal to drop them off on Atwells Ave so he could stop at the market. They would walk home from there. Carrying a bag of groceries Mom had requested, Joe leaned against his sister.

"Am I a good brother?"

"The best," she said, looking up with a smile.

"Then why do you spy and rat on me?"

"I don't."

"Please, Jules, don't lie too. That's insulting."

"Sorry."

"When was the last time you did something fun with Mom?"

"I don't know."

"Who takes you out for pizza and to the record shop?"

"You do."

"And who takes you for Italian Ice?"

"You do."

"Who takes you to the movies?"

"You do."

"Just think about that before you rat me out. If I'm so good to you, and you love me, why would you want to make Mom bitch at me?"

Jules walked quietly without an answer.

"Can you do me a favor? If I'm a good brother, don't rat me out."

"I'll try."

---- THE WISE GUYS ----

Joe walked into the garage on a weeknight to find Pops and his crew of fifty-something Italian men sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. A cloud of cigar smoke hovered over their game.

"Hey, has Sal been here?" Joe asked.

"He's taking a beauty nap," Johnny Bats said, gesturing toward the office cubes in the middle of the garage.

"It's gonna take a lot more than a nap," Joe quipped. A couple of old guys snickered.

On the long wall of the garage, smack in the middle, were two office cubes from the days when a fleet of trucks was run from there. Tony had a desk in one cube and Sal threw a mattress in the other. Joe walked over, peeked in the window, and slammed his palm against it.

Sal awoke abruptly. "What the fuck?"

"Wake up. We have a problem."

Joe walked back to the kitchen and watched the men playing cards. He knew John Bucci Senior and one other guy, Pete the Cheat, a well-known bookmaker and sketchy character. Another man was familiar. His nose suggested he had a losing boxing career when he was young.

"Joe," Pops pointed at his guys. "This is Pete, that's Gerry, my brother-in-law Dominic, and that handsome man is Vito."

Joe realized he knew Dominic, the father of Sal's two asshole cousins he had a serious fight with more than a year ago. The men all nodded. Joe hoped Dominic Piazza didn't know who he was.

"So you're the wannabe rock star we've been hearing about," Vito said. The wise guys chuckled.

Joe didn't reply.

"I hope this band works out, kid." Johnny Bats said. "If not, I have to find my kid a job, and he ain't good for much."

"He can definitely play guitar," Joe said. "Johnny's good for that."

"That's his only skill." Bats laughed, "Well, that and being a fuck up."

"What do you guys play?" Pete asked as he shuffled cards.

"Weird shit," Pops answered. "And they play it stupid loud."

"We play The Stones and The Kinks, some punk and surf rock. We play all kinds of stuff."

"Weird stuff," Pops said lowly.

"What do you mean weird?" Dominic asked, flicking cigar ash into a metal pie tray.

"They play The Flintstones, Batman, and Hawaii Five-O."

Sal emerged from the cube. "What's the problem?"

"The cops are at The Underground again, right now. My dad saw five cruisers, including the K-9 unit, and unmarked cars."

"How is that our problem?"

"We have a gig there this weekend."

Vito picked up the cards dealt to him. "Vic's going down," he said. "His drugstore is history and he's going up the river."

"What?" Joe asked. "How do you know?"

"I have cop friends."

"Yeah," Pops said, "dirty cops." He threw chips on the table. "Two bucks."

"His uncle did him in," Vito said. "He told the kid too many times to stop dealing drugs, and Vic ignored him. Last week some junkie overdosed in the bathroom and Uncle Guido decided enough was enough."

Joe raised his arms. "He ratted out his own nephew?"

"Guido has cop friends too. When he heard the junkie died at the hospital, he called a friend downtown hoping he could help him clear the joint out without busting his nephew. The problem was, that narco detectives were already working the case, getting ready to move in. I guess tonight's the night."

"It was just a matter of time," Gerry said. "Everyone knows the kid deals, including the narcs."

"Here's the kicker," Vito added. "They've been surveilling the bar, waiting for him to take a shipment. They want a big bust. The chief will be on channel ten tonight, especially if they bagged his supplier and a large quantity of whatever he's moving."

"Lots of coke," Sal said, "and pills, pot, whatever you need."

"He's a repeat offender," Gerry noted. "Vic's going away for a long stretch."

"Well," Joe sighed. "I guess we have Saturday night off."

"We don't need The Underground," Sal said. "We have The Met Cafe and the Living Room in the city, and an occasional Rathskeller gig."

"The Met Cafe is history too," Dominic said. He threw his cards in. "I fold."

"What are you talking about?" Joe asked.

"They're condemning that old shack. The city did an inspection last week and cited them with a truckload of violations. The place is falling down. They'll be in court next week."

"Holy shit," Joe looked at Sal. "Just like that," he snapped his fingers. "we're losing two clubs."

"They're both shitholes," Sal said, "We'll be fine."

"And the city is looking at a major project on Westminster Street," Dominic said. "a new Federal Building. I don't think Lupo's and the Living Room are long for this world."

Joe threw his arms up, "How do you guys know all this shit?"

Sal laughed. "Because they're worse than a bunch of old hens with the gossip. They know everyone's business."

Joe walked over to the lounge area and took a seat, Sal joined him. Joe leaned close and whispered. "Your Uncle Dominic looks just like Gino."

"It's the other way around. Dom came first, his loser son second."

"Don't tell him who I am."

"He already knows."

"What?"

"Frankie told him I played in a band with you."

"Fuck."

"It's okay, Pops and I had a talk with him. He's not gonna trouble you."

"What did you say?"

"Pops said that you were a good kid and I told him his boys started the fight." Sal glanced back at the wise guys and then back to Joe. "Dominic is a thug, but he honors the street code. Yeah, he's pissed off about Frankie's face and the hospital bills, but he knows they jumped you. He told me he would have done the same, busted their faces."

"Really?"

"That doesn't mean he's your pal, okay? Don't piss off Uncle Dom."

Joe opened Rolling Stone magazine, occasionally glancing over at the wise guys. After reading a review of the new record from The Police, Outlandos d'Amour, he got up to get a beer. Standing by the fridge, watching poker from afar, he met Dominic's eyes.