All The Young Punks Pt. 09

---- Joe finally turns eighteen and the PG rating on his story changes to an R rating. The minor sex scene here is an example of how it will be handled going forward. ----

---- JANUARY 1979 ----

After the cancellation of the New Years party at the garage, Sal and Pops decided to push the festivities back one week, to Joe's eighteenth birthday, January 7th. It would be a Sunday afternoon open band practice keg party with pizza. Joe was not in favor of a birthday party.

"It's a Sunday, and school starts up Monday."

"It's the perfect end to school break," Sal replied.

"I don't want to make a big deal of my birthday."

"Oh fuck off," Johnny said, "You've been counting down for months."

"That doesn't mean I want a birthday party. I promised my Mom I'd do Sunday dinner with my sisters. They're baking me a cake."

"What time is Sunday dinner?" Pops asked.

"Sunday is early, like three o'clock. I can't show up drunk from a kegger."

"We'll do it after you have dinner with your sisters," Sal grinned at Pops as they were on the same page.

"It's my birthday. I don't need a party."

"Stop your whining," Pops pointed at Joe. "It's settled."

In the mid-late afternoon, a half dozen teens and twenty-somethings stood in a semicircle around a keg watching Sal pump and pour, pump and pour until the beer flowed clear of foam. When an eager kid stuck his plastic cup under the tap, Sal barked at him.

"Back off! Do you really think you get the first beer after watching me do all the fucking work?"

The kid slinked away, "Sorry Sal."

After he poured a full cup, drank half, then topped it off. Sal announced, "Tap is up!" He took the eager kid's cup and filled it for him, and then a cute petite blonde, and then another chick with red hair. When he noticed the rest of the line was dudes, Sal walked away, "You dicks can pull your own."

Johnny arrived with a stack of pies from Angelos of Sicily, Sal's uncle's restaurant on The Hill. Johnny held the first batch of pies over his head, walking through the early arrivals to Joe's party, about two dozen. The townies outnumbered the college kids, but that would shift as the night wore on. Students were back in town after school break. Sal got the word out.

"Give me a chance to lay the pies out... damn animals." Johnny moved through the kids to the kitchen table. He placed six pizza boxes down and put a hand up to hold off the horde. Sal was right behind him with three more boxes. Their guests watched as he and Johnny made three stacks of three pies and opened the top boxes.

"Wait a second," Sal held back another eager beaver. He pointed. "Grab me those paper plates." The kid fetched them. Sal and Johnny took slices and got out of the way as bodies crowded the table, hands grabbing and pulling slices. Cheese slid off, and a slice was dropped upside down during the thirty-second feeding frenzy.

"Take it easy!" Sal said exasperated, "We got nine pies and more coming."

One of the cute girls Sal poured a beer for, the petite blonde, walked up alongside him and Johnny, balancing her beer on the paper plate holding her slice. "Where's Joe? Is he gonna miss his own party?"

"Nah," Sal replied with a mouthful, "His sisters baked him a cake. He'll be over after that."

"I know his sister Jackie. She's cool."

"She is," Sal said, "smart girl."

"I guess." The girl sipped her beer. "When will you guys start playing?"

Sal rolled his eyes, "Maybe when the rest of the band gets here?"

"Does Jackie ever hang out here with her brother?"

Johnny and Sal laughed in unison, "No. Joe would never let his little sister hang here."

"Why not?"

Sal bent forward, bringing his six-two down to the blonde's five-four. "Have you ever been to one of our parties?"

"No. This is my first." She smiled, "But I was here before, just hanging out with Joe after school."

"Jackie is what, fourteen?" Sal said, "We're drinking, there's weed over there, and someone might show up with coke. Joe won't let his sisters near this place."

"Does Joe do cocaine?"

"Nope," Johnny answered. "And he gets his panties in a twist if we do it?"

"Do you?"

Johnny and Sal both shrugged, "A little bit," Johnny said as he folded a crust and filled his face. "When it's around."

Every few minutes, the door that leads to the loading dock would open, allowing in a wave of winter wind, as new partiers arrived by twos and fours.

In the center of the garage, the two large sofas were fully occupied, as were the easy chairs and kitchen set. Some kids were seated on folding chairs. Winter coats were draped over the backs of furniture. Other punks sat on the concrete floor. A group of precious college girls brought a blanket to sit on.

Nate banged through the steel-clad industrial door, startling nearby partiers. He did this often because Nate thought it was hilarious to scare people, especially girls. A cold January gust followed him in. He had to push against the wind to close the door. He waved at Sal and Johnny and went straight to the keg, and then to the pies, and finally to his bandmates. He looked the cute high school girl up and down and took a bite of pizza.

"Where's Joe?" He asked with a mouthful.

"His sisters baked him a cake," Johnny replied with a mouthful.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. Isn't that cute?" Nate laughed. "Joey is so adorable."

Another girl walked up, a tall slender brunette Nate was eyeballing at the keg, "Where's Joe?

"His sisters baked him a cake," Sal said.

"Awww," she smiled. "That's so cute."

"That's what I said," Nate laughed.

"Are you guys gonna play tonight?"

"Yeah," Sal said with big eyes, "When Joe gets here!"

Forty minutes into the party, the early crowd of twenty had grown to more than fifty and kids were still showing up. A carload of Brown University students appeared... friends of the band from their downtown shows. There were several Providence College girls. PC was only a mile and a half north of the garage. As usual, most of the students were from Rhode Island College. It was now sixty-forty split, college kids over townies. Half the locals were Joe's high school friends.

"Is Joe coming? A PC girl asked.

Nate sized her up, "Who's asking?"

"Me, Kimberly."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Nate."

"Really? You don't remember me? Asshole!" She turned and walked away.

Sal and Johnny roared laughing. Sal shoved Nate. "You had your tongue down her throat and your hands in her pants a month ago."

"Fuck," Nate said under his breath. "That bridge is burned."

"Hey," a curvy brunette walked up. "Where's Joe? I thought this was his party?"

"His sisters baked him a cake!" Sal and Johnny's half shouted in stereo.

Nate put his hands up, "Listen, everyone! Yes. This is Joe's party, but our sweet prince is running late because his little sisters baked him a birthday cake and he promised his mommy he'd give them some quality time. He'll be along soon, right after he tucks the kiddies in and reads them a bedtime story."

Many of the kids laughed.

"You think I'm kidding? Noooo. That's what Joey does on nights we don't have a gig. So you can all stop asking..." Nate stopped mid-statement.

Joe was the opposite of Nate. He slipped in quietly. Nate didn't see him until it was too late. Joe was standing by the keg, pouring his first legal beer as Nate mocked his life at home. When he saw Joe and stopped talking, Nate's jaw fell open.

"Fuck you, Nate!" Joe shouted across the garage. "You're an asshole."

Many of the kids laughed.

"That was priceless," Sal smiled. "I was waiting for you to see him."

Nate leaned over and whispered, "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"What, and interrupt you making an ass of yourself?"

When Nate saw Joe coming he walked the other way, not wanting to face him. The petite blonde intercepted Joe, whispered in his ear, and kissed him on the cheek. Joe smiled and kept walking. He was stopped by the tall brunette, she wished him a happy birthday while hugging him. Kimberly got him too. It took a while for the birthday boy to reach half his band.

"What the fuck was that about?" He asked his mates.

"Like nine people asked, 'Where's Joe?" Sal said in a falsetto voice. "Is Joe coming to his party?"

Johnny laughed, "I see a birthday blowjob in your future, Joey. And you can take your pick of these lovely ladies."

Joe steeled his eyes and pointed his finger at Johnny, "Don't call me that."

Sal nudged Johnny, "Only his sisters call him Joey. No one else is allowed."

"So," Joe got down to business. "I booked us a gig in Storrs, Connecticut for Valentine's week, and I have a new bar in Wakefield we're playing next Thursday."

"Where the fuck is Storrs?" Johnny asked.

"That's where UConn is," Joe said, "It's kinda in the sticks, off route 44. The venue is a huge converted barn. I heard it's a great place."

"Here's to college girls rolling in the hay?" Sal raised his cup.

"So what's up in Wakefield?" Johnny asked. "I thought we were playing that Route One Tavern joint."

"Fuck that guy!" Joe almost shouted. "He stiffed us two hundred bucks because I was seventeen. I called him today and canceled our gig. The Muse is a bigger club and it's more of a URI crowd, not truckers and townies."

"What did he say?"

"He tried to apologize. I told him to go fuck himself."

Sal laughed, "Are you gonna do that to every bar that busted you for having a shitty ID?"

"No, only the two that stiffed us. We're done in Woonsocket too. I'll find other bars."

"Man, you really hold a grudge," Johnny said quietly.

"It's not a grudge, Johnny. It's not even personal. It's business. I won't do business with any asshole who fucks us. Those guys took advantage of my situation and now I can't trust them. If I can't trust you," Joe pointed a finger. "you can fuck right off."

"Take it easy, big guy," Sal put a hand on Joe's shoulder. "We're with you. We don't need to work for scumbags. Besides, those gigs weren't any good."

Joe had many reasons to be happy on his eighteenth birthday. It's a major milestone for every teenager. He had one specific reason that was unique to him. He no longer had to conceal his age and negotiate with club owners who didn't believe his ID was authentic... because it wasn't. He'd been using it for eight months. It was illegal for a minor to perform at establishments that serve alcohol.

Several club managers asked to see his ID. Some challenged his fake credentials. Joe had one card to play. "Shit, I guess you don't have a band tonight." He only had to use it a few times, but that move led to a couple of sleazy characters screwing the band by lowering their rate. Joe loathed that negotiation. It would never happen again.

Joe took a big sip of beer, emptied the cup, and walked back toward the keg. He was stopped by the petite blonde, Abby, his classmate. She followed him to the keg.

"Can you fill me?" Abby said, leaning against him as he took the tap.

Joe smiled, "I can definitely do that." He took her cup.

"It's nice to be eighteen, huh?"

"You have no idea." Joe handed Abby her beer. "I have to get ready. I'll find you when we take a break."

"Okay," she kissed his cheek.

Joe turned and shouted, "Hey Nate, asshole, we're up in ten minutes."

The kids cheered. The free beer and pizza were a draw, but The Young Punks playing a free set at their garage was the attraction. Nate made his way toward his bandmates. When he got there he leaned toward Joe.

"Take a peek over at the Cadillac. Looky who's here"

Joe looked over to see Claire with her college roommate and another chick... leaning against Pops' '68 Eldorado. This was the first time she had shown up at the garage since Joe's embarrassing night in her dorm room, seven months ago. Apparently, the cold shoulder he gave her on Halloween Night didn't dissuade her from showing up for his birthday. He was now eighteen, and in five months he'd shed the stigma of being a high school kid. He could not wait.

By the time Joe strapped on his Telecaster and stepped up to the mic, the party had swelled to over eighty guests. A decent crowd for a Sunday afternoon jam party. They had drawn well over a hundred in the past, enough to attract the attention of the Providence Police. Pops had to have a chat with the officers to assure them everything was legal and supervised... even when it wasn't entirely legal.

"Alright," Joe said, "Thanks for coming out in this freezing, garbage weather for the party... I didn't want to have!" He punched those last words.

His guests clapped and cheered.

"Pops will be by in a little bit with more pies. When he gets here can some of you jamokes help the old man carry them in? He's got a bum knee."

Joe strummed a few chords. Nate smacked his snare. Sal thumped bass notes. Johnny lit a cigarette. Joe looked back at his band and nodded.

"We learned a new song for this party. It's perfect for the occasion."

He slammed the opening chords to Alice Cooper's, 'I'm Eighteen'. Everyone knew the anthemic seventies teenage classic. Joe stepped up and belted the lyrics... kind of angrily.

When he got to the second chorus, he steeled his eyes on Claire.

"I'm eighteen! I get confused every day.

Eighteen! I just don't know what to say.

Eighteen! I gotta get away."

While he was glaring her way, he became annoyed that her friends were leaning against Tony's Caddie. When the last chord of I'm Eighteen faded, he pointed at them.

"Hey, get the fuck off Pop's car! The old man lets us use his place. The least you could do is have some damn respect!"

They stepped away from the car, embarrassed, especially Claire. Sal looked over at them. Joe saw Tony standing in the kitchen having just delivered more pizza, glancing toward his cars.

"Sorry Pops," Joe said through the mic. "We try to keep an eye on your shit, but some people..."

Tony waved. "We're good, kid."

The garage jam parties were relaxed, not work for the band. They'd play for forty minutes, take a break, do another forty, another break, back and forth for hours. Joe didn't do any of his stage stunts and there were no singalongs. The guys wanted to try out some new songs they had just worked on over Joe's holiday break, mingle, and enjoy the party as much as their guests.

Thirty minutes into the opening set, Joe had something to say. He let his guitar slide to his hip and stood at the mic. "This past year has been incredible, life-changing, but I'm so fucking glad to be eighteen and can't wait to get out of school. Thanks for supporting us, all of you." He then shouted, "Especially you Pops!" He turned to Sal. "I think your old man could claim us as dependents on his taxes."

Some guests clapped, and some laughed. Pops appreciated the tax joke.

When they took a break, Joe went to the keg and poured another beer. A gorgeous, tall girl walked up and held her cup out. "Hi. Joe. I'm Angie. I saw you guys at the Living Room on Halloween, and again last month."

He poured her beer. "Yeah, I remember your hair. It's hard to miss." Angie was black with a fabulous afro. Joe detected an accent. "Where are you from?"

"Atlanta. I'm a senior at RISD. I'm studying film."

"Really? We should talk sometime. I have this idea for our show. It involves film. I'm just not sure I can pull it off."

Angie had a fabulous smile too. "That sounds like fun. Ya know, I came over to introduce myself and tell you that I admire what you do. You're very creative and a great performer."

"Thanks."

It got awkward as Joe didn't know what to say next to a college senior not just out of his league, but not in the same universe as him. Angie was gorgeous.

"Okay," she smiled. "Thanks for the beer. We can talk about your film idea later."

Joe watched Angie walk away, admiring her ass. The whole time they talked, Joe was being watched. Abby walked up behind him, brushing against him as she took his side. She held her cup out, "Can you fill me, again?"

Joe smiled, "I would love to." He took her cup, again.

She looked up. "So, whatever happened to you and Peter Smith? He was in this band with you, right?"

"That's ancient history, Abby."

"I just wonder what happened."

"He didn't like the direction we were taking the band. So he quit." He handed her a full beer.

"He told me doesn't like punk rock."

"So, if you know what happened, why are you asking?"

"I dunno. Just talking."

"He also didn't like Sal," Joe put his hand behind Abby's back and led her away from the keg. "I had to choose between them and it was an easy decision."

Sal overheard the conversation. "Peter's a little pussy," he said as moved toward the keg.

Joe found an open spot on the porn sofa. Abby sat, half on the arm, half on top of Joe. It took her months, but Abby finally cashed in on Joe's invitation to the garage, except she did it after school, hoping they'd be alone. Pops and Sal were present that day, so nothing happened. Now she was in the house for her first party.

Joe felt a presence. He looked up. Claire was standing in front of him, ignoring the high school girl in his lap.

"Can we talk?" She asked.

"Sure, I guess," Joe said flatly. "About what?"

She looked at Abby. "Alone. Can we talk alone?"

Joe rolled his eyes, "I can't think of anything we need to talk about... alone."

"Please. Don't be a jerk about it."

Joe nudged Abby. "Can you hold my seat? I promise I'll be back shortly... after I deal with this."

Joe stood and followed Claire to the far end of the garage, behind Tony's cars. They stood between the GTO and the Impala. Joe stared at Claire, waiting for her to speak. It took a moment.

"I know you hate me," she said, "And I feel shitty about that. I want to be friends but you make it so hard."

Joe stared at her face, emotionless, without a word, his arms folded across his chest.

"Can't we get past what happened? I like you, Joe. You know that. You have to put yourself in my shoes. Would you date a girl two years younger than you?"

"If I really liked her, yes."

"Okay, bad example," Claire said, stepping closer to Joe. "It's different for girls. There's a divide between high school and college, and I..."

"I'm well aware of the difference."

"You just don't date high school boys when you're in college."

"I'm still in high school, so why the fuck are we talking?"

"I didn't say we can't be friends."

"Look around, Claire. I have more friends than I can handle."

Claire continued to make her case but Joe wasn't hearing every word. He was looking into her green eyes. He loved her intense eyes. She had a popular hairstyle of the seventies, the feathered look Farrah Faucet made famous, except Claire's reddish-blonde-auburn hair stopped at her shoulders.

Joe liked Claire, more than any girl he had hung out with, but he had trouble getting past her dumping him. Claire stopped talking. Joe didn't know what to say. He could sense her discomfort, and he was okay with that.

"You're eighteen, and that's a big deal," she said. "I've been thinking about what happened, and I hate that you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you."

"Oh c'mon. You ignored me in the alley behind the club, and you were a dick about it... and you're being dick right now."

"I've got nothing to say. I'm just a dumb high school kid."

"Please don't do that." Claire touched his arm and kept talking. Joe noted the low neckline of her pullover sweater, and how her bra pushed her breasts upward, showing cleavage. It was too cold for that much skin to be showing. Knowing she was on a mission, he assumed she did that for him. Joe then realized she had stopped talking.

"I don't know," he said in a barely audible voice, not actually answering any question because she hadn't asked one and he wasn't listening.

"I'm trying, Joe. I want to be friends and I'd like to talk."