All The Young Punks Pt. 09

"We're talking," Joe said, as he glanced toward the party he was missing. "Look, I'm going back to Abby. She's eighteen, like me. I don't have to worry about her being embarrassed by my age."

He walked away leaving Claire standing alone, surprised he was not willing to give her a second chance. She really liked Joe a lot, and Claire truly felt awful about how it ended months ago. An hour later, when the band was done with their second set, she saw Joe making out with his friend Abby. Claire went home, back to her dormitory at RIC.

Very late, after Abby and most of the guests had gone home. Joe told Angie, another RISD girl, and hoodrat Denny about the band's recent projection TV fiasco in New Haven.

"That night gave me this idea of using film in the show to project images on a screen behind us. It's probably too much work. Maybe you artists know how to make that work."

"You need a projector," Denny noted.

"I have a Bell & Howell Super 8. It's my Dad's. The problem is, I don't have the films and I'm not sure exactly what I want. I need to tie music and film together."

"I think that sounds interesting," Angie said. "The Velvet Underground did stuff like that."

"Really?" Joe winced. "Fuck. I thought it was my idea."

"It was," Angie smiled, "If you didn't see them do it first."

After kicking Joe's idea around for a few minutes, Angie said, "This kind of project takes time. Trust me. I've struggled with my art. If you want help, we have the resources at school."

Denny snickered. "Joe's not a big 'help guy." he made air quotes. "And he has to drag the band along for most of his schemes." He leaned toward Angie. "The guys don't add much outside the music."

"Like I said," Angie made eye contact with Joe. "Let me know if you want help."

Joe wanted to jump on her offer but hesitated. She was a college senior. He had no chance. She was a passionate artist, fun, and beautiful. He liked her style, from her fabulous afro to her clothing. Joe was definitely attracted to these artsy chicks.

---- PLEASE BE GENTLE ----

Two days after the garage jam party, Joe sat on the gaudy porn sofa. Abby was close by his side. She kissed him sweetly. Her hand went low, over his denim. Joe was hard. He wanted her to touch him, but he had something to say first.

"Hey, before you do anything, " He shivered at her touch. "like that. I need to..." he paused to find the right words. "I'm gone every weekend, gigs on Friday and Saturday. Plus we squeeze in a local bar during the school week. I'm just not... around."

"What does that have to do with this?" She said with her hand on the bulge in his jeans.

"I don't have time for a girlfriend," he said as Abby's lips met his. "And I'm not looking for one."

"Oh." Abby leaned back and smiled. "I didn't say I wanted a boyfriend, did I?" She leaned in and kissed him again. Her fingers found his zipper. "I don't recall saying anything about that."

"So you just want to..."

Abby answered by pushing her tongue in Joe's mouth while unbuckling his belt. One hand went behind his head, pulling him closer, while the other reached inside his pants. Joe's hands found her perky tits.

Sex in the garage was risky. It was a busy place, with people coming and going at all hours. Sal was working at the liquor store and Tony was home with Mrs. Meats. Still, people showed up. Only a few had a key, so Joe locked the door before they sat down. Thin Lizzy was playing on the stereo.

Abby leaned back for a moment, pulled her shirt over her head, and then went back to kissing Joe hard. He reached around to unclasp her bra. It fell between them. Abby pushed Joe's jeans down, tangled with his briefs. They bunched up at his knees. He reached down to push them lower.

Abby kept kissing him as she took hold of his cock, feeling his thickness in her hand. She looked down, stared at his rock-hard boner, and then looked back at him. Her mouth was slightly agape. "Oh my, Joe," she whispered, "You're... big." She went back to kissing, rubbing his shaft, while he kicked his sneakers off and then his pants.

Abby eased off on her kissing, more slow and sensual, her hand wrapped around his fat shaft. She stopped, placed her head on his chest, and looked down at the large knobby head in her hands. She lightly massaged him, admiring his length and girth.

She looked up into his eyes, "I'm kinda small, do you think..."

"You'll be fine. Do what you wish, the way you want. You're in charge."

She smiled, "Okay, " and kissed him. "Please be gentle."

"Of course." Joe kissed her back, very lightly caressing her nipples.

She kissed him sweetly, then slipped down, stretching her legs across the sofa, Abby took Joe's crown into her warm mouth. He leaned back, his hand went to the back of her head as she pushed a little deeper.

---- SUPERSTAR ----

Joe walked down Atwells Avenue on a weekday after school. He had skipped the sixth period and took the Ten Bus through crosstown traffic to buy the new Joe Jackson album, Look Sharp. As he passed St. Johns Park, he noticed Miles Carter, star forward for CHS basketball, shooting alone. How could MC be here when surely there was a practice a mile away at school? Joe's curiosity got the best of him. He walked into the park and made a straight line to Miles. The big man saw him coming.

"Hey, Joe. How's it going, man?"

"Good MC. What the fuck are you doing here?" Joe set his vinyl on a picnic table and removed his leather. "Isn't there practice?" He rubbed his cold hands together. Joe paused to make eye contact with the taller black teen. He smirked. "After that last game, there should be."

"Awwww," Miles leaned away from Joe. "That's cold man. LaSalle is good. We played a great game, they just got us at the end."

"Because you missed two free throws and here you are, at the park, shooting alone."

"I got suspended from the team."

"They did it? I didn't think Coach Perry had the balls." Joe put his hands out, wanting the ball. "What was that tantrum about?" MC passed Joe the ball. "You have to keep your cool, MC."

Miles laughed loudly as Joe dribbled the ball, "Joe Theroux is telling me to keep my cool?" He placed his hands on his knees, bending over, fake laughing. Joe waited for Miles to look up before lofting a seventeen-foot rainbow... nothing but net.

There was a moment of silence, except for the bounce of the stray basketball. MC nodded at Joe, "Alright. I remember this from CYO." He retrieved it and tossed a chest-high pass at Joe cutting into the paint. He took the pass and made an easy layup... then grabbed the ball under the hoop and fired a pass back to Miles. He received, planted his feet squarely, and drained a twenty-two-footer from what would soon become the three-point line in the future NBA. The ball took a big bounce to the grass.

Miles walked up to Joe, "You should be playing."

"I'm not big enough."

"That's bullshit." MC put his finger in Joe's face. "Ricky Gallo is smaller and he's not better than you."

"That kid hates me," Joe laughed.

"You made him look bad at St Marys. He was the golden boy and you stole his ball in the big game." Miles smiled. "...twice."

"And that's the pinnacle of my hoops career, The Holy Ghosts 46 St. Marys 44."

6'5" Miles looked down at Joe, who was still hoping to make six feet someday. "That's the last time I let Gallo lose a game."

"Until last week." Joe walked the steps to get the ball.

"Yeah, and I let him fucking know about it."

"And now you're suspended."

"Yeah."

Joe threw a pass from the grassy knoll to the free throw line. MC took the pass and lifted a fall-away jumper... doink, it rimmed out."

"How can you drop bombs from downtown but can't hit that?" He passed the loose ball back to MC. He made the second free throw.

Joe walked over to the picnic table. MC picked up his ball and followed, dribbling. They sat across from each other, MC offered Joe water. He passed.

"I gotta get home," Joe said while gathering his leather and vinyl.

"Hey, man. We appreciate what you did for the twins. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, MC." Joe nodded. "I know how it works around here"

"You know we couldn't put hands on Russo, right?"

"Yeah!" Joe said emphatically. "I just said I know how it works."

"If a black kid smacked down a wop on The Hill, all hell would break...."

"Miles!" Joe interrupted. "You don't have to explain. I know. The girls are good, right?"

Miles nodded. "Yeah, they're cool, man. Thanks." He took a big swig of water. Joe waved and stepped away.

"Hey, I would tell you to be cool, Theroux, but you already are." He smiled, "Stay that way."

Joe walked home feeling good that Miles, a very talented and popular athlete, thought he was a good basketball player, and he was cool. He hadn't played on a team since age twelve, Catholic Youth Organization, but it still felt good.

--- GOSSIP GIRL ---

Jackie walked down to the basement into the dungeon. His finished room was adjacent to the furnace and heating oil tank. The laundry was down there as well, along with a small workshop on the damp side of the basement where the sump pump was.

Jackie knocked on his door. "It's me."

"Come in."

She walked in. Joe was sitting on his bed, back against the wall, scribbling in a Mead composition notebook. Paul Revere and the Raiders played on the stereo, one of Dad's old records. He looked up. "What's up?"

"Are you going out tonight?"

"I am."

Jackie sat on the end of the bed. She pushed her long dark hair from her face. "I heard a rumor about you today."

"Oh really, which one this time? Is it that I escaped a mental hospital? Or that I dated both Washington twins?" Joe thought for a moment. "It's the blood-drinking, isn't it? I'm a Satan worshiper."

"No. What's this about the Washington twins?"

"Nothing. Whad'ya hear?"

"That you and Abigail Bonner were making out at your birthday party."

"Well, at least one rumor is true."

"You know she's a slut, right?"

"Shut your face." Joe shot his gossipy sister a cold glare. "Don't talk about people like that. These kids are assholes, everybody talking shit behind backs. I hate fucking gossip." He pointed a finger at Jackie, "Don't be one of them."

"Well, she is kinda slutty. They call her Abby Boner."

"Because one guy ran his mouth. He was okay with Abby sucking his dick. She was fun. But then she dumped him and he was an asshole about it. That doesn't make her a slut. It makes him a piece of shit."

Jackie stared at Joe, "So you're having sex with her?"

"It's none of your damn business." Joe put his notebook down and scooted near his sister. "I bet every girl you think is a tramp has one thing in common, douchebag boys talking about them. Some of it's true, but a lot is crap. Guys who never get laid like to talk as if they are."

"What if more than one guy says she had sex with him?"

"So what? Once one jerk says a girl is easy, guys line up. Then they start talking about her whether she fucked them or not. Someday it might be you breaking up with a guy and him talking shit about you. It happens all the time."

"So what's the rumor about you and the twins?"

"It's garbage I won't even talk about." Joe paused for a moment, looking at Jackie with concern. "Don't be the one spreading rumors. If someone tells you trashy gossip, be the dead end."

"I can't stop the rumors."

"But you don't have to spread them. Abby is cool. I like her. The cool chicks and the popular girls always have other girls sniping at them. Abby thinks you're cool, she said so, but don't be too cool, or kids will try to tear you down."

"She said I was cool?"

"Yeah, she did."

"What are they saying about you and the Washington twins?"

"Jesus, Jackie. You can't let shit go. Why don't you ask the gossipy bitches at school? They'll give you the dirt."

"Or you can just tell me."

"Do you know John Russo?"

"Yeah, he's a jerk."

"He's a racist piece of shit too. He was picking on Nicole and Monique because he didn't like black kids cutting through his neighborhood. They were just walking home from school. I guess this was going on for a while, but I didn't know."

Joe moved back to where he was when his sister walked in, sitting against the wall.

"One day I saw him get in the girls' faces on Knight Street, yelling at them, and he knocked books out of Nicole's hands. I ran across the street and punched him in the ear. He went down and I stomped on him. I told Russo if he ever picks on the twins again I'll break his face. After that, I walked the sisters home until they said they felt safe. It was one week, but the kids noticed and started talking. When Russo went after them again the twins told me. I slapped Russo's face in front of his boys and warned one more time."

"And now kids think you fooled around with the twins."

"Yes. Because we're friends and I hung out with them for a while."

"Did you?"

"Did I do what?

"Fool around with the twins?"

"Scram. Get out of my room. Either way, it's not your business. The kids who talk shit are idiots.

Don't be an idiot."

Joe watched his sister leave, concerned Jackie was becoming a prude, like Mom. They went to church together and Mom was laying the groundwork for Jackie to become self-righteous and judgemental, which he loathed. He was trying to be the bad influence on her that would actually be good in the long run.

---- IT DIDN'T MATTER ----

A few weeks after Joe's birthday jam, he arrived at the garage on a weekday evening after getting his sisters settled in. He was surprised to see Claire and her roommate in the lounge area talking with Sal, Pops, and Denny. Sal smirked, watching Joe with a side eye, knowing he would be annoyed that Claire was present.

Joe could avoid her if she showed up for a party, or attended one of their gigs, but this was too small a gathering for him to hide. He went straight to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a beer.

"What the fuck?" He glared at Sal. "I buy a six-pack of Molson, have two beers, you drink the rest and replace it was this swill?" He twisted the cap off a bottle.

"There's nothing wrong with Budweiser?" Sal barked back. "That's Pop's beer."

"Sorry, Pops, but your taste buds must have burned out in the sixties." Joe took a sip. "This shit is awful."

"Then don't drink it," Tony said.

"Good idea." Joe walked to the sink and dumped the rest.

"What are you doin'? Sal protested. "Don't waste it. I would have drank that."

"How about this," Joe pointed the neck of the empty bottle at Sal, "If you drink my Molson, replace it with Molson. Pops owns a liquor store. It's not like you're paying for it."

While Joe was talking, Claire had gotten off the easy chair and walked his way. She arrived by his side as he finished bitching about bad beer. "How about I drive you over so you can get your beer?"

Joe stared at her blankly, giving her nothing.

"I'd like to talk," she said, "and maybe you can listen this time."

Joe took a deep breath, then exhaled audibly. "Okay." He looked at Sal. "Who's working the store tonight?"

"Dickie," Pops answered.

"I'm asking him for a freebie since your son drank the beer I paid for," Joe said, then walked to the door with Claire on his heels.

Joe got into Claire's putrid, Mopar green 1972 Plymouth Duster and turned off the radio after she started the engine. He then cranked up the heater. It was a cold winter night in the mid-twenties. He shivered.

"I hate fucking winter."

"I know," Claire said as she pulled a U-turn to leave the lot, having to swerve to avoid a gargantuan pothole that swallowed cars. "I don't know what to say that will help you forgive me, but I want to try one more time."

"I'm listening."

"Last spring when I stopped seeing you, I had already told you I had a summer job in New Hampshire. Do you remember?"

"Yes. You have a summer boyfriend at camp."

"Right. And I had told you I'd be gone for eight weeks and we should just do whatever we wanted over the summer." Claire stopped at a red light and looked over at Joe. "So I think you already knew we weren't serious at that time, and we hadn't yet... ya know."

"Yes, I know what we didn't do. But we did some things, and you didn't stop seeing me because of summer camp. It was because of my age."

The light turned green.

"I know, Joe, but we weren't going steady or anything like that. I see how girls are around you at gigs. You can do whatever you want."

"What does that have to do with you dumping me because I'm in high school?"

"I guess it doesn't. I'm just pointing out that we were just casual and I didn't break up with you. I was surprised you weren't graduating, and you..."

"And you stopped seeing me the moment you found out."

"And I was leaving for New Hampshire two weeks later, so it didn't really matter."

"Fine. It didn't matter to you. I get it."

Claire sighed, exasperated, as she pulled in front of Atwells Liquor Mart.

"I'll be right back," Joe said as he got out of the car.

Claire sat on Atwells Ave, waiting. She could see Joe inside, standing at the counter, trying to convince Dickie that Pops was okay with him taking a twelve-pack of Molson Golden Ale. When he returned, he put the box on the floor between his feet. Claire pulled away from the curb and continued.

"When we first met I thought you were a senior and would be graduating soon. I was okay with that. I assumed you were eighteen. You're a mature guy for your age, you work hard, and your bandmates are all older, so I just figured..."

"Wrong. You figured wrong and you never asked me. And then you acted like it was my fault you didn't know."

"Can we get past that? I know how old you are now. And I know you're graduating in June. And I want to be friends again. Is that possible?"

Joe sat quietly as the Plymouth rolled down the west side of Federal Hill.

"I'm sorry, Joe. I'm sorry I never asked and I'm sorry if I hurt you. You're right. It wasn't your fault. It's just how it happened. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I'm just asking. It's up to you."

Joe remained quiet as they turned north on Eagle Street. As she pulled into the large industrial complex the factory garage was part of, Claire put her hand on Joe's arm. "I'm trying my best. Can you at least try a little?"

When she parked and cut the engine, Claire asked Joe to wait a moment, "I want to know, so I can stop obsessing over this and wondering if we can ever be the same."

Joe sighed. "I can try."

The whole time Claire was talking, Joe kinda knew he was going to let her off the hook, eventually. He just let her twist in the wind a little. He appreciated that she was trying, especially her apology.

"What about this girl Abby?" Claire asked.

"What about her?"

"Are you guys dating? It sure seemed that way."

"We hang out after school sometimes. She's not my girlfriend."

"When did you see her last?"

"At school, today."

"Does she think you might be her boyfriend?"

"We've talked about it. I don't think so."

"Have you... ya know?"

"Are you trying to make us a steady thing?"

"No. I'm just... wondering what's going on with you and her."

"We hang out, get high, and fool around a little. Is that a problem? You live in a college dormitory. I don't know what goes on there, and I don't want to know."

"So that's how it's gonna be? That's how you want it?"

"For now... I guess. We'll see how it goes. You do have your summer friend."

On the garage loading dock, just outside the steel-clad industrial door, the winter wind blew as Joe reached for the doorknob. Claire tugged on Joe's leather. He turned to her. She pulled him in close. Claire kissed him gently on the lips.

"I really missed you, Joe. This whole time I thought a lot about what happened and how stupid it was."