All The Young Punks Pt. 29

"Tina, this is Betty McDonald. Betty, this is Tina Costello."

"I recognize you," Betty said, pointing at her hair. "It's hard not to."

"Betty and I graduated together," Joe said. "I told you one of my classmates is at NYU."

"I remember," Tina smiled. "Nice to meet you."

"What are you doing here?" Betty asked again.

"I sort of live here," Joe pointed west, "over on Jones Street. "I live with T most of the time now."

"Did the band move here?"

Joe exhaled, "The band is history. We broke up."

"No way! How did that happen? You guys were okay last June."

"That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since graduation."

"I'm sorry to hear that. So what are you doing then?"

"I'm trying to start a new band but finding musicians is not as easy as I thought it would be." Joe pinched her jacket. "What's up with the leather? Are you trying to be a punk?"

"No, but..." she blushed. "It's embarrassing. I don't want to be a nerd in college. My parents bought me this for graduation. I love it, but it seems a leather jacket doesn't change who you are."

"I like the red leather on a girl. It's a good look."

"Thanks. I have to get to class," Betty frowned. "I'm so sorry. I'd love to talk."

"Ya know," Joe said. "Maybe if you were late for class once in your life, or maybe even skipped a class to have fun, you could shed this nerd thing you're cursed with."

Betty stared at Joe, not sure how to respond.

He put his palm out. "Do you have a pen?"

Betty fished a pen from her purse and handed it to Joe. he grabbed a book she was carrying, opened the cover, and wrote the phone number at 3C.

"That's Tina's phone at the apartment. Call me. We can grab lunch or something."

She reached for her pen. Joe pulled it away. "It has to be during a class you're ditching."

"I'd like that," Betty smiled, taking her pen back. "It's so good to see you." She turned to Tina, "and to meet you. So you two are together?"

"Yup," Joe smirked. "How lucky am I?"

"It's not luck, Joe," Betty said. "I'm late. I have to run." She hurriedly walked off.

"Don't forget to call."

Joe and Tina resumed walking. She leaned against him. "So, is that one of your exes?"

"No. We're just friends. Betty is a sweet girl."

"Yes," Tina leaned against him. "She's just your type."

"I'm trying to be a bad influence on her that will be good in the long run." He looked at T. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I do."

--- THE DRUMMER SPEAKS ---

The search for replacements had become a burden. Weeks ago Joe had expanded his ads to three new publications, not The New York Times, but small papers that covered the local music scene. He papered every record shop and music store south of Harlem with his posters. Six weeks into his search, he was unable to comprehend how the birthplace of punk rock, a city of seven million people, could be void of punk musicians. After he and Simon met the latest bass candidate at the studio, Joe was down, borderline depressed over his inability to find the right guys

"I really liked this guy," Joe said. "but the moment he walked in with that acoustic bass I knew he wasn't the right fit. He was pure rockabilly."

"At least he was one of the genres you listed, not some prog rock weirdo like the last two."

"He was the first guy that made me think I could be in a band with him. He's cool."

"He was a little too old, don't you think?"

"Who cares? If he fits, he can play, and is a good dude, I don't care if he's forty."

"Do you think he was that old?"

"Close to it."

One of the most frustrating aspects of his search was the fact most of the men inquiring were not punk rock players, and some went into the meeting trying to convince Joe and Simon they should play other music, like heavy metal, prog rock, and power pop. That was a non-starter. The moment a candidate began pitching his band ideas, Joe ended the meeting, sometimes rudely if they didn't get the message.

"I'm taking the train back home tomorrow," Joe said as he cased his Butterscotch Tele. "Jeremy says Nate wants to talk. I think I owe him that, but if he goes to bat for Sal, I'll have nothing to say. I can't go there."

"So you'd take Nate back?"

"I don't have a beef with him. So yeah, I'd consider it."

*****

Three days later, Nate walked into the kitchen of the Theroux house. The girls were in school, Dad was at work. Mom was busy making lunch. Joe didn't take this meeting thinking he wanted Nate back. It was more a courtesy than Joe trying to get business done.

"Hey buddy," Joe shook his hand. "How've you been?"

"Not great," Nate said. "but I'm here. How about you?"

"I'm still on the right side of the grass. Have a seat, Mom is making us lunch. "Mom, this is Nate."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. T."

Mom nodded, "I've heard a lot about you, Nathan."

"I hope it was good."

Mom smirked and went back to lunch prep.

Joe shrugged. "It wasn't all bad. Any word on Johnny?"

"Not much, only that he's not cooperating in rehab. He hates the hospital."

Joe poured Nate a coffee as his former drummer sat at the table. The moment Joe joined him, Nate went straight to what was on his mind.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry again," he began, "but I need to know where we stand. You didn't break up with me did you?"

"No, that's why you're here."

"Is there a chance we can put this back together? I know you have Simon and I have no problem with him. He's a good man."

"I need to know if you can be in the band without Sal."

"Yes, I definitely can, but you need to hear me out for a minute?"

"Are you here to rescue Sal? I'm not fucking interested in saving him."

"Joseph, your language," Mom said without looking as she made grilled cheese sandwiches.

Joe rolled his eyes.

Nate smiled and went back to business. "You understand why he stood by Johnny. It's a family thing. They're practically brothers."

"Of course I do, but that doesn't justify his deception."

"Joe, I understand and I agree. I was caught in the middle of that and it was hard."

"That's because you're always uncommitted," Joe pointed a finger at him. "on the fence letting others call the shots. Had you spoken up, maybe Sal would have backed down and done the right thing."

"I'm not here to rehash what happened. Please, just hear me out," Nate paused. "Johnny didn't give a damn about the band, but Sal does. He knows he screwed up. If you can give Johnny a second chance, why can't you do the same for Sal?"

"Could he even be in a band without Johnny?"

"I think you need to talk it out, if you can, without getting at each other's fucking throats."

"Nathan," Mom turned to him. "You're a guest in my home."

"Sorry, Mrs T." Nate bowed his head.

"Do I have to forgive him, pretend his betrayal didn't happen?"

"Only if you can."

"Nope, I'm not even interested in trying."

Mom delivered grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches with bowls of Campbell's chicken noodle soup. She looked at Nate. "My son does not have a heart of forgiveness." She glanced at Joe as she turned away.

"Thanks for lunch, Mom," Joe said. "But you can keep your color commentary."

They each took a bite of their sandwich and stirred spoons in soup. There was a quiet minute before Nate continued.

"Sal didn't quit," he noted. "You made it clear that you threw him out. I didn't quit either. That means we're entitled to our shares of the band cash we've saved." He slurped a spoonful of soup. "Johnny is too."

"Johnny quit, right after he spit in Sal's face."

"The day after you kicked him and Sal out of your band. You made that pretty damn clear."

'Oh, shit,' Joe thought as he sipped his hot soup. That was a card he didn't anticipate being played. It was agreed long ago that if you quit the band, you walked away empty-handed. Joe never considered he'd kick someone out of the band. At that moment, he chose to not respond to the band's bank account.

"So, you're looking for a bass and drummer," Nate said. "When you find your new guys in the city are you gonna buy a ride for your new band?"

"I haven't decided how I'll handle that. One step at a time."

"Who's gonna drive? You don't even have a driver's license."

"I'll get one. I need a New York ID anyway."

"Does Simon drive?"

"No."

"You better hope the new guys drive. Are you good at changing tires and maintaining a vehicle?"

Joe exhaled, "Most bands don't have auto mechanics."

"Well, we did," Nate met Joe's eyes. "You never had to worry about our ride. Sal handled everything, including the driving."

"He's a menace," Joe laughed. "You can't leave him up there alone. He always gets lost. There must be a navigator... at all times."

"So what? Having two up front is the right thing to do... at all times."

Joe focused on his lunch for a minute without speaking. Nate was getting under his skin with his pointed observations disguised as questions. It annoyed him that he hadn't considered the band cash or thought through the whole band-ride-driver thing. If he brings on two young NYC dudes there would likely be zero drivers in the band. 'Fuck! Why didn't I think of that?'

"Joe, listen to me," Nate waited for Joe to look at him. "Sal is the devil you know." He paused. "And he comes with a lot of upside, his grease monkey skills, driving, the garage, and Pops. The old man misses you, and he blames Sal. The garage is not a happy place."

Joe exhaled, not answering Nate's last point. 'Fuck.' He looked up at the clock. "I have to leave right after lunch," he said. "I have a train to catch."

"I thought you just got here?"

"Two days ago."

"We don't see much of Joe these days," Mom added. "There are more important people in his life... in New York."

"Mom, stop. We can take this downstairs." He turned to Nate. "I promised T I'd be home to cook dinner tonight, and if I don't... she and Lana will punish me."

Nate smiled. "I'm sure they're rough on you." He turned to Mom. "You met T, right? She's a sweetheart." He smirked at Joe. "They make a cute couple."

"Yes," Mom said. "Tina is a nice girl."

"She's a naughty Catholic girl," Joe said under his breath, smiling at Nate.

"That talk is not necessary," Mom said.

They finished their lunch after Mom left the room. Neither had much to add. When Nate stood to leave, he shook Joe's hand and pulled him in close. "I'm only asking that you think about this and maybe not give up on Sal. Think of how much Johnny hurt you." Nate looked into Joe's eyes. "And you gave him a second chance. Don't you think Sal deserves one?"

"I said we could talk. We did that, and I listened. I really did. Now I have a four-hour train ride to think. That's all I can say right now."

"Just keep an open mind. Safe travels."

Joe patted him on the shoulder. "Shut up, Nate. I liked it better when you didn't have much to say." He smiled at Nate as he walked out.

While cleaning up lunch dishes, Joe thought about how Nate came into this far more prepared than he did. He played his cards perfectly and achieved his sneaky goal. Joe was now wondering how much money they had in the bank. He'd have to surrender 75% of that cash. What would he do for a band ride, and who would drive?

Joe threw a dish rag in the sink, "When the fuck did Nate learn how to make a case?" He went down to his room to pack. His mind would not rest during his Amtrak ride. The thought of taking Sal back made his spine shiver.

--- BLUE COLLAR MUSICIANS ---

Days later, Marty, Simon, and Joe sat in the studio discussing Joe's options. He first explained his meeting with Nate and the points made that threw Joe into a confused state of mind. The last thing Joe wanted to do was go back to Sal. Still, he had to tell Simon of Nate's crafty deployment of facts he had not considered.

"Let me tell you what pissed me off," Joe said as Marsha delivered coffee. "It wasn't Nate. It was the fact I was so unprepared for his argument. I went into that meeting a rock, thinking he could not move me on Sal... and then he did. It was so unlike Nate to have a well-thought-out plan. He caught me totally off guard."

"So you just assumed they would walk away from thousands of dollars?" Marty asked.

"I didn't think of the money because none of the band's problems were about money. We were never the poor, struggling musicians you always hear about. We were earners on day one."

"That's not true," Simon said. "You thought about the money. You told me you had the cash to finance a new band. You meant the Young Punks money, right? You thought it was all yours."

Joe exhaled hard. "I didn't think of it as my money. I just..." Joe stumbled for words. "I didn't think it through. I fucked up."

"So," Marty said, with his hands folded in his lap. "You can give up three-quarters of the cash you have and then move forward with Simon... or, you can take a meeting with Sal and Nate and see if you can work something out." He made sure Joe was looking at him. "Those are your options, right?"

Joe looked at the floor. "Fuck!"

They sat quietly for a moment. Joe was trying to think of the upside Nate had offered. As much as he hated the idea of being in a band with Sal Mancuso again, he had to admit the upside. His ego forced him to spin it... as if that somehow saved face.

"Ya know," he said quietly. "We were a blue collar band. Everything was a do-it-yourself. I want to maintain that, to be hard-working and as self-sufficient as possible."

"Every band needs help," Marty said. "You can't do everything yourself. That's why you're here, right? I provide you with something you can't do for yourself. You also have Sheila helping you find new venues. Do-it-yourself only gets you so far. I think you know that."

"And Sal brings those tools Nate so artfully pointed out," Simon added. "We need a bass player, a ride, and a driver. Good luck finding that guy. We can't even find the bassist."

"I don't want to go backward," Joe said. "I want to move forward."

"Sometimes a tactical retreat will help you achieve a strategic goal," Marty said. "Sure, playing with Sal again feels like you're going backward... but it's also a way forward."

"Who the fuck are you," Joe furrowed his brow. "Napoleon?"

Simon and Marty laughed.

"I guess I should meet with Sal?"

Marty nodded. "Only you can decide if you have a heart that forgives."

"Jesus Christ," Joe replied. "I need to write that song. You're the third person to say shit like that." He paused a moment. "How can you forgive someone who can't admit they did you wrong?"