All The Young Punks Pt. 30

---- MARCH 1980 ---

After meeting with his NYC crew, Joe decided he'd meet with Sal under one condition, "Sal has to come to me," he told Nate over the phone.

"What are you, the don wanting his ring kissed?"

Joe didn't reply because he was dead serious.

"Okay," Nate said. "Are you gonna be a dick about this?"

"Not at all," Joe said. "This is business. I'm not fucking around anymore. Sal needs to show me something."

Nate was smart enough to know what that meant. Joe wanted to meet on his turf and on his terms and Joe knew this would rub Sal the wrong way. He saw it as the first test of Sal's state of mind. If he said no, Joe would end any discussion of putting the old band back together. If Sal could swallow his pride and set his bitterness aside, they could talk.

It took two days for Nate to get back to Joe. Joe took that as Sal being a prick and Nate having to talk him down. Joe found it both unusual and comforting to have Nate as a voice of reason.

The appointment was simple, Sal and Nate would visit Cohen Studio in Chelsea for the first time at 10 AM. It was more than a four-hour drive with traffic jams on the Cross Bronx. Sal would surely be bitchy all morning. Joe, Simon, and Marty would be waiting. Marsha had picked up bagels. Joe was showing his hand. He had people in New York. He didn't need Sal.

"Hey, Marty." Joe waved from the studio to Marty in the control booth. "No studio tour today. This is business, not a social call."

"My business is a studio."

"You know what I mean," Joe shook his head. "Don't be so eagerly friendly with these guys."

Simon furrowed his brow. "What are you trying to accomplish being a hard ass?"

"I'm not. I'm just making sure everyone knows this meeting is not all back slappy good to see you. It's business."

Marty and Simon shared a confused glance.

Marty escorted Sal and Nate straight to the big sound room and left them with their bandmates, coffee, and bagels. The level of awkwardness was at eleven. Joe plowed into a bagel and cream cheese. "Try that toasted onion bagel, it's like Jehova blessed it."

Nate and Sal didn't get the joke, but they enjoyed the bagels.

The mere sight of Sal made Joe uncomfortable. It seemed that Sal sensed Joe's apprehension. He waited, watching Joe, looking for a gesture, a sign of peace. Joe didn't have it within himself to make the first move. He didn't feel he needed to apologize to Sal for anything. This was the crux of the Young Punks dilemma. Could one of them back down?

They chewed bagels and drank coffee in near silence, only discussing the bagels, awkwardly.

It had always annoyed Joe that Nate was the uncommitted fence sitter, avoiding decisions by deferring to his bandmates. Now he was a player. This time, Joe was ready for Nate. He didn't underestimate his drummer.

Nate gestured at Joe's poster on the card table in the middle of the room. "So you're having a hard time finding guys," he broke the dumb silence as he sipped coffee.

"The right guys," Joe said. "There are plenty of musicians answering, but not the right guys."

"We've met some talent here," Simon said. "But they're not punk."

They continued to munch on bagels and sip coffee in discomfort. Joe didn't seem to mind. He didn't feel it was up to him to make a case. He waited for them to speak. After their last talk, Joe figured Nate would have his words ready. Instead, it was Sal who opened.

"Johnny's not doing very good up in Deerfield. He's not cooperating so they've extended his stay. I guess they had to get a court order to do that, and they did,"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Joe said. "I worry about what he'll do when he gets out."

"Me too," Sal said. "Look," he met Joe's eyes. "I'm sorry for how I handled this. I fucked up. I hope you realize I was trying to help Johnny by keeping the band together with him in it. He told me the band was all he had going for him. I didn't want you to replace him."

"I understand what happened and why," Joe said flatly, then stared at Sal, waiting for more.

"I feel like I'm being blamed for all of it. That's been fucking hard to take because I don't think..."

"Sal," Joe interrupted, "No one blames you for all of it, only your role in it. I played my part too. I hurt Johnny by staying in New York longer than we should have. That's on me. I was fucking selfish and I hate myself for it. I met Tina and...." he paused. "I fell in love and didn't want to leave town. I stayed even though I knew we needed to get Johnny home."

Joe noticed Sal's posture change, slightly relaxing his shoulders, and his expression softened a bit. Hearing Joe take his share of the blame erased some of his bitterness. Joe appreciated that Sal opened with an apology. It was a positive first step for both.

"I don't know what we must do to fix this," Sal said, "but I hope we can find a way."

"The first thing is to understand that I will never have Johnny in the band again. This lifestyle will kill him and I won't be part of that."

"I understand."

"The second thing is this," Joe pointed at his poster. "I didn't put this here to rub your nose in my search for new players. I wanted you to see this." He pointed at the words 'no drugs'. "I'll never have drugs destroy what I've worked so hard to build."

"What," Sal said, "We can't smoke a joint?"

"I don't give a fuck about weed. I like getting a little high. Pot is nothing. I'm talking about addicts. We've had two mother fuckers show up here stoned. They just didn't care, which is precisely the kind of person I won't work with."

"That's fair," Nate said. "I've seen enough of that shit."

Sal nodded. They all agreed. Joe took a sip of coffee before he continued.

"You have to accept Simon. No matter what happens today, he's in my next band."

"I have no issues with Simon," Sal said, looking at the Brit. "He's a good dude. I'm glad to see you've healed and are back on your feet." He turned to Joe. "I thought you were trying to replace Johnny, and that's why I bitched about Simon. It wasn't personal."

"I was working on a backup plan because I knew Johnny was going to fuck off on us eventually. I was trying to protect the band by having a way forward when that happened. I told Simon from the start, I'd never ask him to replace Johnny until he fucked off... and that's what he did."

Simon nodded, "That was the deal Joe and I had. Johnny had to leave on his own and you had to sign off. I would never walk into a hostile situation. You two were at each other's throats. I wasn't getting in the middle of that shit."

Sal nodded, "We're good with Simon."

"We'll be focusing on original music," Joe said. "Simon and I have more than a dozen songs we've worked on, some you already know. Eventually, I want to record a record right here. Marty is our guy and this studio will be our New York home."

"What about the garage?" Sal asked. "I've been doing some work, making it more livable. I figure we'll need more beds."

Nate laughed, "He's drawn up plans for more cubes, a room for each of us."

"Look," Joe said. "I'll be living in New York, and Simon isn't moving to Providence. We'll be there a lot. My family is there. So we'll definitely use the garage, but I'll be based out of here, living with Tina every day I can."

Joe had anticipated his move to New York would be a problem for Sal, and it was, but Sal wasn't dumb enough to make an issue of it at this first meeting. He glanced at Nate. Nate was hoping Sal wouldn't... and he didn't, except for one line.

"We're still a Providence band."

"Fine," Joe smirked. "That's where we started."

"Pops wants to know if the RV plan is back on," Sal said. "If it is, he wants you to come up and see his guy in East Providence."

"You can handle that, Sal. I have no interest in serving on the transportation committee. You two can work with Pops to find us a ride. I have only two requests."

"What's that?"

"It has to have two sleeping areas so two can rest while two drive and navigate, and we need lots of storage for gear, closed storage so the living space is not cluttered with our stuff. I don't want people to be able to peek inside and see our equipment."

"Okay, that sounds easy enough," Sal said. "How big do you want to go?"

"Don't buy a tour bus you need a special license for, get something manageable that anyone can drive. I'm getting my driver's license, Tina is helping me."

"It's about time," Sal smirked.

"We need backup drivers, and Simon doesn't drive, so it's me and Nate."

Sal glanced at Simon, "He doesn't even know what side of the road to drive on."

"That's because you wankers mucked it up," Simon replied.

"So Tina is teaching you to drive?" Nate smirked at Joe.

"She got me the New York DMV paperwork and a driver's instruction pamphlet. I'm driving her car because I need to take a road test. I'll have a license soon."

Joe sipped the last of his coffee. This meeting went as well as he could have imagined. There were no harsh words. Everyone came in trying to resolve their problems. Still, Joe didn't feel confident that he and Sal were over their past grievances because he was not. He didn't trust Sal, but he was trying. Giving him the job of finding a ride was his way of telling Sal he trusted him, and on that matter he did, but Joe doubted he'd ever fully trust Sal again.

"So, the next thing is to get back to work," Joe said. "Play some music to get Simon in a groove with you guys. We need to work on our new songs. I have a lot of stuff I'd like you guys to hear and kick around some ideas. I'd like to do that here so Marty can give us feedback, so you'll have to come back with..."

Nate leaned in, "We have our gear."

"You brought your drums? That's presumptuous."

"It didn't hurt to pack it. I figured there was more upside than down."

"We can get to work right now," Sal added.

"Reliable cunts," Simon snickered.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Joe asked.

"Not yet."

Joe looked over to the control room where Marty sat, likely listening in. "Hey Marty, can you have Marsha get them a room at The Chelsea?"

Marty waved.

"The Hotel Chelsea is right around the corner," he said to Sal. "You know it well. It's a no-brainer. Chelsea will be our home base in New York... and The Village."

Nate and Sal stayed in town for four nights. The band had long days in the studio, working into the evening. They ran through most of their covers, close to eighty songs, and began working on Joe's originals. Simon had his own compositions. He introduced two of his songs. The sessions went well, there was no outward tension, but Joe felt uneasy at times. It seemed to chafe Sal that Joe was taking full charge of the band, but Joe wondered if that was just his perception based on past grievances.

---- HAPPY BOY -----

After Nate and Sal returned to Providence, Joe spent a few days focused on Tina. She was happy the band was back together but he knew her mood would shift when they hit the road. The plan was for him and Simon to take the train up to Providence, spend some time at the garage fine-tuning their set, and play a few shows in RI and Mass.

"I'm so glad to have my happy boy back," Tina said while snuggling against him in bed. "You were cranky for weeks."

"I was not."

"Every time you came back from one of those meetings you were frustrated."

"Well, I had reason to be. We hand some real losers answering that ad."

"Yes, but you let it get you down, even on days you had no meetings." She kissed his chest. "You're much more relaxed now."

"Thanks to you. You're my drug, my attitude adjustment."

"What's the plan after you go home? When will you be back?"

"I don't know for sure. We'll play Providence and Boston, hit a few of our oldest clubs to see our friends and let them know we're back, and then we'll come here to start a new tour."

"And you'll be here for a week?"

"I figure we can do our four borough clubs over six days and then hit the road for a couple of weeks. My plan is to either start or end each road trip here. If we do that Jersey City bar we can have five clubs to play when I'm staying with you. That's a week of work. Then after the trip, we'll take ten days off. I'll spend most of that here, so you'll have me two weeks every month, give or take."

"That means half my life will suck."

"No, it won't, not if you don't let it. How you react to this is up to you. Only you control your happiness when I'm not here. It's not my job to worry about that."

"That's kind of harsh."

"Maybe it came out wrong. My therapist said fixing unhappiness is your journey. I can't take it for you."

"You spoke about me to your therapist?"

"Yup."

"What did you talk about?"

Joe zipped his lip, "Doctor-patient confidentiality prevents me from..."

Tina smacked him. "That's for the doctors. You can talk about it."

"We discussed your loneliness when I'm away and how I struggle with that. I feel terrible and don't know how to handle it. Dr Nichols said that's your journey, not mine."

Tina stared at Joe, not sure she liked the fact he was talking to his therapist about her.

"Look, T." Joe pulled her closer. "I'm the band manager. I call the shots on when and where we play. I'll make sure I have as much time as possible here with you, but you have to do your share by not making my time on the road miserable."

"I'll try, but it's gonna be hard." She lifted her head to look at Joe. "Especially knowing you have all those road girls pawing at you," She squeezed his dick. "trying to get in your pants."

"Please don't do that. I'm with you and those girls will know I'm off the market because I will make that clear to everyone who puts the flirt on me."

"Tell me about them."

"About who?"

"Your road girls. Nate once told me you had special friends on the road and when you play those towns you... hook up."

"And when did he tell you this?"

"A long time ago. I was upset when he said that but I chose to focus on what you had said before, that you met those girls in your journey to find me. I had past boyfriends and you had girls before me. I get that, the problem is, my exes aren't around, and yours are in every town you play."

"Every town? Is that what Nate told you?"

"He didn't say how many."

"Three. That's how many. Well, and Claire in Providence. I mentioned that the night you met her."

"I thought that was a dumb joke. So you had four girlfriends?"

"Not girlfriends like you're my girlfriend. It was just a..."

"I know what it is, Joe. And I trust you won't sleep with your road girls. I want you all to myself, and you said that's what you wanted. So I believe you."

"So, you don't want me sleeping with any girl I've met on the road."

"Yes." Tina made a 'duh' face.

"No exceptions?"

"Of course not, why would I allow exceptions?"

"I met you on the road. You're a road girl too."

Tina slapped his chest a little too hard, lifting her head to look at him. "I am not a road girl... or a groupie."

"What are you talking about? What was I doing when we met? We were playing in New York. Where am I from? Rhode Island. I was on the road when I met you."

"That is such bullshit. You didn't pick me up at the bar and fuck me after your show."

"But you've fucked me after many shows."

"I'm not just one of your groupies."

"No, you're not," Joe squeezed her. "You're my favorite groupie. You're number one."

She pinched his nipple.

"Ouch!"

"Stop that," she said. "I'm not one of your cheap road girls."

"No, you're a pricey road girl."

She slapped his chest again. "Don't call me that. I don't like it."

"Okay."

She rested her head back on his shoulder.

"And for the record, I never pick girls up in bars. They picked me up."

"I'm painfully aware of what goes on. I've seen them on you. It's so pathetic the way they bat their eyes and put their hands on you."

"You're so jealous."

"I'm not jealous. I think they're sad. I feel bad for them."

"So jealous."

"Shut up."

--- THE BRITISH ARE COMING ---

On the train ride to Providence. Joe gave Simon the lowdown on the garage, Pops, the hoodrats, and what he could expect upon his arrival. Simon had been in America for more than five years and never left New York City. He barely strayed from Manhattan. As Amtrak rolled through Connecticut, he said. "This is my second colony."

"You'll be adding a few more," Joe said. "real soon. We only play former colonies that booted your fancy pants, red coat, British asses out."

"Yeah, well, we're back."

"One fucking Limey isn't exactly a British invasion."

Joe and Simon had to lug Si's guitar, his amplifier, as well as a suitcase and Joe's duffel bag from Union Station to Kennedy Plaza to board the Ten Bus. As the bus pulled up, Joe nudged Simon. There was a Young Punks 1979 sticker on the bus. "I put that there." During the ride, Joe pointed out his favorite spots, starting with Haven Brothers food truck downtown and over Federal Hill.

"It's just your Little Italy," Simon said.

"The Hill is more than that."

Simon was a Gibson Les Paul guy and Vox amplification. His Vox AC 30 was a heavy haul from the nearest bus stop to the garage.

"This sucks," Joe complained.

"Why didn't you have Sal pick us up at the station?" Simon asked as they struggled.

"I don't want him to think I need him."

Simon stopped walking for a moment. "You need to grow up and get past that rubbish."

"I'm working on it."

Joe walked into the garage with Simon following. He set the amp down and his duffel bag on top of it.

"Holy crap," Pops said, "who's his character?"

"Pops, this is Simon. Simon, Pops."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," Simon politely offered his hand.

Pops laughed, pointing at Simon. "Is this guy for real?"

"Yes," Joe held back his laugh. "He's from London."

"We'll, I'll be." Pops shook Simon's hand looking up at him as if he was alien.

"It's the spikey blonde tips," Joe said to Simon. "Pops can't believe a grown-ass man would dye the tips of his hair." He paused. "Neither can I, but what do I know?"

"You're not exactly a trendsetter in fashion," Simon looked at Joe's thick, dark, mop. "You don't even own a comb."

While Pops' was looking up at Simon, his eyes widened. "Oh, you're the guy who got...." Pops saw the scars. "I'm sorry that happened. Sal told me."

"I'm moving on," Simon said. "What bloody choice do I have?"

The guys sat at the kitchen table. Pops offered coffee. Joe laughed. Pops didn't know why until Joe made a proper English lady voice, like Monty Python would do.

"Simon would like a spot of tea, and if you have scones that would be delightful. The drier the better." He looked at Simon. "There's no tea here."

"I'll run to the market and get some," Pops said. "Is Earl Grey okay? My wife drinks it."

"You don't have to run to the market, Pops," Joe said. "But next time you're there, Simon will be here a while. Tea would be nice."

"Do you need anything else?"

"Scotch, Irish Whiskey," Simon smirked. "For my tea."

"On the train ride up," Joe looked to Pops. "I made the mistake of telling Si you owned a liquor store."

Pops pointed at the cabinet above the kitchen sink, "Everything you need is up there. Help yourself. If it's not, let me know and get it for ya."

Joe nodded toward the construction going on along the east wall of the garage. "So this is Sal's nesting project?"

"Yup, and he's working hard on it, as you can see."

Joe turned to Simon, "Those two office cubes have been here forever. Tony has a desk in one, and Sal has a bed in the other. Sal is building more cubes. He's nesting."

"For what?" Simon asked. "Is he having chicks?"

Pops smiled, "Yeah, and his chicks are Nate, Joe, and you. My kid is worried that Joe is taking the band to New York because his girl is there, and now you're in the band. He's trying to make this place more attractive as Young Punk HQ."