All The Young Punks Pt. 40

--- SEPTEMBER 1982 ---

Joe popped into AA to check on Laura and the next road trip. She was doing well in her tour planning but wasn't two trips ahead as Joe would prefer. Laura assured him the next tour would be ready before the end of the current trip. He wanted his dates sooner. When he walked in, Laura had a desk in the big room, with three empty desks nearby.

"What's with the new furniture? He asked. "Is she expecting someone?"

"She hired another guy. He started last week and it's not good."

"Where is he?"

"They're at a meeting somewhere in town."

"He goes to meetings with her?"

Laura shrugged. "I don't know. His name is Ken, and I've been showing him how I do things, getting him up to speed."

Joe didn't like the sound of that. "What the fuck is she doing?"

"You said you'd be sending more bands and she wants to be ready. We heard from Ruby Slippers and Jada Jones was here last week. We're planning road trips for both bands." Laura met Joe's eyes. "She's a real piece of work."

"Yeah," Joe smiled. "Jada is a lot to handle. Can you let me know when The Slippers are in town? I need to speak with Gary."

"Okay." Laura made a face. "Do you think she's going to replace me?"

"That would be detrimental to her business. If she fires you, come straight to Guerilla Records and we'll hire you to run our tours."

"And what about her?"

"You know I regret hiring Sheila." Joe sat at the adjacent desk. "I don't trust her. Of course, you know this is between you and me. I have no intention of renewing her contract when it's up. I have to pay her percentage for the duration of that contract whether she provides services or not."

"What happens then?"

"We start running tours out of Guerilla Records and I would like you to be that person... if that interests you."

"I appreciate that, but I don't think this is my future."

Joe shrugged. "When I shit can Sheila, it'll be your call. There won't be any work for you here. When I pull my band I'm taking all the Guerilla bands with me."

A week later, Laura called Joe to inform her that Sheila had demoted her. She was back on phone duty and Ken was now running all tours. Joe was angry, but he kept his cool, asking Laura to sit tight and not make any moves.

"Are you coming here to speak with her," Laura asked.

"Not now. I'm too hot. I'd probably say something I regret. I have to talk with Marty and Stan."

"Okay. I'm not happy about it," Laura said. "I enjoyed that work, but it's not the end of the world."

"I need your eyes and ears," Joe said. "Something is going on here. Sheila's hiring people she doesn't need. She's either scheming or has a big deal coming her way."

"She's hired another girl to help her with her Broadway clients. She starts in two weeks."

"How can she afford these people? I know how much we pay her. It's not enough to support all..."

"She has other clients, Joe. Sheila just signed two more television actors and last month she added three Broadway people. You're not her only income. And maybe you're right. Maybe there's a big deal in the works. She's had more calls and meetings the last three weeks than usual, by a lot."

"Okay. I guess that's good. Keep me posted."

"She wants you to come in and meet Ken."

"Not yet. For now, I'm gonna conduct business on the phone with him. I don't want her to think this is okay. But if that guy fucks up, I'll be there."

"The Ivy League Tour was my last job," Laura said. "After that, it's all Ken's work."

--- IVY LEAGUE --

Joe often got these ideas that made sense to him, even if they didn't make much sense to anyone else. The Ivy League tour was one of them. Once they had a venue in Princeton he wanted to link every Ivy League school and small colleges along a route he had planned and then passed on to Laura. She did the work, finding the nights that would work in the eight Ivy League cities and filling in dates between those nights. One of those filler shows was at Middlebury College, a gig Joe had requested. He was determined to see Sandy Ruggerio.

The band was set up, ready to play, the crowd filing in. Joe stood near the bar talking to some girls who'd been at the first Middlebury show. He noticed a familiar face coming his way. Sandy smiled when her eyes met Joe's. His heart fluttered as it always did when he saw his first crush. He went straight to her with his arms out. They embraced.

"I'm so happy to see you," she said. "Why haven't you returned my calls?"

"What calls?"

"Well, it was a long time ago."

"The summer after graduation?" He shook his head. "That's three years ago."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I can't believe I haven't seen you in three years. Where have you been?"

"I split my time between home and New York and I'm on the road a lot." He poked her. "And I was here six months ago. Where were you?"

She pointed, "Just up the street with no idea you were in town. I heard about your show the day after, and honestly Joe, I cried. I was so upset that I missed you."

"Me too," he said with a smile. "Well, I didn't fucking cry, but I was very disappointed. We were on the radio, how did you miss it?"

"I don't know. I just did. When I heard your music on WRMC a couple of days later, I cried again. I'm so proud of you, Joe. You have a record."

"We have two records. Did you know that I own the record label?"

She smacked his chest, "Get out. You're kidding, right?"

"No. I have partners in New York. That's where Guerilla Records is."

"How do you own a company?"

"It's actually not as big a deal as it sounds. I have five partners." Joe gestured to the stage. "Those three guys and two New Yorkers we teamed up with. We're a very small and insignificant company."

Sandy stared at him. "I don't know what to say." She hugged him again. "I'm so happy to see you."

Joe exhaled. "I have a job to do. Are you sticking around?"

"Of course."

Joe bought Sandy and himself a drink and then excused himself to do his job. He was feeling good, and those vibes came out on stage. His level of energy was high. The band did an old bit they could only do once at each venue, the broken stick gag. Nate and Joe squared off, barking insults, the crowd stunned, believing the band was about to brawl with itself. Then Sal pulled the drumstick from his pants and the band laughed at the students, "You gullible twats!" Sandy was delighted. She had seen the gag before at The Living Room.

Joe and Sandy sat on the edge of the stage for the entire set break catching up. When Joe went back to work he had one request. "Please hang around until after the show."

After the second set, Joe asked his mates if they could break down the stage and stow his gear. Sal rolled his eyes, pretending it was a major inconvenience. As he walked off with Sandy, Sal turned to Simon and Nate.

"Now we're gonna see how committed Joe is to this one-woman nonsense. If any chick could break him down," he nodded Joe's way. "It's that one."

Joe gave Sandy the forty-second S.S. Minnow tour. These small college towns are not cities that never sleep. There are no 24-hour diners. Joe and Sandy walked the streets of Middlebury, the campus, and then sat on a bench talking and reminiscing.

"Are you cold?" She asked.

"It's chilly, but I'm okay."

"Let's go inside," She pointed. "My dorm is right there."

As they walked across a grassy area towards her building, Joe got a queasy feeling. He shouldn't be going to her dormitory. He hoped there was a student lounge they could talk in.

Sandy held his hand. "Where are you staying tonight?"

"The Minnow. We'll be on the road early. We play at Cornell tomorrow night."

"That doesn't sound comfortable, four guys crammed into that little RV."

Joe laughed. "Especially when there are only two beds. We'll get a hotel tomorrow night because we have an extra day in Ithaca."

Inside Painter Hall, they walked through the student lounge Joe was hoping for. Two girls jumped off the sofa and came to them. "We just got back from your show," A bubbly blonde said. "We love you guys."

"Thanks," Joe said, noticing the girls eyeballing Sandy and her giving it back. "I went to high school with her," he said, pointing at Sandy.

"Cool," a brunette said, as Sandy pulled Joe away. "When do you think you'll be back?"

"Not until spring," he said.

The queasiness in Joe's belly was developing into a mini-panic. He couldn't sleep with Sandy. Of that he was sure. Sandy opened her door. Joe followed her inside and noted two beds. He was relieved, 'The roommate will save me."

Sandy turned on a desk lamp. Joe sat on the desk chair in an attempt to avoid the bed. Sandy took her light jacket off and sat on her bed.

"This is my life," she said. "It gets cramped in here."

"Is your roommate cool?"

"Yes, she is. Why are you sitting over there?"

"It's a chair and I've been standing most of the night."

"Sit with me," she patted her bed. "We have to talk. I have to talk. I've been wanting to talk to you since graduation."

Joe could talk. That was okay. He got up and sat beside her, but left more than a two-foot buffer of air between them. He figured she'd have to make an aggressive move to cross the divide, and that was not Sandy's style. She immediately scooted closer and put her hand on his.

She exhaled, "Sometimes you don't know what you have until it's gone. After graduation, I had this dreadful feeling that I'd never see you again. It hurts to think that." She squeezed his hand and leaned against him. "That made me think of the things you said, how I hurt you..."

"I didn't say you hurt me."

"You did, Joe, in your own way. I wished I wasn't so intimidated by the changes you went through years ago, the dark side of you that scared me. I started to wonder that maybe you wouldn't have been that way if you were happy. And maybe I could have been the one to help you. I was your best friend and I pulled away." Sandy met Joe's eyes. "I'm sorry, Joe. I'm sorry I never gave us a chance."

"That's okay. You don't have to apologize. We've had this talk. It never would have worked. I didn't have the chariot to escort..."

Sandy smacked him. "Stop saying shit like that."

"It's true. You never dated a guy in high school who didn't have a car. Even in Freshman year, at fourteen, what's his name was sixteen and had a car."

Sandy said nothing. They sat in silence for an uncomfortable half-minute. Sandy put her hand on Joe's face. "I know we can't change what happened. If you'd like, you could stay in here tonight. My roommate made other plans."

Joe sat frozen for a moment. 'Great, she has a plan. And now she wants to fuck me?'

He reached up, taking her hand from his face. He kissed her fingers. "You know I would love to, but I can't." He paused. "I have a girlfriend in New York."

Sandy leaned back. "Oh, and you're just telling me now? We've been talking for..."

"I know," he said. "I didn't want to just blurt it out."

"We've been talking all night, for hours now. You could've mentioned her. What's her name?"

"Tina."

"You could have mentioned Tina before I went and made an ass of myself." Her voice was breaking. Joe put his arms around her.

"You didn't make an ass of yourself. Had I known you had this in mind, I would have spared you. I honestly didn't expect you to..."

"You came to my dorm room," she said with emotion in her voice. "What did you think was..."

"I thought we might hang in that lounge down the hall."

"With drunk chicks who love your band?"

"I didn't know they were there."

They went quiet again. Joe held her. Thankfully, Sandy didn't cry, but her emotions were out there; in her eyes, in her voice, and in the way she trembled in his arms. Joe didn't know what to do except plot his escape.

Driving to Ithaca the following morning, Joe felt like crap. If he never sees Sandy again, her last memory of him would be his rejection and her embarrassment. Those thoughts hurt him.

The Ivy League Tour, fourteen shows in all, was a success. After the band played Princeton, they headed back to New York where they would begin work on their third album. The next road trip would be put together by the new guy at AA, Ken. Joe still didn't have dates for the final tour of the year, and he was feeling anxious.

--- THE WUNDERKIND ---

Joe sat in Fine & Shapiro talking to the waitress, Doris, who had known Stan for twenty-five years. Joe's Jewish partners were late for the deli.

"The girls and I have been wondering," Doris said, pen and pad in hand, another pen in her red hair, tucked behind her ear. "How do you know Stan?"

"I'm in a band, Marty owns a recording studio, Stan is his old friend, and now we're business partners."

"You, and the grumpy old geezer, partners?"

Joe nodded.

"You're an odd couple." Doris shook her head. "In every way possible."

"I'm the young punk goy." Joe smiled.

"And he's the miserable old Jew."

"Stan's a good man, and I use his crankiness to entertain myself."

"Oh, I've seen it," Doris said with a smile. "The slurping and clanking cutlery. We all know what you're doing." She glanced at the other working girls.

"So, I'm entertaining you also?"

Doris nodded. "Yeah, I guess you are. Let me get you that coffee."

Joe looked at the menu, which was almost pointless. He was getting the pastrami. When Stan and Marty arrived, Doris was delivering one coffee and three glasses of water. Joe looked up at his partners.

"Is my time less valuable than yours? You're like," Joe looked up at the clock. "Eleven minutes late."

"Oh, shut up," Stan said as he hung his trenchcoat up on a hook and placed his old man hat on top of it. "We got stopped in between subway stations."

"For eleven minutes?"

Stan always sat on his side of the booth making Joe and Marty share a bench. Joe sat on the end, near the aisle, to see if Marty would ever try Stan's side. He never did. Joe had to slide inside to let Marty in. The old guys ordered their drinks and looked at menus.

Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out Roger Goodman's flashy new business card. He looked at it, and then across to Stan. "We had a visitor at Tommy's a few weeks back. He stopped by to see us play and left me his card."

Stan was looking at the back of the card as Joe sat quietly. Joe then handed him the card. Stan put his reading glasses on and stared at it. "Yeah. I know he changed jobs. It was a shock. He'd been at RCA since 1961."

"That's the year I was born. You say I'm a puppy. So not that long, huh?"

"Roger needed a change. After so many years in the same office with the same people, he wasn't excited anymore. So he joined the wunderkind at EIC."

Joe closed his eyes. "Don't tell me. I know his name."

"David Benjamin," Stan said.

"I told you not to tell me," Joe said. "It was right there."

Doris delivered coffee for Stan and a soft drink for Marty. She took orders, and as she was leaving, she looked at Stan. "So, you're business partners with this kid?"

Stan looked up with a mild scowl. "What business is it of yours?"

"I'm just askin'. The kid said so, and I was surprised."

"His name is Joe, and if he told you, why are you asking me?"

"Stan!" Joe interrupted. "Give her a break. She's just being social. You've known her for how many years? She can't ask you a simple question?"

Stan stared at Joe. His shoulders slumped a little. He looked up at Doris, "Sorry, hon. I was just stuck in the goddamn tunnel, and I'm cranky."

"What's your excuse for the other 364 days?" Joe asked with a smile. Doris and Marty laughed.

Doris put her hand on Joe's shoulder, "You're a good egg." and walked off to place the orders.

"So," Joe said. "What do Roger Goodman and David Benjamin want with me?"

"Not your publishing rights," Stan said. "They're concert promoters, an events company, big events, and they manage bands."

"Oh," Joe said, nodding his head. "I see. I didn't know David Benjamin was managing bands."

"He's always managed bands," Marty said. "And when he sent them on tour he began making connections in major cities, and then he started EIC to send other..."

"Fuck!" Joe said. "That's what we're doing."

Stan nodded, "Yes, but he plays with the heavy hitters. EIC is running the Yes tour, and the Allman Brothers."

"And they have nothing to do with recording and producing," Marty added.

"So they're way bigger than us, and they come at it from a different angle," Joe said while sipping coffee.

"That's fair," Marty said.

"Way bigger is not sufficient," Stan said. "We're fly shit in the ocean compared to EIC."

"That's like a non-starter for me," Joe said, pointing to the card sitting on the table. "What the fuck does he want with me? I have no interest in working with a giant management company."

"I understand that," Stan said. "But if you want to know why EIC is contacting you, you'll have to meet with Roger."

"After what I said to him?"

"If that guy schlepped himself to Hell's Kitchen and paid the cover at a dirty dive bar to see your band, he's probably gotten over your little tantrum."

Food arrived, ending the discussion on Roger and EIC. They worked on their lunches until Joe brought up the other thing on his mind.

"We're supposed to be on the road in twelve days and I don't even know where our next gig is. This new guy Sheila hired is not on the ball."

Marty and Stan looked at Joe, eating their sandwiches with no reply. Joe sensed they were tired of him complaining about Sheila.

"Does it matter how far ahead you have the dates?" Stan asked. "What difference does it make?"

"I just want to know the work is done and I want to see where we're playing."

"If he does a good job, does it matter how far in advance you have the schedule?"

Joe didn't answer. He sipped his drink, staring at Stan, and then Marty. "I'm just telling you I don't like flying by the seat of my pants. I don't like this last-minute bullshit with no clue of what's on the road ahead."

--- MONKEY TOES ---

Joe and Jenna sat in the living room while Tina showered. They had just finished dinner. Joe went on a happy rant, telling Jen how he loved that Tina was a goofball who screeched in girlish excitement at silly things, made googly eyes at him, and would stop in her tracks to point out a ladybug or butterfly.

"She reminds me of my sister Jeanie. T can be a little ditzy and naive at times. But then, she can shift social gears and become Miss Manners. She has elegance and charm that turns heads."

"That's why she's an up-and-comer, as you like to say."

"Those are Gail Mortensen's words, not mine. These art events are a little sobering for me. I see this professional side of her, the class, and confidence, and it scares me. She's way out of my league."

"Oh, please. She's crazy about you, Joe."

"For now, until she figures out I'm just a clown."

He stopped talking, and his mood went dark. He trusted Jenna but wasn't sure he should be telling her what he was thinking. Then he explained how Tina and Jenna's art world was a little intimidating for him. He didn't carry on about it, but he mentioned the many helpings of cold shoulder served by the art snobs of Manhattan.

"The NYU events with students and faculty are okay. I can fit in there, and some of the kids know the band. The alumni, fundraising, and private gallery events are brutal. I hang out with the catering staff."

Jenna shook her head, "Yes, we know you like to flirt with the help. You're really overthinking this. You don't need to fit in, just be there to support her."

"It's how I feel. And sometimes I feel less than. What the fuck is this gorgeous woman doing with a punk like me?"

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Jenna poked him. "She loves you. You should be happy. This is all in your head."

"Someday," Joe pointed at Jen. "Tina will see what I see and dump my sorry ass."