All The Young Punks Pt. 41

After finishing the final tour of 1982 with a rental truck, Joe was back in New York. He had called Tina from the road but didn't tell her the entire tale of the Minnow. When he returned, she asked how much repairs would cost.

'Oh shit. She doesn't know,' he thought. He shrugged.

"When are you going back to get her?" Tina pressed him.

He played dumb. "What do you mean?"

"You're gonna fix The Minnow, right?"

Joe stared at her, emotionless. Tina's mental wheels turned, and then sadness came over her, genuine hurt. Joe knew the face. He reached out and pulled her close.

"Sorry, I guess I should have told you. We sold her to the mechanic for $550."

T moved Joe to arm's length and looked him in the eyes. "I cannot believe you left The Minnow behind! How could you?" Her eyes were dead serious.

"Are you fucking with me?" Joe said. "You're breaking my balls, right?"

"No, Joe. I love The Minnow. Everyone loves The Minnow. We're supposed to take your sisters camping next summer." Her body went rigid. "You promised. How could you sell her?" Tears welled in her eyes.

"I loved The Minnow as much as anyone," He said calmly while hugging her. "but in the circumstances we were in, I had to make a pragmatic business decision."

She pulled away. "Everything is a transaction to you."

"What does that mean?"

"You don't make a move until you know all the angles." She wiped a tear with her sleeve. "Everything is calculated. It can make you cold."

Joe was not shocked that the loss of the Minnow upset her. The fact she judged him for the choice troubled him. "I had to make a hard decision in the dead of winter, stranded in Beaver Shit, Pennsylvania. Deal with it."

They did not have sex that night.

Their little Winnebago Brave had served them well. Joe was as upset as Tina, but not emotionally. He was looking ahead, concerned with the band's next tour, starting the day after his birthday. They had the holiday break to deal with their transportation problem, but Joe had no clue what he was going to do.

--- JUST A COINCIDENCE ---

Joe popped into the Abrams Agency early on his second day in town. He had already phoned in the bad news. Laura got on it immediately, finding a rental truck company in Pennsylvania. He thanked her for her help, took a seat beside her desk, and told her the sad story of The Minnow's last voyage.

"So you hitched a ride?"

"What else could I do? The next town was eighteen miles away. I made some phone calls, a big tow truck first, and then you. The tow truck guy hauled the RV with the guys jammed in his cab. I didn't even ask the mechanic how much or how long to fix it. She blew a rod and did a lot of damage. It needs a new engine."

"Sheila's worried about the next tour. Ken is looking into transportation options."

"I'm not sure how to respond to that," Joe said. "I want to tell them to mind their own business, but Abrams is my management. Maybe they'll do some good?"

"I can only speak based on what I see, but I think Ken might be okay. He's using his contacts at EIC on this."

"Dare I ask where she is?"

"She and Ken are at a meeting."

"Again?"

"Third one. She's gonna be upset she missed you. She complains that you haven't visited with her in months."

"I like it this way. Keeps her guessing. For now."

"Are you keeping this rental truck all week?"

"We have five gigs in the city. After we return it, Sal and Nate will take the train back."

Joe had become fond of Laura in the relatively short time he knew her. He put a great deal of value in first impressions, and Laura gave him a good vibe from the start. He trusted her. He also felt bad she was demoted.

"I was thinking of giving her hell for replacing you, but I wanted to speak to you first. What do you think?"

"I appreciate the thought. I didn't take a cut in pay or hours, so it's not a big setback. It's also temporary. When we get more bands I'll be back on tours."

"Did she say that?"

"No, Ken did. He doesn't want to run Jada Jones and Ruby Slippers. He ran bigger bands at EIC, theater-level shows.?"

Joe reached into his inside pocket where that card lives. "This guy left me his card a while back. He wants to meet."

"Who's Roger Goodman?"

"He's a former studio exec who moved to EIC and then contacted me. He and I had a bad meeting once."

"Does this mean something?"

"I don't know," Joe took the card back. "but it's odd that two EIC people are suddenly in my orbit."

"That's a huge company and you're in the music business. It's not that remarkable."

"Maybe you're right. I have a meeting with Roger before we go on the road again. I have a hard time believing this is just a coincidence. And what are these meetings she and Ken are taking together?"

"I don't know."

"Aren't you supposed to be my eyes and ears?"

"Joe, she doesn't tell me everything. Honestly, I don't believe Sheila trusts me."

"She doesn't trust anyone, according to her."

"You seem to have trust issues too. I'm betting this EIC thing is just a coincidence."

"Dinner and drinks?"

"What?"

"I'll take that bet. Dinner and drinks."

"It's just a figure of speech, Joe."

"If there's a connection, you buy dinner. If there's not, I take you out."

"I'm sure Tina would love that. I'll pass. No thanks."

"Chicken."

---- MEMORIAL ---

The band played their first show at The Cat Club, only five blocks from NYU, where Joe realized Tommy Galardo might be incorrect. The throng of NYU students made him wonder if these kids would schlep up to Hell's Kitchen in four days when the band plays Tommy Guns to end their NYC run.

The Cat Club was also larger than Tommy's place, charged a higher cover, and that went directly into the band's pocket. It was a good show with a crowd split 50-50. About half the patrons had seen the band before, like Betty and Tomas, while the rest were sideshow virgins.

While wrapping the tour at Tommy Guns, the hard punks, and fans of the band were upset about them losing their beloved Winnebago. Tina whipped up a contingent at Tommy's saying they were monsters for abandoning The Minnow. A few genuinely agreed with her, most played along to bust Joe's balls. He had to defend the band's crime against humanity, on stage, to a packed club.

"It's a fucking RV people. It hurt to leave a band member behind but the show must go on. It was a business decision made unexpectedly in the middle of fucking nowhere in the dead of winter. Get the fuck over it."

The band played the funeral march and had a moment of silence. After a few songs, Joe told the story, giving Sal the credit he deserved.

"We hit the bottom of that hill too hot. When Sal moved onto the shoulder the Minnow created a wave of slush and then she went sideways. Sal fought to keep control, but we hit a snowbank, throwing Nate and Simon down. The tail of the Minnow jerked around. Our ass end was back on the highway, but Sal kept us on the shoulder, slipping and sliding. He straightened her out just as two semis blasted by us. The deep snow stopped the RV. If Sal didn't have control, you'd be playing the funeral march for us."

After the show, Tina hugged Joe. "I didn't know about the harrowing side of the story. Was it that close?"

"When those trucks blew past us, I could feel the woosh inside The Minnow. It was that close."

"I'm gonna buy Sal a beer," she kissed him again. "For saving my baby."

"That's all I'm worth, a beer?"

"Well, I'm not gonna suck his dick."

"You're right," Joe nodded. "A beer is good."

Days before, Joe got the same grief from his sisters when he called home and gave them the news. First, it was whining that he never took them camping as he had promised. Then it was the sadness that The Minnow was gone, abandoned far from home.

On the subway ride home, after Tommy's show and late-night pie and coffee, Tina leaned against Joe. It was a cold night. "Tomorrow we have no plans. There's plenty of food in the house." She reached down between his thighs. "We're staying in, all day."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I'm going to drain you."

"Excuse me?" Joe laughed.

"You heard me."

The next day was spent mostly in bed. They had 3C to themselves. It was a clothing-optional day. Tina did her best to keep her word, getting Joe off morning, afternoon, and evening. Lying in bed after a long day of nothing but food and sex, Joe had a realization.

"I think I would have taken the Minnow's death much harder if I didn't have Ellie."

"That makes sense," Tina said. "But still, the Minnow was your baby."

"No, Ellie is my baby. The Minnow was the fifth punk."

Joe also left his Cadillac behind, in Providence, stored in the garage alongside Tony's cars. Joe didn't want her outdoors during the winter, especially with him on the road. Pops was happy to give Ellie a roof. Joe took the train home to retrieve her.

---- HANUKKAH CHANUKKAH ----

Two days before Christmas, Tina and Joe met Stan for breakfast at his deli. Joe was happy to be having a different meal. Even he could get tired of pastrami. Looking over the menu, he looked up at Stan.

"This French toast," he pointed at the menu. "Is that challa," he punched the CH. "Or hallah?"

"Challa," Stan said flatly, "like there's no C."

"What the fuck is it with you Jews. Hanukkah Chanukah. It's spelled two ways. You use the C but drop the sound. Then you drop the letter and the sound. What's up with that?"

"I don't know," I'm not a goddamn rabbi. "I guess it comes from Hebrew."

"I think you're going to hell for saying goddamn rabbi," Tina smiled while sipping her drink.

"We don't believe in hell," Stan said, "Not an afterlife hell. Our hell is listening to clueless goys talk about shit you know nothing about."

Joe glanced at Tina with a smile. He sipped his coffee. It was early and they already had Stan bitching. This was going to be a good breakfast date.

"Hebrew is not a romance language," Joe said. "That's for sure. It's as bad as German."

"You shouldn't use the words Hebrew and German in the same sentence," Sal said in a low voice. "Not in this place. There are survivors here."

"I don't think I had them in the same sentence."

Tina leaned in and whispered, "We have a German neighbor with a thick accent. Sometimes he speaks German to his boyfriend, and when..."

"His boyfriend?"

"Yeah, Stan," Joe said. "We live in The Village. Half of our neighbors are gay. We have nine apartment units in our building, four are gay couples, and one is a foursome of lesbians. I don't even know who's sleeping with who in 2B."

"Disgusting," Stan grumbled.

"Hey," Joe pointed at the old man. "It's almost 1983. You need to get with the times."

"Anyway," Tina continued. "Our neighbor Dieter is gay and the funniest thing I ever heard was a gay man yelling in German at his boyfriend. German is not smooth, but when they're angry it's really harsh. Now, give that a gay man's voice..." Tina smiled. "It's comedic."

"A very flamboyant German voice," Joe nodded. "It's fucking weird."

Tina smiled. "We love it when they fight."

"And Mike and Dieter always fight," Joe added.

Joe ordered the Challa French toast and Doris refilled drinks. Once they surrendered their menus, he filled Stan in on his meeting.

"Roger wanted me to come to EIC's office at The Rock, and I really wanted to check it out, but I told him I wanted to meet on neutral turf, not Tommy's and not EIC."

"Why wouldn't you take the opportunity to see Rockefeller Center?" Tina asked.

"I didn't want to be seduced." Joe sipped his coffee. "I figure if he's inviting me up to the 20th floor, there's has to be a pitch, and they're going to impress me with how big and fancy they are. I didn't want to deal with that phony corporate bullshit."

"Get to the point," Stan barked. "What did he have to say?"

"We met at McGill's Tavern for lunch. He said no hard feelings over the RCA thing, that he understands my view on masters and publishing, and that he's impressed that we've started our own shop. I let him talk. I didn't utter a word for the first fifteen minutes. He just went on about the business, and how hard it is on the little guy."

Stan was impatient. "What does he want with you, not to reminisce, that's for sure. What's his angle?"

Joe was playing the game he played with his sisters when they were impatient.

"The club sandwich at McGill's is this thick." He held his thumb and forefinger far apart. "I'll go back just for that."

"Did it come with fries?" Tina asked.

"I got the Onion rings."

"Goddamnit," Stan slapped the table. "What did Roger have to say?"

Joe smiled. "His daughter is pregnant again."

Stan glared at Joe. "Not that!"

Tina smiled, delighting in his crankiness. Joe decided to let the old man off the hook.

"He said EIC could get us to the next level. He understands that we've built something but he believes my band will soon outgrow our circuit."

"He wants to represent The Young Punks?" Stan leaned back. "You have management."

"Yeah, a shitty manager who doesn't do anything. Look, I have no intention of signing with EIC, but that's not out of some loyalty to Sheila. She's fucking history the day her contract runs out, January 2nd, 1984."

"You know the date?"

"I'm counting the days," Joe sipped his drink. "Roger wanted to let me know his door is open if we ever decide we want to go to the next level."

"That's it?"

"That's it, and he mentioned that EIC is working with the Abrams Agency to provide a tour bus. He knows Sheila. He didn't say anything about her, good or bad, just that he knew her. Her boy Ken came from EIC and has the inside contacts for a bus."

"You're getting an EIC bus?"

"Apparently. It's just for this next road trip, and we'll see what happens after that."

Stan leaned back to allow Doris room to slide plates in front of them. "It's about time," he complained. "I was getting lightheaded. What was the hold-up?"

Doris glared at him, then his young guests. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Will we get it today?" Stan smirked at Joe.

Doris walked away and the party of three worked on their breakfast for a while before

Joe gave Stan more news.

"WBCN in Boston is playing our new record."

Stan didn't react.

"That's not college radio, Stan. It's the biggest rock station in Boston. WAAF in Worcester is spinning it too. HJY in Providence was first, but that's our hometown. They've been playing Sons of Providence all year." Joe stared at Stan. "We're on commercial radio."

"I get it, and that's good, but those are towns you already play, with a fanbase. You've sold all the records you're going to sell there."

Joe looked at Tina. "Can you believe this guy? Marty hasn't gotten one spin from his radio contacts and you're gonna rain on my happy news with this grumpy Jew bullshit?"

"I'm not raining on anything," Stan said sharply. "I'm stating a fact."

"Well, these stations have stronger signals. Marty seems to think that's a big deal. And they reach way out in the boonies our college stations can't. I think it's progress."

"I'll give you that," Stan said.

"Gee, thanks. This will help the new record. Do you think we should press more vinyl?"

"Don't put the cart before the horse, kid. Let's sell the first 5000 first."

Tina watched Doris at another booth. "Hey, I've been here three times and we always have Doris waiting on us." She looked at Stan. "Is she your favorite or something?"

Joe dribbled coffee on his chin. "Ha! She's the only one who can tolerate him... barely." He looked at Tina pointing at two younger waitresses across the room. "They won't come near this booth, not when Stan is here."

"That's bullshit," Stan grumbled.

Joe leaned in, "That's what Doris told me, and I believe her."

Tina and Joe did the Brooklyn-Providence Christmas marathon for the third straight year arriving in the Theroux house after 4 AM. Jeanie was asleep. They tip-toed through the kitchen and downstairs, got in bed, and managed more than an hour's sleep before she jumped on top of them in Joe's bed.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Jesus!" Joe covered his head. "You don't have to..."

Jeanie's face was two inches from his. "Mom said to come upstairs and make coffee." She turned to T. "Hi, Tina."

"Good morning, Jeanie. Merry Christmas."

They spent four loud, chaotic days in the Theroux house before driving back to NYC for New Year's Eve. Joe wanted to do something he'd never done, just once, to say he did it. They found a bar near Times Square, had a few cocktails, and as the hour neared they made their way through the crush of humanity. Then they got stuck, shoulder to shoulder, back to back, face to face, with thousands of drunk strangers. It was cold, and before the ball dropped Joe had enough.

"Let's get the fuck out of here,"

"Don't you want to see the ball drop?"

"I don't give a fuck. This is stupid."

"Okay," She smiled. "I told you it sucked. You didn't listen. I did it Freshman year and thought I'd never come again."

Joe led Tina by the hand back from where they came. Blocks later, when they cleared the crowd, she pulled him close and kissed him. They stood fifty feet from the crush, partiers walking around them in all directions, arms locked, just kissing.

"I love you," she said, looking up into his eyes. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, T. I love you, too."

Tina pulled on his arm and resumed walking, against the flow of revelers. "Let's go home and fuck in the new year."

--- 1983 ---

It had become a tradition that Joe would be home with Tina for his birthday. His sisters hated this one thing more than any. For years they baked their big brother a cake. It was messy, and the cakes weren't always great, but they enjoyed doing it. Tina blew out his candles on his 22nd birthday and the band would begin a road trip a day later, for the fourth straight year.

When the Minnow went down, Sheila saw an opportunity. She put Ken on the transportation problem. When Joe stopped by to get updated on the next tour, he was very surprised, not by the bus news; he already knew that. He was shocked to find Sheila in the office at 9:15. Secondly, Ken had gone wild on the band's schedule.

"We've never done anything close to forty days on the road. I'm not doing it."

"We need to cover the cost of a tour bus," Sheila said. "That's a big expense you never had before."

"She's right, Joe," Ken said quietly. "These three-week runs you do aren't enough to justify a bus and a driver. We have to keep you out there for at least five weeks, six is better. If you notice, I booked all your big venues."

Joe exhaled. "This is gonna kill me at home. Tina can barely get through three weeks. This is too much."

"Can you at least try it?" Sheila asked.

Joe didn't like it, but after the holiday break and with Tina so busy at VSGG, maybe he could get away with one long tour. He exhaled again.

"Okay." He met their eyes with an intense focus. "I don't like this, but I'm not gonna let all your work go to waste. I'm trying to be fair. We'll do the tour, but I won't do forty days again. Thirty is the max."

"You can't justify a bus on short tours of bars and nightclubs," Sheila noted.

"That's fine. I'll find another RV. I'll have Pops call his guy after we get on the bus for this tour."

Ken and Sheila breathed a sigh of relief as Joe and Laura exchanged eye contact. Sheila put her hand on Joe's arm.

"Can we have a chat in my office, just the two of us?"

Laura smirked, knowing Joe was not interested in chatting with Sheila.

He half rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I suppose."

Joe sat across from Sheila. Her desk was enormous. He watched as she lit a cigarette. Sheila took a drag, blew out the smoke, and leaned back in her chair.

"What happened to us, Joe? Why aren't we friends anymore? You seem to have a problem with me and I'd like to get to the bottom of it."