All The Young Punks Pt. 45

--- OCTOBER 1983 ---

"Where the hell are you?" Tina said when Joe called. "You haven't called in almost a week. When are you coming back?"

"I'm in Memphis."

"What are you doing there?"

"Just checking out Beale Street. When we played here last year it was a quick in-and-out gig. I never got to check out the blues scene."

"You're just hanging around?"

"Yeah. I saw a few bands the last two nights and had some barbeque. This morning I visited Sun Studios. Do you know what that is?

"I don't care about that. When are you coming home?"

"Sun Studios is where Elvis and Johnny Cash got started."

"I said I don't care about that. When are you coming home?"

"I don't know. When I feel like it."

"What's wrong with you? At the first sign of trouble, you just run away. Is that what you do?"

"Ya know, T, I'm enjoying myself out here. If you're gonna rag on me, I won't bother calling." Joe hung up.

He had gone missing for nine days, just driving around, taking in sights that interested him when passing through towns on tour but could not stop. There were hundreds of moments when The Minnow or The Whale drove through a small town or a big city, and Joe wished he could have stopped to check that place out. He was mostly interested in three things, local history, diners and record shops...his addictions.

After he called Tina from Niagara Falls on day three, he drove to western Pennsylvania to visit an old friend. He wanted to check in to see if the mechanic had revived her. Sadly, The Minnow rested on blocks behind the garage, wheels were gone, the windshield was smashed, and the cabinets Reggie in East Providence made were ripped out. The Minnow was being stripped down.

Joe leaned against Ellie's hood, overlooking the bones of dozens of trucks, cars, and RVs. The middle-aged mechanic recognized him and walked out.

"Hey, pal. You're the kid with the Winnebago." He was a man with a perpetual five o'clock shadow and oily hands. He carried a rag, wiping them.

"Yup, that's me," Joe nodded. "I was in the area, more or less, and wanted to see if you rebuilt the engine and maybe..."

"Sorry man. Some guy paid me more for the tires and the rims than I paid you. I had to get my investment back."

"No need to explain. My leaving her here was also a business decision."

"I get it. I remember how fucking miserable that guy was," he couldn't remember. "The eye-talian guy."

"Sal."

"Yeah. He was hot."

"Yeah. He felt you were fucking us."

"Did you?"

"No. I shook your hand." Joe shook his hand again. "Sal was pissed off because he had just put new tires on her, including the spare, and he had the transmission serviced."

"I get it."

Joe took one more look at The Minnow, the Young Punks stickers, and the punk characters he had painted on the side, feeling sad that she'd never go camping again. "I gotta get back on the road."

"Nice Caddy," the mechanic nodded.

"Thanks. Ellie is helping me get over my loss." Joe nodded at the skeleton of his RV.

The mechanic smiled and nodded. "Drive safe, buddy." He slapped the truck of Joe's car as he drove off.

Joe pinballed around the Appalachian States using rural state highways, following the mountains to Asheville, NC. He stayed there for two days because it was a cool town, and for no other reason. Then he took a hard turn west to Memphis.

On day nine he called Tina to tell her he was coming home, but her nagging tone altered his attitude and his route. Instead of returning to NYC, Joe left Memphis and drove home to Providence. The road was peaceful. Driving alone, top-down when possible, his mind was able to process his situation without the distraction of other voices and opinions. Joe found clear-headed serenity on the road. Rolling into Rhode Island on day eleven, he thought, 'Ellie is the best decision I've ever made.'

"Where have you been?" Mom asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Just driving around, thinking, and sightseeing."

"Tina has called five times. Did you two have a fight?"

"Not really, but I had some problems with the band and when I tried to discuss it with her she pissed me off. I decided to hit the road and clear my head."

"Is this what you're going to do every time you have a fight, run from your problems?"

"It's great to be home, Ma," he said while walking away. "I'll be down in my room."

Joe phoned Marty that afternoon. After ten days of road thinking, he felt he had a decent plan to overcome their temporary management problem. When Marty picked up, he had news for Joe.

"Sheila canceled the tour and fired Laura."

"She fired Laura? Why?"

"I guess Laura snapped and said some things."

"Where is she?"

"Laura showed up here the day she was let go. She dropped off a stack of file folders and said she had already contacted our bands to tell them Guerilla Records has cut ties with Abrams and they should come here for future touring. Do you know about this?"

"Yes. I told Laura if the shit hits the fan we would hire her and she could do the same job for our company."

"And you didn't think of telling me this?"

"I didn't think it would happen so fast. I thought when Sheila's contract expires in January we'd be cutting ties and all this would go down. Marty, can you please hire Laura? She's good at what she does and she can be trusted. There's no reason we can't run the tours from Guerilla."

"I told her we would discuss this and I'd get back to her. I needed to confirm what you had told her."

"Think about what she did, Marty. Before she had a guaranteed job, she collected those files, contacted our bands, and set this all in motion. Laura and I have discussed what would happen when Sheila got canned. She knew exactly what to do when things went bad."

"What's your plan?"

"I just told you. Laura is going to run Guerrilla tours. We have eleven bands, most have recorded with you."

"What about Sheila?"

"What the fuck do you care about her? I want to expose her double dipping and sue her. I'd like to put Sheila out of business."

---- REVENGE ----

After a few days hanging out with his sisters, and avoiding the garage, Joe returned to New York. His first stop was Guerilla Records where he explained to his partners what he planned on doing next.

"I'm pissed off at Sal, but I'm not blowing up the band. I think I know what happened. I'll let him sweat for another week before I call."

"Sal's called here twice," Marty said. "He wants to speak to you. He wants to explain himself."

"I don't think he has to. I suspect it was Ken who reached out to him, trying to divide the band and go around me. Sheila has been pushing for longer tours. We've been at odds over this. I doubt Sal would do this himself. He just went along with her power play."

"Marty says you want to sue," Stan said.

"Don't you? Or are you okay with her ripping us off?"

"I'm not against suing Sheila. I just want to know what you expect will come of it."

"First of all, we get our money back. Secondly, we ruin her credibility."

"So, this is a revenge lawsuit?"

"Revenge, justice, call it what you wish."

"The lawyers could cost us more than a judgment. We know exactly how much she's stolen from us. If this drags out in court it could cost us more..."

"I don't care."

"She's already billed us for the west coast trip," Marty slid her invoice across his desk.

Joe looked at the bill, smiled, and looked up at Marty. "Do you have a calculator?"

Marty reached into his desk and handed it to Joe. He began popping in numbers; the days on the road, the daily transportation fee he knew EIC was charging from previous invoices, and a rough estimate on fuel based on past tours. When he poked the last button he looked up at the two older men.

"I won't know for sure until I get my hands on the EIC invoice, but it seems she added seventy-five percent. She's trying for one last cash grab. We have eight invoices. I think we can establish a pattern of abuse."

"That's not what concerns us, Joe," Marty said. "We want to make a wise financial decision for the company. Vengeance is not part of our calculus."

Joe leaned back. He understood his partner's position, but his emotions got in the way of logic. He thought about it for a moment, looked at the largest invoice the Abrams Agency had ever issued, and had an epiphany.

"Hey," His eyes got wide. "What if we stiff her on this last tour? When she pitches a fit and threatens to sue us we can show her what we have, all this evidence."

Stan nodded slightly. "Then she'd have to decide if chasing this last payday is worth the trouble of the counter lawsuit we would file."

"And possible criminal charges," Marty added.

"What she's doing is unethical," Stan said. "But I can't say it's a crime."

"Let me be the one to tell her," Joe said. "I need this. I want to fire her, tell her we're not paying for this last tour, and then walk out. I don't care to see that woman ever again."

"You're a vengeful little shit," Stan said. "But sure, you can deliver the news if that makes you feel better."

Joe smiled devilishly. "I will. I guarantee it."

---- MAKE UP ---

When Tina arrived home from VSGG, she found Joe cooking dinner. She said nothing, knowing the wrong words, or even tone, could push him away. She hugged him.

"Please don't do this again. If we fight, just talk about it."

"You stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. Is that what you mean by talking about it?"

"I'm not trying to start a fight, Joe." She looked him in the eyes. "I love you, and if you love me we should be able to work through these problems. The first thing you do is run, and that's not helping."

"It helps me to get away from the drama. The road eases my mind. I can think clearly when I'm out there."

"Joe, you can't run from the drama you create. It follows you everywhere."

"Oh," he leaned away from her. "You think I created this mess?"

"No, but how you react can make it worse."

Joe turned back to the stove and continued his dinner chore not liking what she said but not caring to make an argument of it.

"Sal called twice. He wants to talk."

"I'll get around to calling Sal when I want, not on his terms."

"He told me this was all Sheila and Ken's doing. Ken called the garage months ago and asked what he thought about longer tours."

"I kinda figured that out. I can't trust Sal, but he's not a schemer. He's not sneaky like that. I assumed Sheila was behind this."

"He's afraid the band is done."

"It's not. I'd like to record our next record. Simon and I have a strong collection of songs. I want to do that, and then we'll see what happens."

"So you're not killing the band?"

"No. I want to run tours out of Guerilla and give us some time to establish that business." He looked up to meet Tina's eyes. "But honestly, I think our days are numbered."

"Oh please," Tina made a doubtful face. "The band is your baby and without The Young Punks could your label even survive?"

"That's why I have to wait. We need our other bands to step up, record more, put in some road time, and then we can see how the numbers look."

When they sat down for dinner. Joe told her about stuff she doesn't care about, the blues scene in Memphis, and a Civil War battlefield he visited, and then Tina had news of her own.

"Gail found a place in Soho. The gallery is a go. She's got investors lined up and I'm taking out a loan that terrifies me. My dad cosigned, but I'm nervous."

"About what?"

"Failure. Do you have any idea how many galleries open and close in the first two years?"

"But you have many supporters, and you're good at what you do."

"I know. Gail is so confident it's easy to get swept up in her enthusiasm, but once those doors open, it's on me to make it work."

"It'll never be all on you," he said. "You'll have Gail and her clique of wealthy old ladies. You'll have Jenna, right? I assume she'll go with you. And you'll have me."

"I'll need you, baby. This is going to be stressful. There's so much to do. I'll need your help."

"I'll do everything I can. When do you think this will happen?"

"Gail thinks we're looking at six to eight months. I'm hoping we'll be open before next summer."

---- REVERSE REVENGE ----

Joe walked into the Abrams Agency midday. There was no receptionist. He entered the big room to find Ken seated at a desk. Ken stood when he saw Joe, but didn't say a word.

"Is she in?"

"No, but she'll be back soon."

"What are you working on? I know it's not a tour for a Guerilla band."

"No. I'm probably done here. Sheila can't afford me if there are no bands."

"But she's not paying you, Ken. You're still on the EIC payroll."

Ken stared at Joe without a reply. Joe imagined he was wondering how he knew this. He took a seat at an empty desk. He stared at Ken. Through his nearly three years of struggling with The Abrams Agency, Joe could never figure out Ken's motivations. He was being paid by EIC to work for Sheila, and while Joe has theories of a future hostile takeover, he never really knew what the deal was between EIC and AA.

"Yeah, I know about that. What I don't know is why you're here if EIC is paying you."

"Because you won't work with EIC."

"What? Aside from Roger Goodman, no one at EIC has ever approached us."

"You're attitudes about the system and corporate management are well known, Joe. David Benjamin knew you would never consider partnering with his company."

"So what? He's got two dozen major acts touring the world and dozens more smaller bands, all bigger than us. Why the fuck does he care about my band?"

The elevator door chime rang. Joe turned to see Sheila entering the big room. She stopped in her tracks, stared at Joe, and walked around them, clearly avoiding close contact, to reach her office. No one spoke a word.

Joe looked at Ken, "I'm here to fire her. I don't know if you're a good guy or a bad guy, Ken. I don't know what your aim was. Guerilla Records is done with Sheila. I guess you'll be back at EIC soon."

Ken nodded without a word. He already knew this.

Joe stood up. "You did a great job on these tours. You and Laura made a good team. It's too bad Sheila fucked it up." Joe walked towards Sheila's office.

"Joe," Ken called in a low voice. Joe turned. Ken stood from his desk and extended his hand. "I'm not the bad guy. I was just doing my job."

Joe shook his hand.

"A lot is going on you don't know about," Ken said, glancing at Sheila's window to the big room. "I hate her," he whispered. "She cannot be trusted. Nobody trusts Sheila, especially at EIC."

Joe nodded. "Good luck, Ken."

"Joe," Ken made intense eye contact. "It's going to get worse before it gets better."

When Joe stood in the doorway of Sheila's too-big office with her huge unnecessary desk. She looked up with a cold expression.

"Can you at least let me grab a cup of coffee before you make a childish scene?"

"There will be no scene," Joe walked in and dropped hard on the easy chair facing her desk. "I'm just here to terminate you. You're fired. Guerilla Records will no longer be sending bands your way."

"Yes. I understand you plan on running tours out of Marty's office."

"We should have done that from the start. Giving you a contract was the biggest mistake I've made with my band."

"About that contract. That is good for another ten weeks. You'll have to pay me my percentage."

"Percentage of what? I'm taking the rest of the year off. You won't make another nickel off my band." He leaned forward. "That's why no other band offered you a contract. I didn't want them to fall into the same trap we did."

"What trap."

"Your greed, and lazy incompetence."

"Well, Joe, I do look out for number one... if that's what you mean." She leaned back in her leather high-backed chair. "You need to look very closely at my contract. It seems your partners did you a disservice in providing that document."

Joe didn't respond. What Ken said moments ago about things getting worse and the smug 'fuck you' expression on Sheila's face concerned him.

Sheila exhaled, "You'll be running tours for The Studs, Gregory Rasputin, The Mad Hatters, and your little bands, but The Young Punks will be touring with EIC. I signed you over to David Benjamin."

"Bullshit. That contract expires in January."

"Not the contract I just signed with EIC." Sheila leaned over her desk with a cold expression. "You need to read the contract you signed. You gave me the power to make deals for goods and services provided by third parties."

"Yeah, transportation and crew."

"No. There are no stipulations and limits set in that contract. While you were running off having a tantrum, I signed you over to EIC. They will be booking your tours for the next year." She leaned back. "And I get a piece of that."

Joe felt his blood pressure creeping up. He had no clue if what she said was accurate, but she seemed very sure of herself. He remained calm, returning her cold stare.

"Remember when you once told me you have trust issues?" Joe asked. "I have this theory that people who cannot trust project their dishonesty and greed onto others. You're a crooked old hag who thinks everyone is out to fuck you because you're always looking out for number one... as you just said."

"Fuck you, you little twerp."

"And your breath smells like an overfull ashtray."

"What are you, seven?"

Joe stood up. "I'll look into our contract and get back to you. If you're correct, I will refuse to tour with EIC. I didn't sign a contract with them. I'll fight it in court."

"You're band will be finished."

Joe shrugged. "We kinda already are. I'll start another band, someday." He stepped toward the door, wanting to say one more thing, but not sure if he should. He turned as he reached the threshold.

"I have all the invoices EIC sent to you. I have the invoices you sent to Guerilla. We know you've been upcharging and double dipping."

"That's for my agency's services."

Joe shook his head. "No. We agreed to a percentage. It's spelled out in the contract addendum Marty and I wrote. That's all you get for any service you provide. The rest is embezzlement or some other crime we will prove in court. I hope you have a good lawyer, and hope they're really fucking expensive."

As he passed Ken's desk, Joe paused for one moment. "Did you know that she was adding fifty percent to every invoice EIC provided and overcharging my band?"

"No." Ken's eyes got wide. "She was doing that?"

Joe nodded, looking through the glass at Sheila.

Ken looked at her, then back at Joe. "Fuck," he shook his head. "I assume she told you what she did."

"Yes," Joe smirked. "We're all in the same boat. It's gonna get worse for her before it gets better."

"I'm sorry, Joe. I'm gonna go tell her I quit. I'm not going down with her sinking ship."

"You don't work for her."

"This was an assignment, Joe. I report directly to David Benjamin. Eventually, you'll need to talk with him."

"Fuck David Benjamin."

--- BACK TO OUR ROOTS ---

Joe cruised north on Interstate 95. The top was up on a rainy autumn day. Simon was riding shotgun. After nearly three weeks, it was time to have a band meeting. Sal had been ringing phones at 3C, Guerilla, and Simon's apartment trying to reach Joe. When Joe was ready, he had Simon relay the message that he and Joe were coming to Providence.

The first thing Joe did after his contemptuous meeting with Sheila was call Stan and Marty into a meeting to inform them of Sheila's machinations. They were as surprised as he was by her desperation play in the eleventh hour. He also informed them that he spilled the beans on her thievery. The senior partners went to work checking the voracity of her claim.

When Joe and Simon walked into the garage the scene had a familiar feeling. Pops was in the kitchen, Sal and Nate at the table. There was pastry and coffee. It was like the godfather meeting Tony had set up trying to broker a peace in the band. It seemed Pops was involved again. Sal didn't give Joe a chance to sit.