All The Young Punks Pt. 45

"You need to know I didn't go behind your back. Ken called here and..."

"You don't have to explain, Sal." Joe interrupted him. "I know what happened. They tried to divide and conquer. Maybe you didn't go behind my back, but you never told me what Ken was up to. You went along with the scheme."

"I didn't know a fucking thing until we had that meeting?" Nate said.

"Bullshit," Sal barked at him. "You knew they wanted longer tours."

"Yeah, but I didn't know you were doing it behind Joe's back." Nate glared at Sal. "You told me it was being discussed, and then we had the meeting."

"I wasn't doing it," Sal said.

Joe shook his head, glanced at Pops, and sat down at the end of the table. Simon took a side chair.

"One thing I've always tried to maintain is band unity," Joe said. "We're not good at that. We've had some serious problems, but on the business side, we worked as one. You fuckers threw that away." He looked at Sal. "You should have told me Ken called. You knew he was working around me. You wanted longer tours. You were okay with their plan. Those are facts you can't deny, so stop with the finger-pointing and look in the mirror, Sal. You're a backstabber."

Joe held his gaze on Sal as Pops took a seat at the opposite end of the table but didn't speak.

"Look," Sal tried to explain. "I just want you to know that I wasn't trying to..."

"I don't care fuck what you weren't trying to do," Joe cut him off. "I care about what you were trying to do, force longer tours regardless of how I felt."

"You force the short tours on us because your girl is...."

"Will you shut up and listen?" Pops barked at his son. "Do you think dragging Joe's personal life into this will help?"

"I do what I'm willing to do," Joe said, "Thirty days. The fact you don't have a life outside this band is not my problem. I have to juggle these priorities, not you. Outside of this band," Joe paused for effect. "You have nothing."

After a moment with no words, Joe lowered his tone. "I'm pissed off, Sal, but I won't blow up the band over this. We have bigger problems than you and Ken scheming."

"I didn't scheme!"

Joe smirked. "Hey, Pops. Is that coffee fresh?"

"Just brewed it, and I got those creme puffs you like."

After Joe poured a coffee and bit into a flakey Italian pastry, he returned to the table and informed the band of the most recent developments, starting with Sheila's EIC connections and Ken being an EIC plant. Then he got into her greedy double-dipping, his final meeting at AA, and the deal she made with EIC. It took a while because Sal and Nate interrupted with questions. Joe had few answers.

"That fucking, bitch," Sal said under his breath.

"What are we gonna do now?" Nate asked.

"First we have to figure out if her play is legit," Joe said. "Marty and Stan are working on it. They're looking at our contract with her and talking to lawyers. I'll be meeting with them when I get back."

"What if it is?" Sal asked.

Joe shrugged, "I have no intention of touring for David Benjamin."

"Who's David Benjamin?"

"The guy who owns EIC. For some reason, he wants our band, or our company, maybe both."

"Why?"

"Because that's what greedy corporations do, they acquire or crush the little guy." Joe took a sip of coffee. "I do have one idea that might keep us going while we sort this out."

"It's not a great plan," Simon noted.

"It's just an idea," Joe said. "I say we go back to our roots. Apparently, we have to play a hundred and twenty-five shows for EIC. For a date to count against that number, it must meet their standards, like the size of the venue. They cannot stop us from booking gigs at our clubs and they can't take a piece of that if it doesn't meet their criteria."

"So you want to go back and play bars?" Nate asked.

"Just temporarily. We can rent a cargo van and play our larger clubs and the factory gigs. We have seven bars in the city. We can hang there and play those until the attorneys sort this out."

"Wouldn't Sheila get her cut?"

"Yeah, she would, and at first I said I was taking the rest of the year off, but now I want to play some dates just to show her and David Benjamin that we're okay playing in the minor leagues."

"Are we?" Simon asked.

"For now," Joe said. "We have to show them we have band unity and were together on this. If we're out there doing the job, they'll see that."

--- GUERILLA TOURS ---

Joe walked into Guerilla Studios to find their first official company employee seated behind a modest Steelcase desk in a spartan office across from Marty's. Laura had been on the job for three days. Her first assignment was to contact all the venues in the network.

"I spoke to every owner or club manager and told them we have cut ties with The Abrams Agency. We are not in business with EIC. Only Guerilla Records represents our talent."

"How did that go?"

"Great for your venues, not so good for Ken's theaters."

"Why would you call them?"

"I only contacted a few. You can't go back to nightclubs, Joe. Your band is too big. I thought we should reach out to the theaters you played to see if..."

"But they're part of EIC's system," Joe nodded.

"Exactly. The three I called were not interested in what I had to say."

"Well. At least we know where we stand."

"What should I do? Gregory Rasputin and The Blasters are on tour right now. When they get back next week, that's the last of the Abrams booked tours."

"Start planning new tours for anyone that wants to go out. Nothing has changed for them. They're all club acts. Only my band has the theater problem."

"Okay. So, no Young Punks planning?"

"Nope, but get everyone else out there earning... if that's what they want. Don't push. Let the bands decide."

Since his last meeting with the partners, Marty and Stan had done some digging, took meetings, and made phone calls, including consultations with attorneys. Joe was in the office to find out what they learned.

"I want you to sit in on this meeting," he said to Laura. "Come with me."

They crowded around Marty's desk. Joe sensed from the men's expressions that their news would not be good.

Stan exhaled. "The contract Irving provided was very basic. Because it doesn't specify precisely what her limitations are, it could be interpreted as giving Sheila the power to sign deals for all manner of services."

"Even extending beyond the date of her contract?"

"According to Irving, if she signed that deal on her last day, it would be legitimate."

"Who the fuck is this guy Irving? I thought he knew what the fuck he was doing?"

"He does, Joe. Irv has been in the business for over forty years. He told us to amend the contract as needed, and we did, but not on this clause. It's too vague and she took advantage of that."

"Are you saying we are contractually obligated to tour with EIC for a year?"

"No. They signed based on a number of shows that meet specific criteria. You must do a hundred and twenty-five theater dates with them."

Marty looked at Joe. "I contacted EIC and explained our position. They expect us to honor the deal. If you don't, they will file suit for breach of contract."

"Fuck." Joe lowered his head.

"Can you challenge them in court?" Laura asked. "Joe didn't sign that deal and Sheila is no longer..."

"I've run this by two other industry lawyers," Stan glanced at Joe. "Not named Irving. They both believe we're contractually tied to EIC."

"David Benjamin would like to meet with you, Joe," Marty said. "He'd like to work this out and get your band on the road."

"What if there is no band?" Joe said. "If The Young Punks cease to exist, is EIC shit out of luck?"

"You would end your band out of spite?" Stan asked.

Joe shrugged. "I'm not touring with EIC."

"This is business, kid. You have to be reasonable. They will have an answer to any move you make, and that will involve attorneys. If we go up against a giant like EIC, they'll bury us in legal fees and drawn-out lawsuits."

"There's your hostile takeover," Marty said. "They'll kill Guerilla and wash their hands of us. Everything you've built will be gone."

--- WHITE RIOT ---

Laura had said something that sat in the back of Joe's mind, "You can't go back. The band is too big." He didn't believe that, but it was on his mind. He chose to book six of their largest venues and requested they be ticketed events. Joe needed to know if this was doable.

They arrived at Gravesend in their rented cargo van to find a throng of fans waiting outside. The guys exchanged glances. When the punk horde approached the van, Sal drove around them to the back of the warehouse. Joe ran inside to ask Eddie Bags to open his bay door so they could unload. When he walked in, there were hundreds of fans inside.

"I had to lock the front door because they were fighting to get in," Eddie said.

"Fighting. Don't they have tickets?"

"They do," he pointed at the punks indoors. "Outside, it's a mix. The assholes without are making it hard to maintain order."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Lonnie is on his way with some muscle. When they get here we'll start taking tickets again."

"I'm sorry, Bags. I didn't think it would be this...'

"It's the price of success, kid. You just can't show up and play like you used to. The bigger you get the more complicated life gets."

"We're not the Rolling Stones."

"And I'm not Madison Square Garden. It's all relative."

When Lonnie's Samoan security team appeared, they maintained order. Ticket holders were able to get inside while the muscle kept the ticketless away from the door.

Guerilla Records had printed the number of tickets the fire marshall permitted in the warehouse club, 988. Eddie routinely packed in well over a thousand, but Joe played this by the book. The show was one of the best the band had played at Gravesend, the sight of a few bad performances.

"I had to do something I've never done before," Eddie said at the bar while the band did their beer and chaser after the show. "I had to call NYPD. Some assholes started banging on parked cars when they couldn't get in. They smashed two windshields."

"What did the cops do?"

"They roughed up some punks and arrested four of them."

"I love punks," Joe said. "You know that, but they're not all cool. Some of them don't give a fuck. They think every business is part of the system keeping them down, even you." He gestured to Eddie. "And us."

"They hate that we had tickets."

Joe shrugged. "Tough shit."

At the Navy Yard, the band had a similar experience. The venue sold 1220 tickets, the ticketless showed up, and security handled it. Philadelphia police arrested seven people after club security called them to handle punks throwing bottles at them. Punks fought punks and punks fought cops. Despite these minor security issues, Joe felt pretty good about his temporary business plan, Boston would change that.

"Do not leave the building," Joe shouted over this mic halfway through the band's first set. "Boston Police are out there cracking heads."

When Rick Davis opened his doors at The Brickyard, most of his 810 ticketholders were lined up and entered in an orderly manner. As showtime neared, several dozen ticketless fans began causing trouble. Security locked the front door, which is against fire safety rules. When ticketed fans arrived late, unable to get in, they were assaulted by a group of men, and robbed of their tickets and cash. Boston Police arrived after the show began. Someone threw a brick, breaking a police cruiser's windshield. Back up was called and all hell broke loose.

Inside the club, the band played on, unaware of the mayhem outside, until Rick approached the stage and instructed Joe to keep everyone inside. Joe's announcement did not dissuade everyone to stay safe, several fans went out to check out the scene and found themselves in the middle of a riot.

The band played on, until set break.

"Listen," Joe pleaded with fans. "We can't stop you from leaving, but there's a riot outside that door and no one can assure your safety."

A Boston police sergeant entered the building, bloodied, and ordered Rick to shut down the show.

"Are you crazy?" Rick said. "You want to add eight hundred pissed-off patrons to that scene?"

The cop stared at him, "Okay. Keep them inside."

"Give me two uniforms."

Five minutes later, two cops stood inside with Brickyard security not allowing anyone to leave while the BPD riot squad put an end to the melee. Seventeen arrests were made. Nine were transported to the hospital, including two police officers. By the time the show ended, peace was restored. As they were leaving some fans found smashed windows and damaged cars.

Joe sat with Rick at the bar after the show. "I'm sorry, Rick. After Philly, I should have canceled. This was the smallest of the three gigs and we have more fans here. I should have seen it coming."

"It's not my first riot, Joe. We had one a few years back when J Geils did a warm-up show here."

"I heard about that."

"Peter said they wanted to play a free gig for the hometown fans before they launched their national tour. Too many people showed up."

"I think we're done," Joe said. "I can't risk people getting hurt. It's so ridiculous. We're not that big."

"It doesn't seem real, right? You can't believe anyone would start a brawl over your band... yet here we are. You're dealing with Southie punks. They're the worst."

Joe canceled three shows he had planned in other industrial venues and returned to New York.

He popped in at Tommy Guns to catch up with the hard punks. It troubled Joe that the band hadn't played there since late last year. He had recently booked shows at his NYC bars for December thinking he could get some shows in while staying at 3C. Now he was having doubts. He sat at the bar discussing his dilemma.

"I just canceled shows in Springfield, Rochester, and Buffalo. Those are big rooms, but I can't be sure it'll be safe. I don't think playing small bars will work." He looked at Tommy. "I think I need to call off our city gigs."

Zip laughed, "This isn't Boston or Philly. The punks here don't give a fuck. It's New York and you're not The Clash. With all due respect, we are not rioting for a middling band like you guys."

"I can feel the respect, Zip." Joe raised his beer glass. "Thanks."

"I think he's right," Jett said. "We love you, but we're not gonna start a riot."

"If it's okay with Tommy," Clyde added. "Play your gig here and see how it goes. Don't promote it. Just show up and play."

Joe looked at Tommy.

Tommy shrugged. "He might be right. We haven't announced the date. I can bring in some extra goons. If you want, I'll give it a shot."

"Are you sure?"

"Look at it this way. Outside of the college kids, these small bars don't get a lot of people from outside the neighborhood. If you keep it on the down low, it'll probably be okay."

----- MAN OF THE HOUSE ----

With his temporary tour plan thwarted by his band's popularity, Joe decided to push their studio schedule up three weeks and put this idle time to good use recording the next album. Sal and Nate returned to the city. The band spent five days in the studio live recording more than twenty new songs.

Tina loved the idea of having Joe home for the remainder of the year. He was cooking meals and bringing her lunch at VSGG, dining together in her office. They did happy hours with Jenna and had dinner with her parents at Vince Torrios.

Doing dishes after a meal with Jenna as a guest, Tina kissed him. "I could get used to this, you being the man of the house. We feel like a real couple."

"We've been a real couple for four years."

"You know what I mean."

"She's jealous of the wives who have boring nine-to-five husbands," Jenna said. "But I don't think she'd be happy with an ordinary nine-to-five man?"

"I just like having you home."

The following morning, after a long workout between the sheets, Tina slapped his belly. "C'mon. Let's get out. I'm hungry. I have a plan for the day." They got dressed and hit the street. These were Tina's favorite days, no work, no stress, and she had her man for the day.

"Joe!" a voice called out. "Joe Theroux!"

Joe and Tina turned to see a tall, attractive black woman coming in fast. Her arms were extended, demanding an embrace. Joe glanced briefly at Tina and then let a stranger's warmth take him in.

"Do you live here now? I've heard so many things about the band. I'm so sorry about Johnny. When I first heard you on the radio I screamed." She leaned back to meet his eyes. "Joe, I was so upset when I missed your show in Atlanta. Where do you play in the city? I just got here and don't know where to go." Angie finally took a breath, smiling wide, the sun shining off her radiant face. Once again, Joe was in awe of her. He knew what the next move was.

"Angie. This is Tina, my girl in The Village. Tina, this is Angie. She's one of our biggest fans from Providence."

"I'm one of his biggest fans," she punched the word 'his', and smiled at Tina. "Those other knuckleheads were just..."

"Hey now!" Joe put a hand up. "Don't shit on my band."

"Sorry." Angie made a cute face and turned back to Tina. "Did he say you were his girl?"

Tina had not yet processed the information that had just assaulted her on a nice Sunday morning walk in The West Village. They were on their way to lunch. Tina had planned a day in the city, lunch, a museum, and maybe a couple of parks. Now an intruder was hugging her man, and she was gorgeous..

"Yes," Tina smiled. "He's my guy."

She stepped closer to T and leaned against her. Put her arm around Tina's back, and pulled her in. Angie's lips were an inch from Tina's ear.

"You're a lucky girl. Hang on to this one."

Threat averted. Tina smiled. "And who are you?"

"Angie is a RISD grad who was a regular at our shows and at the garage," Joe explained. "She's an artsy chick, like you." He turned to Angie. "Tina is an NYU art major."

"That's so cool," Angie said, then made a sad face. "NYU rejected me."

"I applied to RISD," Tina said, "but I couldn't leave New York."

"What are you guys doing?" Angie asked.

"We're going to The Pink Tea Cup for lunch," Joe said.

Angie scrunched her nose, looking to Tina for permission. "Can I walk with... just for a bit? I'd like to catch up. I haven't seen Joe in years."

Tina nodded. "Sure, we have no plans, not yet."

"So," Angie said as they continued walking. "I can't believe how big you guys have gotten. I'm sorry," she touched Joe's arm. "I always knew you'd make it. And now you have. What happened to Johnny?"

"I'm not going to tell you the story," Joe said. "He's gone. Heroin. We fucked it all up here in New York."

"I'm sorry," Angie said. Then she rambled for a block about how she misses Providence, telling Tina how the garage was the coolest place to be in 1979. Joe just let Angie go. Tina was taken aback by Angie's exuberance. They waited for a light, then crossed the street, Angie talking the whole time.

As they walked under the famous Washington Square arch, "Hang on," Joe said, pulling Tina closer and kissing her gently. Then he turned to Angie. "We always kiss under the arch."

She smiled and looked at T, "He's a romantic."

Joe answered a question Angie had asked earlier. "We just played Tommy Guns in Hell's Kitchen Friday night. We have a show in Queens on Wednesday and on Friday we're playing The Cat Club." He pointed north. "It's not far, on Thirteenth. You should come out and see us."

"So it's all worked out, the band is okay?"

"Yes, but not so much for Johnny."

"I'm so sorry," Angie said. "I had heard rumors but not from anyone close to the band, so I wasn't sure what to believe."

Joe was walking in the middle, holding Tina's hand. Angie stopped for one step to let them move ahead, slipped behind Joe, and went to Tina's right to put T in the middle. She leaned against Tina, bending down a bit because Angie was taller. "Do you have any idea how talented and creative your man is? I'm sure you do. I just had to say it. He's a natural-born performer."