All The Young Punks Pt. 50

--- SEPTEMBER 1984 ---

When the UK leg of the tour ended, the band crossed the channel for two shows in Paris where they had four days in the city of lights. The road beyond Paris was long with few days off. EIC was not pleased with ticket sales. They requested that Joe do additional promotional events. Maya was the unfortunate deliverer of this request.

Joe laughed, "They cannot be serious. I told them these theaters were too large." He stared at Maya. "This was avoidable."

"I suspected I would get an I told you so reply," Maya said. "I'm aware of your reservations. Will you do these television spots?"

"That sounds like an awful idea. I don't speak the language. Is this coming from David?"

"No, but he agrees."

"Sorry, Maya. I hate to make your job more difficult, but I have other plans."

"I promise it won't take long."

"That's not the issue. I'm simply not interested in saving David's ass." Joe then changed the subject. "Tomorrow I'm going to The Louvre. Since your job is to make my trip more comfortable. I'd like you to join me so I'm not sad and alone."

"I cannot spend my day at a museum."

"That's a shame," he smirked. "It seems I have a better job than you. It's flexible."

"Why are you sad and alone?"

Joe made a 'really' face.

"Tina?"

"Yeah. I enjoyed the museums and castles in your country, but they also make me sad because I think of how much she would love them. The parks too. We did parks and museums all the time."

"I'll make a deal with you. If you do the TV spots today, I'll give you a day at The Louvre."

Joe laughed. "Nice try, but no. I'm not going on television."

Leaving Paris, the band had a new bus, The Euro Whale, and a new driver. Klaus was a serious German gentleman who seemed incapable of smiling. The first few days with him were awkward.

In Amsterdam, a week after her request, Maya confronted Joe at a cafe across from a canal. "Did you ask David to give me more freedom in my duties?"

Joe smiled, expecting this conversation. "I did not say duties. I said more professional freedom." Joe gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Please, join me. I'd like to discuss this."

Maya sat, demonstrably annoyed.

"He called me about the TV spots, Joe explained, "Right after you offered me a day at The Louvre. I wondered how much autonomy you have on the job. I asked David to allow you the freedom to decide how you might accompany me on this tour." Joe gestured to the cafe surroundings. "Like having coffee with me to discuss the day's business."

"You told him I was rigid."

"No. I said EIC was rigid and I'd prefer if you all loosen up a little." Joe motioned to a waitress. "Please, have coffee and a pastry with me," He sipped his coffee. "Or your Earl Gray. That would make my day more comfortable."

Their server arrived. Maya begrudgingly ordered a coffee and pastry. Joe ordered another coffee.

Maya exhaled. "What did you say to David about the TV spots? I hope you didn't antagonize him further."

"I said I was not comfortable being on television in a foreign country."

"Are you afraid to appear on the telly, Joe?"

"Yes. I am because I don't speak the native language."

"You do realize that unlike America most people here are multilingual, yes? English is often the second language."

"Yes. I know people here are smarter than a dumb punk like me."

"I didn't say that."

Joe smirked while sipping coffee. He was attempting to break through Maya's professional armor. He was playing the long game; drinks in Oxford, then Glasgow, now coffee in Amsterdam. He hoped she might someday go sightseeing with him. After three weeks, his solo tourism was becoming a lonely endeavor.

"Relax," he said. "Not you, everyone. The shows have been great, ticket sales are what they are. Don't worry yourself about this tour. It's happening and I'm doing the job."

Joe watched her shoulders and face relax. She hung her huge I-mean-business purse on the adjacent metal cafe chair and leaned back. Maya liked Joe, but her EIC programming caused her to view him as potentially dangerous.

"Have you met our new driver?"

"Yes," Maya said. "I know Klaus from other tours."

"He's not very friendly."

"We're also here to do the job, and not as your bloody sidekicks."

Joe winced, "Ouch. That hurts. I'm not asking for a traveling buddy, just a little less rigid, British formality."

"We're not rigid."

"I'm not convinced. You'll have to prove it."

As they enjoyed coffee and pastry on a beautiful, sunny autumn morning, Joe felt this conversation was a step in the right direction, a small victory. A half-hour later, as he paid the tab and stood to leave, he made a promise to his personal concierge.

"If you'll have coffee with me every day to go over the itinerary, I promise to be nothing but professional and courteous. I have no other intentions."

"I cannot do this every day. I often have EIC meetings in the morning."

"Whenever you're free would be enough for me."

After Amsterdam, they met often for morning coffee. Joe would tell her of his sightseeing plans for the day, hoping she might someday join him. Maya kept him updated on the next show, ticket sales, any problems at the venue, and what lies ahead on the road. On occasion, they would discuss personal matters. In Stockholm, over a breakfast of smoked fish, fruit, and bread, Joe learned Maya had recently turned thirty.

"When?"

"Back in Leeds, September 13th."

"You should have told me. I would have celebrated with you."

"I didn't celebrate. Thirty is hard."

"Are you feeling old?"

"Not at all. It's just one of those milestones that makes you reflect. Where did my twenties go?"

"You gave them to David Benjamin."

Maya sighed. "I know, and I'm not sure I can give him many more. I've been stuck in this position for more than two years and I can't see the next rung on the ladder."

"Are you considering leaving your job?"

Maya nodded. "After this tour, I have a month off. I'll be doing some soul-searching."

.

.

--- POSTCARDS ---

Joe phoned home from Warsaw. It was his third call of the trip. He felt bad that he hadn't called more, but he figured the postcards covered that. Mom answered. After a short talk, with him assuring her he was doing great, she passed the phone to Jeanie.

"The London postcards came on the day you called from Paris," she said excitedly. "Like six arrived on the same day."

"Yeah, I mailed a bunch at once. I try to not do that but sometimes they pile up."

"I've been getting them every few days now. They're so cool. I wish I could see Amsterdam. It looks beautiful."

"It is. I wish we had more time there. These in-and-out shows are hard. I only get one day in the city and have to be at the theater by six."

"What's your favorite so far?"

"Let me get back to you on that. We're not halfway done yet."

"Where are you now?"

"Poland. It's a little drab. Soviet architecture sucks, but the people here are very nice."

Jackie took the phone pass and didn't waste a second on small talk. She had one thing on her mind and got straight to the point, as she often did.

"Have you spoken to Tina?"

"No. Why would I?"

"You haven't called her?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Because you still love her."

"She doesn't love me and I'm done being her whipping boy."

There was a moment of silence on her end. "How are you, brother? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Joe lied. "I don't think about her that much. Sometimes I do, but I'm too busy working and sightseeing. I wish I could see more than the highways and city centers."

"I'm worried about you."

"Don't be. I have a beautiful personal concierge who keeps me company."

"That Maya chick you told me about?"

"Yes."

"Are you on the rebound?"

"Not at all," Joe said softly. "I haven't done anything like that. I'm just here for the job. Maya is gorgeous and smart, and she's cool, and it's all very professional."

"Are you telling me you've been with no women over there?"

"Yes. And that's the truth."

"So you're still hoping Tina will be waiting for you?"

"Maybe I'm a fool, but if she is, I'd like to say I was thinking about her and not fucking my way across Europe."

"Jeanie and Jules love your postcards. There are so many."

"What about you?"

"I like them because I know you're thinking about us."

Joe did lie about how much he was thinking of Tina. He wasn't obsessing, but every city gave him moments where he wished she could see what he was seeing. He had a few late-night drunks, feeling sorry for himself, as his mind went back to better times, and then the worst summer of his life. All that was over, but the memories and pain lingered under the surface.

.

.

--- COLD AS ICE ---

"Are you okay, man?" Simon placed his hand on Joe's shoulder as he was about to board the bus after the Warsaw show. "Those girls want to hang out, and they're very nice."

Joe stopped and turned, one foot on the first step. "No. I'm not partying. Look, Si. I'm sorry if my bowing out fucks your chances, but I don't feel like playing the platonic nice guy anymore."

Simon leaned in, "Then pick a bird and give her a good rogering."

Joe exhaled, "I don't know why, but I don't feel like that's what I need." Joe nodded. "Don't get me wrong. I need it, but not..."

"Not a one-nighter," Simon finished the line.

"I'm sorry, man," Joe stepped on the bus, nodded at Klaus, and retired to his bunk.

Joe's Euro Tour was very much like his US bus tours. His bandmates were entertaining young ladies on the bus after most shows. If not, they were drinking in bars. On a few occasions, they went back to the apartments of strange women. Joe had withdrawn entirely from the post-show activity. In the past, he'd be social, meet young women, and be a good host on The Whale. The girl-back-home excuse was history, but for reasons he could not explain, Joe did not care to march in Nate and Sal's pussy parade on the Euro Whale.

Weeks ago, on the UK Whale, after the New Castle show, Sal gave his opinion on Joe's road celibacy.

"That chick is amazing." Sal pointed back. "Look at those legs. They don't end. What the fuck is wrong with you?" He stared at Joe in disbelief after he had declined an invitation to a very attractive older woman's flat.

"First of all, she's drunk as fuck," Joe said, his eyes expressing his annoyance. "I don't do drunk chicks. And secondly, mind your own fucking business!"

In Rotterdam, after giving three gorgeous girls a tour of the bus, Joe showed them off the Euro Whale and said goodnight. Sal and Nate stood in disbelief, jaws open.

"Is this how it's going to be for the whole fucking tour?" Nate asked.

"I don't know," Joe said. "I'm not stopping you. Go get them. I'm calling it a night."

"Have you gone gay on us?" Sal laughed. "You were pretty friendly with Trevor at that bar in Brussels. Maybe you switched sides."

Joe glared at Sal, and Nate, and then met Klaus' eyes. He wasn't comfortable with the German. He suspected all EIC people reported back to the suits.

"Sal, go fuck yourself." He pointed outside. "Go see if those girls will come back for you. I'd like to watch you go down in flames."

"I'll tell ya this," Sal said. "If you're saving yourself because you think Tina is waiting for you, you're a fucking idiot. She dumped you. You have a free pass, even if she's there when you get back."

Nate nodded, "You can have your cake and eat it too."

Joe said nothing. He turned and went to his room. Simon reached out again as the bus rolled into Germany from Poland. He knocked on Joe's cabin door.

"Who is it? Joe asked.

"The Limey cunt."

Joe smiled behind his door, "C'mon in, Si."

"What are you doing?" Si asked as he walked in.

Joe looked up from his Butterscotch Tele. "What does it look like?"

"Are you writing or just fucking around?"

Joe shrugged. "Do you think it's weird that I visit cathedrals? I mean that's what tourists do, but I hate what they stand for."

"What do they stand for?"

"The grand illusion. Look at the lengths men have gone to create this myth. They construct magnificent monuments to dupe the poor masses. Every one of them is built by man yet they have people believing it's a house of God."

"You like the architecture," Simon said. "So what? You don't need faith to appreciate what man built."

"I just hate how they're used to control people."

"I didn't pop on for a church chat," Simon said, taking a seat at the end of Joe's bed. "Aside from Tina, is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because you're in your hidey hole again. You barely speak to Sal and Nate. You spend most of your time in here or you're off by your lonesome looking at touristy shit."

"Yeah, stuff that interests me but not you jamokes. Honestly, I get Sal and Nate not liking museums, but you have a little class and an education. I would think you..."

"They're too staid for my taste, so dry and proper. Museums and galleries remind me of my family and all the conservatory crap I suffered through."

"That's some dumb shit."

Simon shrugged, "You have your dumb shit and I have mine. I'm worried about you. You've withdrawn from the band. This is like your solo tour."

"I've always been a loner, Si. Maybe you never met this side of me, being on a crowded bus and all."

"Oh no, I know loner Joe, always with his face on a page, reading or writing. This is different."

"How so?"

"You're cold. The other day you walked on the bus, gave us that dumb nod you do, never said a bloody word, and locked yourself in here. You take your meals alone or with this Maya bird. It's like you don't care to spend any time with us."

Joe placed his guitar behind him on the bed and leaned back against his pillows. He was contemplating whether he should tell Simon what he was thinking over the past month.

"I'm not cold. I'm just keeping to myself. Sal is on my last nerve. I'm avoiding confrontation."

"You're cold as ice, mate. So cold you can't feel it."

Joe exhaled. "Okay, you want to hear it?" He made intense eye contact. "Are you sure?

Simon nodded.

"I think this is the end."

"The end of what?"

"This band."

"Are you fucking kidding me? We're touring Europe."

"Yeah, and this is as far as The Young Punks are going."

Simon waved a dismissive hand. "Bullocks. This is about T. When you get back home you'll kiss and make up and all will be happy in your little wonderland again."

"I don't know about that, Si. That's not what I'm feeling."

Simon exhaled and put his hand on Joe's leg. "Don't make any hasty decisions. Take some time."

As Simon was leaving, Joe had one thing to add. "I've had nothing but time, Si. While you guys chase girls I'm living up here." He pointed to his temple.

.

.

--- HOGAN'S HEROES ---

The band had two shows in Paris because the first sold out and EIC tagged on another. After that, in Brussels, Rotterdam, and Amsterdam, they played theaters with roughly a quarter of the seats empty. After selling out a theater in Hamburg, they played Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Helsinki with more than a third of the tickets unsold.

In West Berlin, during a morning meeting over breakfast, Joe expressed his feelings about underperforming at the box office, the term Maya had used in every city that fell short of corporate expectations.

"I know you deal with a lot of egos," he said, sipping strong coffee. "And I have an ego too, but not over this shit. I feel selling 2000 tickets in a European city is good for us. It's not my fault David overstated my band's popularity. They should not have booked 3000 seaters."

"Okay," Maya put a hand up. "You can stop with that. Yes, we all know you predicted this. The good news is that the Germans are fans. Hamburg was outstanding and we have nine more shows here. Five have sold out. The others are close."

Joe didn't reply. He drank coffee looking into Maya's big, beautiful brown eyes. He was into this chick. She was smashing as the Brits say; fit, attractive, intelligent, and hard-working. He sensed she was sweet and passionate, but he didn't think he'd get close enough to know. He was on his best professional behavior.

"What's wrong?" She asked. "After the last four cities, I thought you'd be pleased to know you have fans in Europe."

"Hey, we almost sold out Warsaw."

"It was the smallest venue of the tour so far," Maya replied, then looked at Joe with a curious stare. "Are you pleased with sellouts, or disappointed? I honestly can't tell."

"Both. I want to think we're liked over here, but also, fuck David Benjamin." Joe leaned in. "Maya, I've met our fans in every city. I just don't give a fuck about EIC's problems. Empty seats help my cause."

"You're fine with this tour failing?"

"No. And It's not failing," Joe smirked. "But I'm cool with underperforming at the gate. Our fans will find us."

"I don't understand your bad attitude."`

"What's not to understand? You know how I got here, and you believe what David did was wrong. Are you aware that we're getting paid a flat rate? Ticket sales don't affect me. I get paid the same. I don't want to save the tour and I don't want us to tank either. I would like David to regret this ambitious tour and walk away from us."

Since Paris, the band and Klaus, the serious bus driver, had nearly two weeks to become acquainted. Joe was disappointed their German companion didn't have more personality. He was like Dale and Chuck last year, strictly business and no fun at all. With the band in Klaus' country, Joe would try again.

"So, Klaus. We're in the fatherland. Where are you from?"

"Cologne."

"We'll be there next week. Are you excited to go home?"

"It will be nice to see my wife and daughters for two days."

"That's right. We have an off day there. How old are your children?"

"Anna is twenty and Sonya is eighteen."

"Perfect," Sal said from the lounge sofa behind Klaus.

"Ignore him," Joe said. "What kind of music do they like?"

"Terrible music."

"Is that a backhanded way of telling me they like our music?"

Klaus didn't reply. Unlike Larry, Klaus didn't look in the mirror when Sal chimed in. He had both eyes on the road at all times. Joe had tried to engage him in conversation nearly every day. Each attempt faded as Klaus failed to pull his weight. Between West Berlin and Bremen, Joe tried a different angle. He enlisted the band to help break the German.

"Colonel Klink is such a dummkopf," Joe laughed. "How did he even get the job of commandant?"

"I don't know," Simon said. "Maybe they sent the best Nazis to the Russian front."

"I thought that's where they sent the shitty Nazis," Sal noted. "General Burkhalter always threatened Klink with the Russian front."

"How the fuck did the POWs dig all those tunnels right under their noses?" Nate asked, his eyes on the mirror to see if Klaus was taking the bait.

"Because Shultz," Joe said loudly. "I see nutting!"

Joe was also watching the mirror as the band went on to recall specific episodes of one of their favorite sitcoms growing up. He didn't know if Germans were aware of Hogan's Heroes, but he soon got his answer.

"What was Klink's secretary's name?" Sal asked.

"She was one hot fraulein," Joe said. "Was it Helga or Hilda?"

"I think it was both," Nate said.

The German broke in a harsh tone. "Do you idiots know Hogan is a stupid American comedy? That is not reality. Do you think Germans are that incompetent?" He glared through the mirror. "You cannot be this stupid!"

"Well," Simon said, "They were dumb enough to think they could conquer the world."

"They almost did!" Klaus barked.

"Not even close!" Joe practically shouted. "Did you serve Hitler? It sounds like you're proudly German." Joe paused. "No, you're not old enough."