All The Young Punks Pt. 50

"I was ten years old when the war ended. I remember the bombs you dropped on my city."

"Hey now!" Sal said. "Let's not pretend you're the fucking victims. The Fuhrer started that shit."

"And you didn't conquer Britain," Simon added. "And you never would have."

Joe put a hand up, signaling to the band that the game was over. He could see Klaus' red face. He didn't want to upset their driver too much. Their lives were in his hands. After a very long silence, Joe took the shotgun seat to Klaus' right, just behind the bus door.

"We were just busting your balls, Klaus. I wasn't trying to offend you. We know Hogan is fictional, but we loved it growing up. How do you know about it?"

"I have a brother in Minnesota. I have been to your country four times. I have seen that silly program because my brother made me watch it. It is offensive to Germans."

"All Germans?"

Klaus turned to Joe, "To those who lost family in the war, yes."

This was another turning point on the Euro Tour. Like he did back in the States, Joe pissed off the locals and now he would work on winning Klaus back. From Bremen to Hanover, to Dusseldorf, Joe took a little time each day to converse one-on-one with Klaus.

He learned that Klaus lost an uncle in the war and that his father was a machinist killed when Allied bombs destroyed the factory he worked in. Joe explained that his father was also a machinist. He listened as Klaus told him of American GIs occupying Cologne and how poorly they treated German women.

"I have three sisters," Joe said. "That would upset me also."

Joe listened but rarely commented on the German's wartime experience. Instead, he offered compliments on each city, how he loved the architecture, and how fabulous the Galeria de Arte de Bremen was. He liked brats and beer and joked that he might buy some lederhosen. Joe made sure to tell Klaus the young Germans loved his band.

"We did well in the UK and were doing great here," he said. "Paris was good too, but every other place else has been bad for the company."

"But you don't care?" Klaus said.

"You're aware of that?"

Klaus nodded. "I was briefed."

"They gave you background on me?"

"Yes, I already knew you have three sisters."

Joe fell back in his chair. "Does every EIC employee know my shit?"

"No, only those working close to you."

"Do you report back to Benjamin?"

"There has been nothing to report."

As they rolled into Klaus' hometown, Joe asked about his daughters. Klaus had warmed considerably over the past five days. He spoke proudly of his girls, then mentioned again that he hates their rock & roll records.

"Would you like me to give them my tickets?" Joe asked. "I get four for each show. I've been giving them away in every city. It's just fun to make people happy."

"Yes, I have seen you do this."

"I could give you the tickets and you could present them to your daughters. If you wish, they could meet the band. I can arrange that."

Klaus didn't reply. He looked to Joe to his right and then to the mirror to see who was in the lounge. He turned to Joe. "The tickets would be nice, but they don't have to meet the band."

Joe smiled, "And I know why."

The German leg of the tour was the most successful, barely edging the UK in tickets sold in fewer shows. Klaus' daughters were excited to get free tickets to a sold-out show. They did not meet the band. In the middle of that set, Joe said hello.

"So, out there somewhere are sisters, Anna and Sonja. the daughters of our tour bus driver. Hello frauliens. Your Poppa is a nice man, a little strict for my taste, but he's okay."

A week later, driving from Munich to Prague, Joe was disappointed to learn it was the end of the road for Klaus. They would have a new driver for the remaining dates.

"This is our third driver," he complained to Maya at a Prague cafe. "It took us a week and a half to get William out of his shell and longer for Klaus. Why do we need another change?"

"These men rarely drive more than a month. You've never done a tour this long, so you wouldn't know."

"I hope the next guy is okay."

"Klaus said your band is despicable," she smirked. "He didn't like Sal and Nate's pussy parade after each show."

Joe exhaled, "Klaus said pussy parade?"

"I guess that's what Sal calls his parties on the bus."

"And that's why I'm rarely on the bus after a show. I'm sick of it too."

Maya smiled, "Klaus also said it wasn't you. And he said Simon was okay."

"Yeah, Si isn't like Sal and Nate. He'll hook up on occasion, but he's not a shameless dog." Joe leaned back. "That's why Klaus didn't want his daughters to meet the band. I can't say I blame him. He has a problem with Americans mistreating German women."

"Excuse me?"

Joe told Maya Klaus' story of post-war Cologne and then explained how he got that info. "I used a charm blitzkrieg on him, kissing his German ass and telling him how beautiful Deutschland is. I did everything short of a Sieg Heil to thaw him out. He's okay, for a stodgy old kraut."

"He liked you, but I won't sugarcoat it," Maya said, looking over her cup as she sipped coffee. "Sal is an arse. I've seen him ogle women and I've heard the rubbish that spews from his chauvinist face. Klaus told me a few things."

"Yeah," Joe smiled, amused by Maya's harsh tone. "Sal's not a romantic."

"He's a pig."

"Hey," Joe furrowed his brow. "Was Klaus reporting back to you?"

"Only on his last day, a debriefing."

"What the fuck is this, military intelligence?"

.

.

--- BARCELONA ---

The tour took the band to several Eastern Bloc capitals where fans were happy to have an American band playing live, but not enough to fill the large theaters they were booked in.

Then the Whale turned back west, two dates in Switzerland and on to the south of France and Spain for the final week of the tour.

Sitting on the lounge sofa in the band's tour bus in Barcelona, Maya uncomfortably squirmed, staring at Joe, not answering his last question.

"Well." He pressed her. "Did they tell you why I did years of therapy?"

"Yes," she said. "You lost a sister."

"What business is that of his? Why is my deeply personal pain of interest to EIC?"

"I agree with you. We don't have to discuss it."

"You're right," Joe changed the subject. "What did Sal say earlier today that pissed you off."

"His usual rubbish. Some of the things he says make me want to punch him in the face."

Joe laughed, "Welcome to my world."

"Joe, I've been living in your world for 54 days, 17 hours, 10 minutes, and..."

"Ha ha!" Joe shoved her away. "You're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

Maya smirked, looking at Joe sideways. "Yes, I will." She took a sip of the martini Joe had crafted on the bus. She leaned closer. "Do you remember when you angered your band by making them tune up and learn new Kinks songs for half a day?"

"Yes, Sal was a little bitch."

"He was far worse than that." Maya raised a finger. "That was my first clue that you were a good guy. He was disrespectful of me, implying that I sleep with clients."

"I'm pretty sure it was sucking dick," Joe smirked.

"Yes, it was, and you quietly shut him down, saying I was a professional and that was not on the menu. I liked that line because it was simple."

"Was that the first time you wanted to fuck me?"

"Stop." Maya's eyes got serious. "I never should have confessed that. You'll never let me forget it."

"Hey, I didn't drag a confession out of you. You gave that information up freely. You volunteered it."

"After you interrogated me with these," she held her martini glass up.

Joe's face turned earnest, looking at Maya's smile. She was fabulous. Over 54 days, 17 hours, and now 13 minutes, he had grown fond of her. They were strictly professional friends on coffee dates and occasional platonic drinking buddies after hours. They had a couple of late nights in the UK, one in Helsinki, and another in Stuttgart where she let her guard down, getting flirty and touchy. Still, Joe was a perfect gentleman. In Budapest, she declined his invitation, embarrassed by her behavior in Germany. It was in Switzerland that Joe got her drunk and she let her guard way down.

Maya leaned against him in a big booth at a dark bar on the Lake Geneva shoreline, very close to where they burned down the gambling house that died with an awful sound. "Be honest. How difficult is it to not sleep with these women? I see them, every city, every show, and you just..."

"Nothing. I do nothing. I'm a professional."

"Yes, you are," she smiled. "But don't tell me you don't think about it."

Joe played dumb. "Think about what?"

"Shagging these girls." She whispered loudly as drunk people do.

"Thinking is not a crime."

Maya went quiet, looking into his dark eyes. "I think about it."

"You think about shagging these chicks."

"No." She shoved him lightly. "You."

"Oooooh." Joe raised an eyebrow. He pushed her cocktail away. "Maybe you've had enough of this."

She took her glass back and finished her drink. "Yes. Now I've had enough."

After that night, they never spoke of it until the night on the Euro Bus in Barcelona. Maya had invited herself on board knowing the band was out drinking on a night off. Joe wondered if she had a plan to make a move. He was nervous like he was in high school again. Maya did have an agenda, but it wasn't sex.

"If I didn't have you here," Joe said in all seriousness, "I'm not sure I would survived this tour intact."

"That's nonsense. No one is more intact than you. Under pressure, you are very good. You seem to thrive there, in your drama. It seems like chaos at times, but you are in control."

"That's not what I mean. Because I'm single Sal thought I should have an orgy with the continent of Europe. I didn't want that, but if I was alone all this time with these girls around, I would have fallen off the wagon."

"And so what if you did? Why not have fun?"

"That one in five chance that she's waiting at the airport."

"And so what if she is? Did she not leave you?"

"I think she did." Joe exhaled. "I didn't set out to be a boy scout on this tour. It just happened. Early on, I met some of Simon's friends. This girl Shelley was fantastic and I know I could have, but it didn't feel right."

"Why not?"

"Okay, you're gonna think I'm strange, but I've never had a one-night stand. I don't know why and now I have this weird fucking pride in that."

"That's not weird. It's admirable, especially given your circumstances."

After a long silence, Maya finished her drink and then sat up tall on the sofa, She looked Joe in the eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "The reason I came aboard to talk is not good news. I'm flying home first thing in the morning."

Joe's heart sank but he had to play it cool. "We still have tomorrow's show, Seville, Madrid, and the finale in London."

"I'll see you in London, on the final night. David has called me back. He suspects you're not going to continue with EIC."

"You could tell him I'm still mulling it over."

"No, Joe. I have not reported anything about your thoughts on the future. I told David you refuse to discuss it. That's the only lie I will tell."

"He probably figures I don't trust you."

"And if you planned on staying with us, trust would not be an issue and you would talk."

That was Joe and Maya's last moment alone. As the tour moved on to the final shows, Joe thought back on his time with her. He was a perfect gentleman but had Maya made a first move, this would be a different story.

After each show in three Spanish cities, he got stupid drunk, drinking alone in bars and then in his cabin. The closer his flight got the more he thought about his future. It was not comforting living in his head.

.

.

--- NOVEMBER 5, 1984 ---

Joe's head pressed against the window of Pan Am flight 3440 as it descended into the New York airspace. He watched the southern coast of Long Island pass by. In a matter of minutes, he would know who was correct; everyone he knew who insisted Tina would be waiting at JFK, or him. He didn't want to win this bet. Two days earlier he stood on stage in London. The tour opened in Hammersmith on the west side and ended across town two months later.

As he walked on stage at The Electric Ballroom in East London, Joe knew something no one else did. The Young Punks Euro Tour finale would be his last show. In the home stretch of the tour, after Maya's departure, he decided he was done. Joe had convinced himself of two things. Tina would not be at JFK and his band cost him his girl. It was that simple. And he was sick of Sal.

The final venue was by far the smallest of the tour, only 1500 tickets were available. They sold out immediately after the Hammersmith show. EIC considered changing to a larger space but decided against it. It turned out to be one of Joe's favorite nights in the UK with the correct size venue and a rowdy crowd who sang loud and proud for his Ray Davies singalongs. When it was over, Joe returned to his hotel room to drink alone. He was relieved the tour was over but depressed that Maya was reassigned and did not appear in London as she had promised. Joe would fly home in two days.

When the landing gear doors opened and the wheels lowered, Joe felt queasy. It wasn't air sickness. He watched the horizon get closer. As the rubber hit runway L7 at John F. Kennedy International Airport he felt a surge of angst. He was minutes from knowing his fate.

He remained in his seat while other passengers jockeyed for position in the aisle, removing items from the overhead bin, and standing for no good reason, hunched under the overhead compartments. They weren't going anywhere for a while. Joe would remain seated, people-watching.

Walking off the plane, he saw Sal and Nate ahead of him on the jetway. He did not attempt to reach them. Simon was not wrong. Over the last two months, he had stepped away from the band. Sal talking to EIC was his third strike. Nate's Swiss-like neutrality was forever annoying.

Joe and Simon were fine, but after so many days, months, and years on the road, you get tired of the other guy's ticks and annoying habits. He needed to get away from these guys. He didn't tell Simon his mind was made up. He simply said he was taking the rest of the year off. Sal and Nate were like Seargent Shultz. They knew nutting.

When he reached baggage claim, Joe stopped and scanned the large room looking for purple or some other unusual color hair. He met eyes with Simon who had already searched the room. Nate and Sal stood on the opposite side of the carousel. They all knew she wasn't there. In the past, there would be a commotion, squealing and screaming, hugs and kisses.

'She could be running late,' he thought. 'Airport traffic sucks.'

When the carousel began churning out bags, travelers crowded in. Joe stayed back. He was in no hurry. He kept an eye on the corridor leading to ground transportation and garages. When Simon got his bag first, he joined Joe.

"Are you okay, mate?"

"Nope."

"Do you want to share a ride in?"

"Nah, Si. I want to be alone."

Simon put his arms out and embraced Joe. "Thanks for coming to my city, and for Europe. I wish it was better for you."

"Be good, Si. We'll talk later."

"If you're taking the rest of the year off. I'll probably go home for a holiday."

"Why didn't you just stay behind?"

Simon looked Joe in the eyes with a sad expression. He exhaled. "I wanted to be here. I hoped to see Tina jump into your arms. I love you two. This is hard. You should go to her, Joe. Give her a chance."

Joe said nothing. Simon walked off just as Joe's bags appeared. After retrieving them, he sat in a plastic seat for several minutes, hoping she was just running late. Nate and Sal left without a word. When the final passenger from their flight left, Joe watched a lonely suitcase riding the carousel, alone, unclaimed. Joe knew how that bag felt. He walked out of JFK to his changed life.

--- ROCKSTAR ---

Joe walked into Guerilla Records to a warm homecoming. It was good to know someone was happy he was back. Marty was ecstatic, congratulating Joe. Laura was in her office on the phone, booking a gig for one of their club bands. The moment she saw Joe her heart skipped a beat and she cut the call off.

"I'm sorry. I'll have to call you back." She hung up and went to Joe. As he embraced her, she exhaled, feeling warm and happy inside. "You and Europe survived."

"Barely."

"Have you heard from her?"

"Nope. It's over."

Laura leaned back and looked at him. "What makes you say that?"

"She didn't greet me at the airport like she always does."

"Hey, you can be the bigger man and reach out to her."

"You weren't in the room." Joe's eyes grew intense. "She ended it, not me. I'm not the one who needs to reach out. She'd probably bite my hand off."

"Okay. I'm sorry. I should stay out of your love life," She smiled. "What are you going to do now that you're a successful world-touring rockstar?"

"Give me a break."

"Joe, she's not wrong," Marty smiled. "Feed The Rich is selling great. We've done more pressings on all four records. It's been incredible. You need to get the guys in the studio again. Did you write any music in Europe?"

"No."

"Well, what are you gonna do now?" Laura asked again.

"Get a room at The Chelsea. Have lunch with Marty and Stan tomorrow, visit with Tommy, and go back to Providence to see my sisters."

"I mean your next plan. You always have a plan."

"I have no idea. Take some time off, at least a couple of months."

"Are you meeting with David Benjamin?" Marty asked.

"No. That will never happen, Marty."

Joe looked at Laura. "You should have lunch with us tomorrow. We have to talk, all of us."

Laura was flattered. "Me, at Stan's lunch?" She blushed. "I think he needs to invite me."

"If that old crank has a problem with you there," Joe said. "you and I will dine elsewhere."

The following day, Joe arrived at Fine & Shapiro hung over after a long talk with his old friend Jim at the Hotel Chelsea. First, he sat at the bar in El Quijote chatting with residents he knew by face but not name. He dined at the bar, watching the faces change over hours. Then he opened a bottle of Jim in his room. He woke up late, showered, and arrived at the deli even later. When he walked up to Stan's booth, Laura was seated beside the old man.

"It's about damn time," Stan grumbled.

"Bloody fucking hell," Joe said as he sat beside Marty. "What a shock that the first words out of your mouth after not seeing me for two months is you bitching."

Laura and Marty laughed.

"If you were on time I wouldn't complain."

"Sure you would." Joe picked up the menu he didn't need. "It would just be something else."

After the food was ordered, his partners went on about record sales and pressing more vinyl and how Laura was excited to be planning The Young Punks' next tour, whenever Joe was ready to get back out there. Marty again mentioned the band getting back in the studio for a new record. Joe sipped his soft drink and listened, dreading the news he was about to deliver.

'I better do it before the food arrives,' he thought. He interrupted Marty. "Hey, you guys need to know something." He paused. "It's important and you're not going to like it."

Marty, Stan, and Laura all stared at him.

Joe took a deep cleansing breath. "I'm done with The Young Punks. It's over."

"What the hell for?" Stan barked. "You just toured goddamn Europe. You're at the top of your game."

"That's the best time to walk away," Joe said. "before you can't play the game and look sad just clinging to past glory."

"You're a fucking kid," Stan barked.

Marty took a different angle. "You're not at the top of your game. Your best is yet to come. I feel it, Joe. I believe you..."