PUNKS Ch. 01: Coming Home

Author note: This is a character development chapter, 3600 words with no sex scenes.

September 1991

Tina stood in the front row of the balcony, leaning against the rail, looking down at stacks of amplifiers and the drum kit in the shadows. A smile pursed her lips.

"He's gonna be right there," she thought. "You made it big time, Joe. I knew you would, and that scared the fuck out of me."

Her brother and sister-in-law took seats to her left while Tina remained standing, hoping to get a glimpse of her ex before the show.

"Hey T, smile." Jack clicked a photo as she turned, her pink hair flipping sideways.

"Retake it," Tina said. "I think I closed my eyes."

"It won't matter. We're stoned. Your eyes are slits."

April pointed backstage. "Is that him? Behind the guitars, talking to a woman."

Tina squinted, "Nope, not skinny enough."

"Are you nervous?" April asked Tina.

"I'm excited with anticipation." She smiled. "Sometimes that feels like nerves."

"You haven't seen him in years," Jack noted. "Of course you're nervous."

Tina looked down at the fans in the lower level, scanning the audience, certain some of the punk crew from her and Joe's past would be present to witness their friend's triumphant return. She turned to check out faces on the balcony. For the first time in her life, Tina felt old.

"I feel like a chaperone. Everyone is so young," she lamented.

"Isn't it past your bedtime, grandma?" Jack laughed. T slapped his shoulder.

Tina, Jack, and April passed the time people-watching, pointing out punk fashion and hairstyles. Tina was a stand-out. Her luxurious, wavy pink hair was an eye-catcher. She wore a red leather jacket, black designer jeans - too tight for comfort - and high heeled boots. Tina was smoking hot, and she flaunted it.

A flurry of activity on stage alerted fans the show was starting. Tina continued to scan backstage eager to see the man she pushed out of her life seven years ago - seven years and three weeks to be exact. A mistake she regretted immediately after he left New York.

"I fucked up, Joe," she thought. "I naively assumed you'd come back."

As her perfectly cute ass lowered into her aisle seat, the house lights began slowly dimming. The crowd came to life, cheering, whistling, and hooting. Tina stood right back up. Within a few seconds, the entire audience was on their feet, creating a cacophony of punk love.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the Beacon Theater. Audio recording is not permitted during tonight's performance. Flash photography is prohibited."

Jack leaned towards Tina, "Joe's gone corporate, fucking sell out."

"Will you please give a warm Manhattan welcome to Guerilla recording artists, from Los Angeles, California - City of Angels!"

The crowd volume went from eight to ten. Tina focused on a roadie's flashlight leading a pair of legs and a guitar to a microphone front and center. Her heart did a fifth-grade cartwheel, a girl with a crush. She gasped, putting hands to her mouth.

Joe was a shadow, thirty feet away. As she strained to see him in the dark, obnoxiously bright white lights illuminated the theater, blinding the entire audience as the first chords of the performance penetrated ears at deafening decibels. It was the trashing guitar opening to Venice, one of CoA's hits. When her eyes adjusted to the glare in her face, there was the man she loved, bouncing, swinging an arm over six strings, jumping close to the stage edge where the arms of adoring fans reached out.

Tina was mesmerized by a ghost of her past life. When Joe stepped up to the mic and began singing, her eyes welled up. She covered them, peeking between her fingers. She looked at her little brother. His arms were raised, with joy on his face. He glanced over, saw her misty eyes, and reached out. Tina let his arms take her in while she watched Joe Theroux, the man she should have married, through her tears.

Recovering from her emotions, Tina stood for the first two songs, dancing in her place, singing along. She knew his lyrics by heart. City of Angels' two CDs were permanent fixtures in her life. When the second song ended, Joe paced the stage front, giving high fives to front-row fans.

"I guess it would have been fun to be down there," she thought, "to see him up close."

Joe wore his brands: Levis jeans, and Converse All-Star sneakers. His black T-shirt with cut-off sleeves, another trademark, had large white block letters - L.A.X. He circled back to the mic.

"Thank you, Manhattan! It's great to be back."

The punks cheered louder. A single rose flew from the crowd landing near Joe.

"I once lived here, long ago, in another life." He reached down to pick up the rose and wedged it into his mic stand.

"We'll talk about my life here later. I have a story to tell." He strummed a note on his bone-white Fender Telecaster "Let's play something from the first album, this song is called Iggy Pop."

The band blasted into the hard opening that morphs into a danceable groove. Joe let his guitar slide to his hip during the refrain, taking his mic in hand, singing while strutting to the beat. Tina clapped, sang, and hooted as loudly as her sweet feminine voice would allow. She focused briefly on Chico Lopez on lead guitar, bald and stocky, wearing jeans and a white oxford, unbuttoned, over a T-shirt emblazoned with the flag of Mexico.

"So that's his best friend in California," she thought.

Her eyes slid over to bassist Patrice Jones. PJ was a large, barrel-chested black man wearing all white and a Dodgers cap.

"And that's his new songwriting partner."

Behind the drum kit was David Rodriquez, the quiet one. The band played a few songs from their 1990 debut record. Then Joe took the mic and made Tina's heart soar.

"As I said, I lived in the West Village for most of five years, whenever my band was in town. We played hundreds of gigs in four boroughs. Anyone here from Tommy Guns?" There were scattered screams and cheers around the theater. She remembered she was one of them and began screaming.

"I fell madly in love in Manhattan, and with Manhattan."

Tina's heart pounded. She held both hands to her chest.

"I mooched off my girlfriend in the Village until she kicked my sorry ass out of town." He kicked his leg out.

Her heart sank. This is not how she wanted the story told. She felt her brother's eyes in her periphery. She glanced over. He shrugged. A roadie took Joe's Fender and handed him an acoustic guitar. Tina recognized it immediately.

"That's his Martin Dreadnought," she thought. "He still plays Dread." Tina turned to her brother and shouted, "I bought him that guitar!"

Joe walked back to the mic. "This was the first song I wrote after my heart was crushed. Let's get the tears out of the way so we can jam later."

She knew what song was coming, two acoustic notes in, she looked at Jack again. He was already staring at her, as was April. He leaned in. "You always knew this song was about you."

"I like to think they're all about me." Her eyes welled up as Joe sang his semi-hit song, Self Inflicted, about mistakes he made, leaving a life behind, and deep regret. Between songs, he told of his life journey, from New York to cities around the world.

"After I was kicked out of New York, I wept my way to New Orleans. My old band played there but we never had time to truly explore The Big Easy. I wrote this song during my brief affair with another city."

Tina cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted at the stage. "I didn't kick you out of the city. You said you could never live here again!" Tina looked left, her brother Jack was staring at her, wide-eyed.

Again, Tina knew what song was coming - a sexy, funky number about meeting a hooker and falling in lust for seven steamy days. The song Big Easy was packed with sexual innuendo. Sugar, a soft woman whose affection set him straight, and how she blew more than his mind. The lyrics lit a flare of hot jealousy deep in Tina's belly. Somehow, knowing this happened immediately after they split, changed the song for her.

Every two or three songs, Joe stepped up to the mic and continued his tale of a broken young man searching for the rest of his life, not knowing where that might be.

"Two weeks later, I was on the beach in California. I loved it, but I wasn't done wandering, so I crossed the border at Tijuana. After a week-long siesta in Cabo, I lingered for two months in Mexico City."

Patrice Jones' booming baritone interrupted. "Because there was a Chiquita. There's a woman in every city Joe sleeps in."

"That's not true," Joe protested, "only a few."

"A Few dozen." Chico chimed in.

Tina felt a hot flash in her face. She didn't need to hear this. She watched as Joe flipped a digit as he named cities. "New York, New Orleans, Mexico City, Santiago, and Buenos Aires, that's five."

"Great!" she thought, "I'm reduced to a fucking city name, like some groupie he banged on the road?"

"We'll continue this later," Joe said. "Let's play something from our upcoming record. We just finished recording our third album, right here in Chelsea. This song is called Dark Passage. It's about traveling the world alone."

Joe strummed a few chords. "I had never heard of the Dorian Gap." He paused. "I thought I could drive to South America. I wrote this song on an overnight cargo ship from Panama to Columbia."

Chico and Joe blasted the opening chords. Tina loved Joe's music, but she wanted to hear more of his story, especially now that she was out of it. The song Spicy Chile told another tale of a far away tryst. Eldorado, a hard-driving road song, referenced the Andes Mountains and Patagonia. Eighteen songs into the set, Joe reached Buenos Aires.

"My trusty Cadillac convertible made it all the way to Tierra del Fuego, at the very tip of South America, but on the way back, she started knocking. It took seventeen months to repair my busted car - and my heart."

"Another love story," PJ added.

"And it doesn't end well," said Chico.

"They never do," laughed PJ.

Joe looked back at his mates, then to the audience. "Buenos Aires didn't work out, but I got three great songs out of it."

Again, from knowing Joe's lyrics, Tina guessed two of the three songs before he played them. When the third number came to a cymbal crashing close, and the crowd's cheers faded, Joe pulled off his sweaty T-shirt and gave it to a girl up front, a custom he started in 1979. Tina had a half dozen of his gig T-shirts in a box, somewhere.

Joe stepped up to the mic, shirtless. "After two years wandering the world, I was still lost. I missed the states, so my Eldorado took me home. We did a straight haul from Argentina to Los Angeles, stopping for nothing. That's where I met these jamokes." He gestured to his bandmates.

Chico stepped up to his mic. "He was fucking mess, a lost soul, drunk and disheveled."

"I wasn't that bad."

PJ leaned into his mic. "He was pathetic."

***

At the end of the set, one big song was unplayed - Gravity. It was Joe's first hit and Tina's favorite. They opened their encore with it. Joe abandoned his guitar to sing, using the entire stage, interacting with fans. When they launched into the second song of the encore, Tina elbowed her brother.

"Let's make a break for the exit and get backstage before the crowd starts moving."

Jack tugged on April's arm and signaled they were leaving. Tina led the way across the balcony and down two flights of stairs. As the band took their bows, and the house lights came up, the threesome was approaching the backstage entrance, fighting against the exiting crowd like salmon swimming upstream.

"That was incredible," said April. "I can't believe we're going to meet them."

"Try not to geek out too much." Jack laughed. "We know Joe. It's not a big deal."

April looked at Tina as they approached a pair of bouncers guarding the double doors. "Is it a big deal, Tina?"

"It is to me."

April stuck her tongue out at Jack.

Tina flashed her backstage pass over her head. A bouncer scrutinized their laminated passes and waved them through. Behind the stage doors, they weaved their way through roadies and theater staff moving crates on rollers in preparation for breaking down the stage. Seeing a large group of people with food and drinks, they headed in that direction.

"Hey, Tina Costello!" A voice called out.

Simon McManus, Joe's ex-bandmate, excused himself from a conversation and made a hasty line to Tina. Arms extended, he greeted her with a warm embrace.

"You my dear, are a sight for sore eyes," he exclaimed. "Look at you. You're ravishing."

"It's so wonderful to see you, Simon" Tina kissed him on the cheek. "I didn't know you were in town."

"I popped over two days ago to see his majesty's triumphant return to the Big Apple. I saw them play London and Liverpool on the tour. Joe invited me over."

"Where are you staying?"

"The band rented a flat in Tribeca for two weeks. They had a spare sofa. If it's free, it's for me."

"Simon, do you remember my brother, Jack? This is his wife April."

"Of course." Simon shook Jack's hand. "Good to see you again." He leaned in to give April a half hug. "And nice to meet you, April. Lovely name."

"Thank you." April blushed.

"Rumor has it you have a studio in London." Tina smiled at Simon.

"We opened two months ago. Thanks to your man I'm the proud proprietor of Guerilla Records' U.K. office."

"He's not her man," Jack said coldly.

"Shut up, Jack," Tina snapped back.

"Check this out." Simon pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to Tina.

Guerilla Records ~ New York ~ Los Angeles ~ London

"This is impressive," she said softly, "especially when you know how it all began."

"Your man has changed my life," said Simon, "more than once."

Tina glared at her brother. "Don't say it."

The four stood at the far edge of the backstage after-party. Well over one hundred fans, press, radio jocks, and Guerilla Records people chatted in small clusters. Tina waved at another old friend from across the room. Laura Podvorek, Joe's business partner at his label, strolled over and joined their group.

"What's good over there," Tina motioned to the buffet.

"The Swedish meatballs are killer - at fattening," Laura answered, pointing to brown meatballs on her plastic plate.

"I'm starving." Tina put a hand on her tummy.

Laura leaned closer. "Thanks for waiting until after the show to see him. We were afraid he'd run away at the sight of you."

Simon snickered, "You my dear, could have caused a small riot."

Tina smiled, "I'm pretty sure he's over me." She walked towards the buffet.

"You haven't seen Joe yet." Jack said loudly, "You're gonna eat first?"

Tina shouted without looking back. "Just a snack."

"She's got time," Laura said. "He's tied up with fans. Joe never knows when to say enough is enough."

Simon snickered. "He was the same with The Punks, always loved the fans."

April poked her husband. "Are we going to meet him? That's what I'm here for."

"I don't even know if he'll recognize me," Jack said low.

"He will. The guy has a memory like a vault," Laura said while putting a meatball in her mouth. "Once you're in Joe's head, you never escape."

"Is that good or bad?" Asked April.

"It depends on if you crossed him or not." Simon chucked again.

"Well then, Tina's screwed." Jack quipped as his sister returned with a pile of food. His eyes widened. "You said just a snack."

"It is," she smiled with her eyes because her mouth was full.

"We're never gonna get over there," April whined.

"I'll take you over," Jack said. "His cult of worshipers is thinning."

Finally, there were few enough people crowded around the band that they could see Joe and his mates standing on the opposite side of the party. Jack took April's hand and led her that way. As they approached Joe, three young ladies were taking turns getting photos with him. A bleach blonde punk chick in fishnet stockings turned to Jack.

"Can you click one of all four of us?"

Joe looked up, saw Jack, and smiled. "Baby brother."

"Sure, I'll take a pic for you." Jack took her camera, waited for the three girls to pose with Joe, counted down, and clicked twice. He handed the camera back to the blonde.

"Okay girls," Joe said with authority. "I'm off duty now. This is an old friend I must see."

"Thanks, Joe, we love you." They said in near unison, walking away with a bounce in their step.

Joe moved towards Jack, open arms, and embraced him. "It's good to see you, my brother."

"I miss you, brother."

April looked up from her five-foot-three watching two men hug for too long. Joe eventually noticed.

"Are you going to introduce us?"

"No," she said. "Because he's an idiot."

Joe laughed. "That sounds like a wife to me."

"Yup," said Jack. "This is April. Hon, this is Joe Theroux."

"I know who he is." She extended her hand. Joe went in for a hug, taking her by surprise.

"I'm happy to meet you, April Costello. Are you friends with Abbott?

"I get the joke. We don't like it," she said.

"It's a no-brainer," Joe snickered.

"Exactly," she snapped. "It's a dumb joke."

Jack jumped in before his sassy wife let the conversation go sideways, telling Joe how much they loved the show.

April gushed in agreement. "You were amazing."

Joe did his thing, accepting compliments and answering questions. April requested photos. Joe happily obliged. After a third click, he caught a glimpse of Tina, across the room, talking to Simon, Laura, and a couple of Guerilla Records employees. Tina was mid-bite, stuffing a meatball in her face when they made eye contact. She chewed, swallowed, and excused herself from her group. Jack and April stepped aside to observe the reunion, seven years in the making. Laura and Simon watched from afar.

As the love of his life got within six feet, Joe did what he does best, he teased her. "I haven't seen you in forever, and the first glimpse I get is you shoveling food in your face." He smiled. "You haven't changed."

Jack laughed. Tina glared at her brother. "Shut up."

As she leaned forward with one arm to hug him, her plate tipped. Brown gravy spilled off the edge, landing on Joe's Levis and dripping on his white canvas All-Stars. Joe looked down, and then back at Tina.

"Still clumsy after all these years."

He took the plate from her, handed it to Jack, and wrapped his arms around Tina. They embraced, without a word. Joe didn't want to let go of the moment they had both dreamed of for too many years. When he finally released her, Tina let out a sigh.

Joe's eyes locked onto hers. "It's wonderful to see you, T."

She blushed. "It's good to see you. You have quite a story."

"And it's not over yet." Joe smiled. "How did you like the show, Mrs. Giacomo?"

"I loved it." Tina leaned against him. "I'm so proud of you." She whispered, "Please don't call me that."

"You're still gorgeous." He stepped back. "I'm serious. You look fabulous. I love that you still dye your hair."

"Thank you," she blushed again. "You're a mess."

"I just did a two-hour workout under hot lights. I'm a little stinky."

Jack and April looked on, invisible while T and Joe got reacquainted. Finally, Joe looked over and acknowledged them.

"So, whose plan was this?"

"T got the passes from your people," said Jack.

"Really? Who? And why didn't they tell me?"

"Laura was afraid you'd run away," Tina smirked, "again."

"Well, I'm glad you're here."

Laura and Simon joined the reunion, happy to see their old friends talking again, especially Simon.

"The King and Queen of Manhattan, together again," he pronounced.

"Not really," Jack half-whispered. "She's married."

"Shut up, Jack." April elbowed her husband.