PUNKS Ch. 03: Live from New York

When Joe returned to Los Angeles after his tour, Tina kept her word. She phoned on her Monday lunch break and so began a new phase in their relationship. They talked mostly about what was happening in their daily lives. Tina wanted to know everything about Joe's life in California. He simply enjoyed listening to her talk - about anything.

"I need to tell you something, Joe. These conversations have been therapeutic. Just being in touch has helped me get over our past. I beat myself up for years. I feel like I'm turning a corner."

"It's a double-edged sword for me. I've had the same catharsis, but this also reminds me of how natural we are together, and what we've lost."

They seemed to instinctively avoid discussing their past mistakes. Why taint their new friendship with old grievances? Joe suspected that talk was coming, but not today. Tina loved the band's new CD.

"It's so different from your first two records. It's more polished. Every song is good. I've heard three on the radio. I love it."

"Thanks. It's doing so well we're booking bigger venues for our next tour."

"Madison Square Garden?"

"No, T. We're not at the sports arena level, not yet."

They also never spoke of their time together in September. Joe knew precisely why she didn't bring it up and chose to take his cues from her. If she didn't mention it, neither would he. Tina was raised in a strict Catholic family: mass every Sunday, communion, catechism, and confirmation. She attended Catholic schools, K through twelve, and was married in the church. She bought everything the Vatican was selling. Joe was also raised in a strict Catholic family, but he didn't buy-in. He bailed out after his confirmation. During their years together, Joe was not a good influence. Tina didn't attend mass when he was in town. Fucking and cooking breakfast together was their Sunday morning tradition.

With her Catholic upbringing came an unhealthy dose of guilt and a black and white sense of right and wrong. Joe actually adored that part of T. She was truly a good and honest woman, caring and generous. She was loyal, a committed monogamist, so he assumed them sleeping together must have resulted in a bout of self-loathing. After two months of weekly phone chats, one unasked question gnawed at Joe. He finally came out with it.

"Tell me, T. After you slept with me, did you regret it? Did guilt get the best of you?"

There was a brief silence on the other end. "No, I don't regret it."

"Really? And there was no guilt?"

"I didn't say that. There was definitely guilt. After you left I changed the linens and went to bed. When Troy got home he wanted sex. I was not in the mood."

"That must have been awkward."

"He was a little drunk and became irritated with me. That's when guilt crept in. I got paranoid. Even with fresh sheets, I could still smell you. I was certain he could too." She paused. "I felt like shit."

"How do you feel about it now?"

"I'm talking to you," she said. "So I guess I'm over it."

"I'm glad you don't hate me for it."

"No. I'll never hate you. It was good that we had a couple of weeks between that day and when we spoke again. I got my head straight."

"I'm glad we can talk. This means a lot to me."

"Me too," T said softly, "but I have something to say."

"What's that?"

Tina paused before speaking. "I don't regret what we did, but we can never do it again."

"I understand," he said low. "Can I at least see you when I go back east?"

"Yes, I would like that, but it'll be just as friends."

"I can live with that."

"Can you, Joe?"

"I'll do my best."

*****

Three weeks later, Joe dialed Tina's office for the first time, two days before Christmas, as he packed bags for a flight home to Providence. She explained she was waiting for her husband to pick her up for last-minute Christmas shopping.

"Tomorrow night we're in Brooklyn," she said, 'for the Costello Christmas extravaganza."

"Those were fun nights," Joe recalled. "Your mom does Christmas right. Everything was perfect. Your parents know you saw me, right?"

"Of course. Jack made a big fuss about it. He was kind of a jerk, actually. He and Dad teased me. It was stupid."

"I wanted to call to wish you a Merry Christmas, T - but I have other news. It's huge."

Joe paused, not giving up the big news. He often played with her childlike impatience. Tina waited. He said nothing.

"Well, what is it?" She finally asked.

"We're performing on Saturday Night Live."

"Oh my God! Really? That is huge. When is this?"

"We don't have the exact date," he said. "It looks like it'll be in February, the dead of winter. That part's gonna suck."

"I can't believe it. SNL. I'm so proud of you."

"I'm gonna try to get you tickets."

"That would be incredible. I'd love that."

"Give me a few weeks to figure out what I can do."

"Okay, Joe. Troy's here. I have to go. Merry Christmas. Tell your sisters I said hello."

Joe did not tell his three sisters Tina said hello. They held a grudge against her for hurting their big brother, over seven years ago, sending him on a journey far from friends and family. He never told them he saw Tina again, or that they were staying in touch. His sisters' ability to hold a grudge was legendary. It was in Theroux genes.

February 1992

During a late afternoon cocktail event at the Amethyst Gallery, Tina acknowledged her receptionist's hand signals from across the room. She excused herself and took a call she was expecting in her office. The news would disappoint her.

"I won't be able to see you until right before the show, Saturday afternoon."

"No Friday?" Tina moaned. "I cleared my entire schedule."

"I have business all day, right through dinner. I'm sorry."

"What time are you available Saturday?"

"Mid-afternoon."

Tina had nothing to say. She was hurt. There was an awkward silence.

"I'd like to make it up to you," he said. "How about you come to my hotel around 4:30. We can have drinks in the bar, an early dinner if you like. When the NBC limo picks us up, you can ride with the band to The Rock."

"I'll have Jack and April with me."

"I think they can find their way without you. You'll be arriving with me, early."

"Can I meet the cast?"

"Sure. Who do you want to meet?"

"Mike Myers and Dana Carvey. And Chris Farley. I love him."

"I'm sure they'll be there. Tina, I'm sorry I ruined your Friday night."

"You better make it up to me. Friday is gonna suck hard. He's going to a hockey game. I'll be alone all night."

"I'll do my best to make it up to you."

*****

After spending his Saturday afternoon getting a massage and showering, Joe paced his hotel room. The bedside clock read 4:25. He sprayed a little cologne and headed for the elevator. Bemelmans, the bar at the Carlyle Hotel, was one-third occupied on this day. Joe sat at the end of the bar. After his closing hour antics the last few nights, he was on first names with the staff.

"Kenny, can I get a pint."

The forty-ish bartender with a shaved head turned around. "Hey, Joe. Guinness?"

"Nectar of the Gods."

"Menu?"

"Later. I'm waiting for a friend. Are you closing tonight?"

"I am. Are you?"

Joe laughed. "I don't know. We'll see where the night ends."

"You're staying with us, Joe. The night ends here."

Joe glanced around, checking out other patrons, glanced at the clock, and watched Kenny slow-pour his pint. Once delivered, Joe allowed it to properly settle. At the opposite end of the bar, purple hair wearing a black suede jacket appeared. She drew the attention of everyone in the room. Joe waved. Tina smiled and walked over.

"You're late," Joe said as she put her arms around him.

His instinct was to kiss her, but Joe caught himself, an awkward moment Tina seemed to enjoy.

"What are you drinking?"

"No hard liquor," she said, "not this early."

"Me neither. I don't want to make drunk SNL headlines."

"I'll take one of those." She pointed at Joe's pint.

Joe got Kenny's attention with a wave and pointed to his pint, then Tina. "When did you go back to purple?" He gestured to her hair.

"Right after the holidays," she said. "It's a New Year thing."

Joe told her about his SNL experience, the rehearsals, meeting the cast, and the business dinner he had the night before.

"It's been weird. A few in the cast are geeking over having us on the show and we're star-struck meeting the players. I figured this is normal for them. The Stones played SNL - and Springsteen. Who the fuck are we?"

"Your new album is pretty damn big," she smiled and took her first sip of Guinness, "big enough to get you on SNL."

"I suppose. I'm sorry about yesterday. It was a hectic day, and then we had our business dinner."

"On a Friday night? Tina asked.

"It was Marty's idea. He wanted to treat the band. Instead, he was punishing me. All I could think about was what I could be doing, and with whom."

"What is it a meeting, or a dinner?"

"A working dinner with spouses, the Guerilla Records A-team. We went over our next tour. We're playing Radio City in July."

Tina smiled. "I'll definitely be there."

After looking over menus, they agreed on entrees, both ordering fish and chips and a second pint of Guinness. Joe purposely sat at the bar so they could be close, rather than across a table, so he could touch her. He squeezed her hand to emphasize a point, then leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

"You look amazing. Seeing your smile makes me so happy. I'm really sorry about yesterday."

"I feel better now. I should have known you'd have rehearsals. I wasn't thinking."

"I'm in town through Tuesday. Aside from a Monday morning thing at the studio, I'm free."

"You fly back Wednesday?"

"Yeah, 7:15 AM out of LaGuardia." Joe placed his hand on hers."You tell me where and when, and I'll be there. What are you doing Sunday?"

"Tomorrow? We have a birthday in Queens with Troy's family."

"Troy's from Queens?"

"Yeah," Tina smirked. "It's a fact he tries to conceal. Troy's from a family of plumbers and electricians. He's embarrassed by them."

"You married a snob?"

"He can be, sometimes. His family is wonderful, they love me, but there's always tension with him."

"Yeah, because he looks down his nose at them."

She squeezed his hand. "Hey, when you're free you should come to the gallery. How about Tuesday morning?" She aimed a purple fingernail at him. "You promised you'd visit my gallery next time you were in town."

"Okay." He rolled his eyes. "I'll come see your finger paintings and watercolors."

"Watercolors were last summer. This season's exhibit is abstract."

"Any Pollacks?"

"Yeah, right. I wish."

Joe's bandmates, Chico, PJ, and David showed up for a round of drinks just as Joe and T were finishing their early dinner. He reintroduced Tina. They made small talk while Joe charged the tab to his room.

"Our ride should be here in thirty minutes," Joe said. "I'm going up to my room to brush."

"I'm coming with," Tina said. "Can I borrow your brush?"

"Like our first date?"

"I guess so," she smiled, as they vacated their bar stools.

"Don't wear our boy out," Chico snickered. "We have to work tonight.." His bandmates tried to suppress their laughs.

Tina glared at them. "I'm married. You can stop tittering."

It took every ounce of Joe's willpower to not kiss her in the elevator. He watched the numbers pass, seven floors of sexual tension. In his room, she sat on the toilet peeing while he applied the paste to his brush.

"Do you recall the toothbrush rental fee from 1979?" He wet the brush.

"I do."

"Well, it's gone up quite a bit." He started brushing.

"We're not fooling around, Joe."

Joe spoke unintelligibly while he brushed. He spit, rinsed, and held his toothbrush out to her. She snatched it from his hand. When she finished brushing, Joe was standing a foot away. He leaned in. Tina paid the 1979 toothbrush rental rate, two kisses."

She put her hand on his chest. "That's it, Joe. We're not fooling around."

"Yes, Mrs. Giacomo."

Curbside on E. 76th Street, everyone piled into the limousine. PJ requested the driver take the long route, popped open a bottle of champagne, sparked up a fat joint, and passed it along. Tina watched Joe take a hit. When he handed it to her, she took a small puff.

"I thought you'd pass," he said.

"I do it on occasion," she said while coughing a bit. "The last time was at your Beacon show."

"Hey, guys. There's The Parkside Grille." Joe pointed out the window. "We had many late nights in that place."

"Or was it early morning?" asked T.

"Three o'clock is both."

"We should go to that grit joint in Harlem you bragged on," PJ suggested.

"The Bluebonnet Cafe," Joe said. "I didn't brag. It's just the first place I had grits."

"Do you think Gladys is still there?" asked Tina.

"I hope so. It would be great to see her again."

At Rockefeller Center, Tina was starstruck. She met most of the cast backstage. She and Joe walked freely around the set talking to Phil Hartman as the audience filed in. Hartman made Tina snort-laugh. Just before airtime, she leaned close to Joe.

"Julia asked me straight out if I was fucking you? I couldn't believe it."

"I hope you said yes."

"I didn't answer, so she wouldn't get any designs on you."

"Are you cock blocking me, Mrs. Giacomo?"

Tina punched Joe's arm. "I have to find my brother. I promised Jack I'd be at our seats before the show starts."

Joe pointed. "I'll meet you over there after the show. I'll come get you."

Roseanne and Tom Arnold hosted the show. During the monologue and through the early skits, Joe stood in the wings. He watched Tina as much as the show. Every time she laughed, his heart smiled. When the band performed, he was playing to an audience of one, in front of millions.

Al Franken wasn't very familiar with City of Angels, but he took a liking to Tina backstage after the show. Joe thought he was a little too friendly, feeling it necessary to intervene.

"Hey, Mrs. Giacomo, what do you say we blow this party and grab some grits."

Franken looked up at Joe. "Where do you go for grits in Manhattan?"

"Harlem, duh," Joe smirked. "PJ is hungry. When the big man needs to eat, we take care of business."

Franken took her hand. "Well Tina Giacomo, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"Take it easy, Al. Her husband's a made man," Joe said. "The Bonanno family."

"He is not," snapped T. "He works on Wall Street."

"That's right," laughed Joe. "He's a much bigger crook than the mafiosos."

Al laughed. Tina did not. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Franken."

"Please, call me Al."

Joe led her away. "He totally wants to bang you."

Tina smiled. "Yeah, he does. Are you jealous?"

*****

Joe asked the NBC limo to drive them up Broadway to Harlem. As they exited the limo in front of the diner, PJ expressed skepticism of NYC grits. Joe assured him they were legit.

"Gladys is from South Carolina. These aren't New York grits."

Standing in front of The Bluebonnet Cafe at 2:15 AM, PJ took in the surroundings.

"Shit, this ain't got nothin' on Detroit."

"Harlem isn't what it used to be," noted Tina. "They're revitalizing. It's not like the seventies."

Joe looked through the window to see if his old friend was working. There she was, fifty-five maybe, wearing the same light blue dress with dark blue embroidery and a white apron. He lingered back, behind the others, as they found a booth. He held his menu high when Gladys walked up.

"Hi y'all, can I get you coffee or something else to drink."

The group placed drink orders. Joe waited to go last. He answered from behind his menu.

"Yeah, I'll have black coffee, three sausage links, a big bowl of grits, extra butter, and for dessert," he paused, "a slice of lemon meringue pie."

That was his typical Bluebonnet order from 1979 through 1984. Joe lowered his menu. Gladys' eyes widened. She flashed her toothy smile.

"Holy Jesus." Her hands dropped to her side. "Hey, Carl! The skinny white boy came back, Joe."

She stared at Joe, stunned, then looked at the faces of his friends. She smiled at Tina.

"You kids are still a thing?"

"No," said Joe. "She dumped my ass and married another man."

Carl came around from behind the griddle wiping his hands on his greasy apron. "Holy moly. It's like a ghost from the eighties." He reached out and shook Joe's hand. "It's good to see you, son."

Gladys was staring at Joe, still stunned. He stood up and put his arms out.

She pulled him close. "Where have you been, boy. You just vanished."

"I live in Los Angeles, almost five years now."

"What in hell are you doing way out there?"

"This is my new band. Guys, this is Gladys, the grit queen of Manhattan."

"New York City," she corrected him. "All five boroughs, Long Island, and parts of New Jersey."

Carl laughed. "There's a lady from Mississippi upstate. That's her turf."

Joe introduced the band one by one. "Everyone's having grits, Carl. I hope you cooked a big batch."

"I never run out of grits, son." He gestured at his wife. "She'd whoop my ass."

After orders were taken, Gladys wore a huge smile as she told patrons at the counter that Joe was a grit virgin when they met. "What year was that, baby?"

"The summer of seventy-nine," Joe said half across the room.

"Oh my, that was a long time ago." She turned back to her regulars. "He used to come in every time his band was in town, for years. He'd drag along his motley crew of punks and groupies. What was the name of your band?"

"The Young Punks."

"Of course. It was as simple as that. They were all young punks."

Like she did on Joe's first visit, Gladys quietly observed as PJ and the crew tried her grits. She awaited their verdict. PJ decided to mess with her.

"We've played dozens of gigs down south," he said. "I've had my share of grits. I think the New Orleans grits and shrimp were creamier."

"That was the shrimp talking, honey," Gladys said with attitude. "No one makes creamier grits than me and Carl." She glared at PJ and walked away.

"Hey," A black guy about Joe's age called over from his booth. "You just played on Saturday Night Live - two hours ago." His date turned back and sized up the party.

"Oh my God," she yelped. "Yes, you're City of Angels."

The band had to manage a minor commotion as the woman explained to Gladys who Joe's band was. Gladys looked at Joe. He shrugged. The girl went to the jukebox and popped in coins. Twenty seconds later, the band's first hit, Gravity, was playing.

"I know this song," said Gladys. "This is you?"

Joe nodded. "That's an oldie from 1990."

"Hey, Carl," she shouted toward the kitchen. "The skinny white boy is in our jukebox." She turned back to Joe. "You played Saturday Night Live?"

"We did." He smiled. "It was a big night for us."

Gladys looked at Tina. "And you married another man?"

Tina looked away, out the window, without a word.

******

Monday morning, when Joe returned to The Carlyle after his meeting, there was a message waiting. He called Tina's office.

"Are you free for lunch?" she asked.

"Yeah, totally free."

"I don't want to wait 'til tomorrow to see you."

"Okay. Where do you want to go, The Parkside?"

"No, someplace we can have a drink. Bemelmans was nice. How about I meet you there in an hour?"

"That works for me."

Joe sat at the bar waiting for Tina. When she arrived, he got up to greet her with a hug, then pulled a bar stool out for her to sit. She leaned in very close, looked him square in the eyes, and made her intentions clear.

"Why don't we order room service?"

"I thought you said we weren't..."

"Never mind what I said," she said curtly. "Have your guy send martinis up to our room."

"Our room?"