PUNKS Ch. 05: Nineteen Seventy Nine

This is a flashback chapter to thirteen years earlier when Joe and Tina first met. There are no sex scenes. Tina was a good Catholic girl.

August 1979

Eighteen-year-old Joe Theroux was awakened by a conversation in an adjacent room. He looked at his travel clock - 9:50 AM. He had gone to bed at 5:55 after being out all night with his new best friend, Simon. To his left, his bass player, Sal, snored loudly on a dirty twin mattress. Joe sat up, listening to the conversation in the next room. One voice was Babe, the building superintendent, and maintenance man. The other, a young woman with a sweet, angelic voice.

To Joe's right, his drummer Nate slept with his hand down his pants. In the corner, curled up in the fetal position, was Johnny - lead guitarist. Joe's piss-hard-on screamed that he needed to hit the bathroom - now. That would give him the opportunity to check out who's sweet voice was singing to him.

He cracked the bedroom door open to see the backside of the angel. She had long, wavy purple hair and a cute ass. Joe crept out of the room. Babe shot him a dirty look. The girl noticed and turned to see who Babe was glaring at. Joe smiled and slipped into the bathroom.

"My nephew's band needed a place to crash for a few weeks," Babe explained. " I told him they could use that room. They'll be gone next week. Got it?"

As they continued talking, Joe peed in a bathroom with no door. The sound of piss loudly hitting toilet water distracted Babe, he stopped talking, then finished his thought.

"I'll get their stink out of that room, paint, and fix the window to the fire the escape before the fifteenth. Got it?"

She explained her situation to him while Joe kept pissing. "No hurry. I won't be moving in right away. I'll bring my things in gradually. The big move is on the 25th."

Joe was still pissing like a racehorse.

"Great," said Babe. "That gives me plenty of time."

When Joe zipped up, flushed, and emerged, her back was toward him. He side-stepped to get a better view. Babe gave him the stink eye. She glanced at Joe. He smiled too big. She smiled, turned away, and kept talking.

"My roommate's in Europe. She won't be back until Labor Day weekend. Let me look this lease over with my dad. If it's all good, I'll meet you back here on the fifteenth to sign."

She glanced at Joe again. He was admiring her. She looked away, fumbled with her papers, then looked at him again. Joe stood there rudely eavesdropping because he wanted to keep looking at this girl. He wanted to hear her young voice. Babe kept talking. Blah, blah, blah - got it? Blah, blah, blah - got it? Uncle Babe finished half his sentences with 'got it', making most things he said a rhetorical question.

She glanced at Joe again. "Do I know you?" she interrupted Babe. "I swear I've seen you before."

"I don't know, maybe you've seen our band play. Have you been to Tommy Guns?"

"Never heard of it.

"It's a club on 50th in Hell's Kitchen"

"Never been, maybe I saw your band someplace else?"

"We played Gravesend a few days ago."

"I'm from Brooklyn, I know it well, but haven't been there in months. Where else do you play?"

"The Belmont Cafe near Fordham."

"No, but I feel it wasn't long ago."

"Well, we're from Rhode Island, those are the only New York gigs we've done."

"Do you play in Boston?"

"Only at The Brickyard."

"OhmyGod. That's where I saw you, back in April. I was visiting my cousin at BU and she insisted I see this band she loves. The Young Punks, is that your band?"

"That's us. Did you like the show?"

"Are you kidding me?" She flashed her big toothy smile. "Gilligan's Island? The Flintstones? It was hilarious. You guys turn everything into punk rock. That show was the most fun I've had in a club in a long time. My cousin has seen you like... nine times."

She kept talking about her cousin, how much she loved The Punks, and how great the show was. Joe listened, smiling, while Babe grew annoyed.

"I love punk," she said, "but you guys are different - not too serious. The dance contests were so much fun. It's bizarre meeting you like this. What are the chances?"

"It's fate," Joe said. "I think we were meant to meet."

As they talked the rest of the band slowly emerged from the bedroom. The creeps in his band gave Joe's future girlfriend the up and down looks, checking out her perfect face but spending more time below the neck. Being a little protective; Joe moved to his left to obstruct their view.

"That April show was the first time we sold out The Brickyard. We always do well there, but it's a huge room. It was a crush front stage. We rocked that place."

"Yes you did," she smiled, "and I was in that crush."

Babe gave them an "Ah-hum" grunt to get her back to business.

She resumed talking with Uncle Babe while the guys took turns pissing loudly. Sal, Nate, and Johnny went outside the apartment to discuss food options in the hallway. Joe stayed with her, smitten. He loved everything about her.

Babe showed her some of the work he'd done in the nearly completed kitchen. Joe watched but didn't hear a word he said. She was distracted by Joe standing there. She smiled at him and then turned to Babe.

"Ya know, these guys can stay longer since I'm not moving in right away. I mean, If they want." She looked back at Joe.

That got everyone's attention. The band peaked inside the doorway like the Three Stooges: tall, medium, and short. Babe did not like her idea.

"Look, I can't let yous guys stay in that room. Got it? I need to clean your stink out of there and paint."

Nate stepped in. "We'll sleep in the living room, it's finished, and we don't stink much."

Babe wasn't convinced, shaking his head. "No."

Joe chimed in. "If she's paid rent and invites us, what's the problem?"

The girl smiled, "It's just a week."

Babe caved in, "Okay, I guess, but you bums are out before she moves in. Got it?"

Joe was doing cartwheels inside, considering the legitimacy of love at first sight. She was magnificent. Everything about her was a ten. Her purple hair - a ten, eyes - a ten, her big smile - a ten, and all that below the neck stuff - a flawless ten. Even the East German judge gave her a ten.

"That's cool Uncle Babe, thanks." Nate half hugged his uncle. No one else made that play. Babe had some nerve calling the band stinky.

Joe smiled at the girl, "You're a sweetheart for helping us. Having another week here is awesome. We can do more shows. Thank you."

She extended her hand with a smile, "I'm Tina. I'm an art major at NYU. Glad to help a fellow artist."

"I'm Joe, and I think I'm a fan of yours, Tina. I'm glad we met."

As Joe walked out the door to high fives from his bandmates, she asked, "Hey Joe, where did you say you're playing?"

"Twice a week at Tommy Guns in Hell's Kitchen, West 50th Street, near 9th. We're there tonight and Friday."

"Awww." She frowned. "I can't go tonight, but let me call a friend about Friday."

"I hope you can make it. I look forward to seeing you." He smiled too big again. "Just for the record, I really like your hair color, it's gorgeous."

"I like it too." She blushed. "Thanks."

"Hey Babe, give her the number to the place so she can call us," Nate suggested.

She smiled, "It's my apartment. I lived here last semester. I know the number." She turned to Joe. "I'll be seeing you soon, punk." - trying to sound tough, but failing.

Four punks stood on the sidewalk outside the building on Jones Street in the West Village. Joe felt he had to place a flag in the ground, stake his claim.

"That girl is mine. I saw her first, and I'm thinking she's feeling it for Joe."

"Did you just speak in the third person? Fucking idiot," said Nate.

"That girl is mine, you jamokes need to respect that. I'm not kidding."

"Not if she picks me," Johnny added with his cool smile. Joe missed that smile. It had been MIA for three weeks - on heroin.

*****

For the next three days Joe drove his band crazy with his non-stop talking about Tina: how beautiful she was, her fabulous purple hair, how friendly she was, and her kind generosity in offering them a longer stay in Manhattan.

"She's perfect. Her voice is music to my ears. Can you believe my luck? She's seen us play before. Tina's already a fan."

When they stopped listening, he pestered his favorite friend in New York, Simon McManus. Si was a Brit who recently graduated from NYU and decided to make a life in the states. He was a punk regular at Tommy Guns, and he adored Joe's band. He and Joe hit it off the night they met. They had become frequent late-night patrons of diners, drinking coffee, eating breakfast and pie, and talking endlessly about music.

"Wait 'til you meet this chick, Si. You're gonna be pissed that you didn't see her first. She's gorgeous."

"There are plenty of magnificent birds in Manhattan, my friend. She's not one in a million."

"But she is," Joe insisted. "I've never felt so right about someone in my life."

"Yeah, I get it, until you find her warts. They're all perfect at the beginning."

"When you meet her tomorrow night, you'll see for yourself." he paused. "If she doesn't show up, I'll slash my wrists on stage."

"Well," Simon snickered, "that'll be a closer Iggy won't top."

Simon was a guitarist, singer, and songwriter who could read and write sheet music since he was a child playing the piano. He switched to guitar at thirteen, much to his conservatory-minded mum's disappointment. His music major at NYU was half a ruse. Simon was in New York for music, punk rock music, and to escape the orbit of his proper English parents.

When The Young Punks opened their first gig in NYC with four straight covers of obscure U.K. punk bands, Simon was impressed. Once Joe opened his bag of tricks, playing pranks on the audience, conducting singalongs, and staging the Punk Chick Dance Contests - Simon was hooked. After the show, they walked to a diner at 2:00 AM and became fast friends.

*****

Friday night at Tommy Guns was a great gig. The crowd was bigger, louder, partying for the weekend. Joe made certain the guys knew this night was special.

He grabbed Johnny by the collar. "Don't fuck this up. I need you to be good."

The band had several rough gigs that summer with Johnny showing up stoned, barely able to get the job done. He was the only dark cloud in an otherwise great stay in New York. As the band set up, Joe gazed over the crowd looking for purple hair. It was packed front to back, standing room as always. He was certain she'd seek him out if she made the show. He walked to the bar for a beer, looking at every face in the crowd.

A middle-aged man at the bar approached Joe and introduced himself. He explained that he ran a small recording studio in Chelsea. "I was here last week. Your band is very good. I'd like you to visit my studio. We can talk. Maybe someday we can record." He handed Joe his business card. "If you're interested."

"Sure. I'll come by for a visit. We're here another ten days. I'll call you."

Joe was distracted, half talking to the guy and half looking off into the crowd in search of his girl. He told the guy I had to get on stage.

"It was nice meeting you," Joe said. "I have to get up and do my job."

As he walked up, he glanced at the card - Marty Cohen, a man who would one day become a mentor to Joe.

The band opened the set hard with The Damned and The Sex Pistols. The punk crowd was in good form. Four songs in, Joe saw purple hair and a denim jacket pushing through the crowd. His heart saw her first. They made eye contact, exchanged smiles and Joe experienced a mini-panic attack.

"What the fuck?" he thought, as he noticed she was leading a guy by the hand through the crowd. "Seriously? What the fuck?"

Tina's eyes locked into Joe from twelve feet away and never broke the gaze. Her boy pal was into Joe too. They barely looked at Sal or Johnny. He felt he was being visually stalked. It was hot and kind of weird at the same time.

That's when Joe remembered her from Boston. The denim jacket with band patches was the clue: Ramones, The Police, Talking Heads, and The Kinks - Joe's favorite band. Her hair was shorter and brunette back then. That night in Boston, she eye-stalked him all night.

Between sets, Joe pulled them aside and slipped in the back alley so her boyfriend could have a smoke. Henri was French, an NYU student who lived on the upper east side with his U.N. diplomat parents. Most importantly, he was gay and Tina was not, nor did she have a boyfriend. That news made Joe's night. Henri went back inside leaving them alone.

Joe nudged Tina. "Thanks for bringing a guy and making me think you had a boyfriend. That sucked."

"Awww. Sorry. He's my gay boyfriend from art school."

"He seems cool."

"Henri loves your band. He saw you here a few weeks ago."

"Are you in favor or against walking the streets in the wee hours in search of coffee and pie?"

Tina looked at him funny, "Who talks like that?"

"A songwriter?" He shrugged. "We go out for pie and coffee after shows."

"I love pie and coffee." she sighed

"You're the girl of my dreams."

Joe had a smile tattooed on his face every minute he spent with this lovely young lady. She was different. What he felt was not his casual, play it safe, no-commitment self. He wanted to know everything about her. They went back inside so Joe could fulfill his workplace obligations.

As Joe opened the door for Tina, she leaned against him. "This place is wild, so small and packed tight. It's really loud. I love it."

She sang along loud with her big smile on every singalong. Joe picked Tina for the dance contest but she lost. The other chick was more of a naughty stripper than a dancer. Tina was smooth, sultry, and sexy. He liked it.

When he offered the winner her prize, the T-shirt off his back if she could take it, the crowd roared at the spectacle of a drunk chick wrestling the shirt away from Joe. He resisted, making her fight for her prize. This stunt was a once or twice-a-night ritual at Young Punks shows. Joe gave away a half dozen of his shirts every week. Replenishing his wardrobe was a part-time day job.

Shirtless Joe took a bow. "You can see Chastity at the Boom Boom Room on 42nd street in about three hours."

They had a great show, drank at the bar afterward, and planned their nightly pie mission.

"Who's up for pie tonight?" Joe asked a bar full of punks.

Hands went up. Joe counted heads. "Simon, Johnny, Zip, Sunny, Monk, Clyde, Judy, Tina, and Henri." He raised his pint glass. "Nine brave souls shall venture into the dark steamy night."

Tina tugged on his leather. "Are you a weirdo? Who talks like that?"

Joe: "I might be."

"He's definitely a weirdo," Simon added.

*****

Joe carried his leather as they walked from 50th to 59th Street - nine sets of footsteps and nine voices. Joe talked to and listened to one. He knew next to nothing about this woman yet he wanted to know everything. Tina walked between Henri and Joe, Simon to his left. A gaggle of five punks, including Johnny, behind them. He was surprised Johnny came. He'd been skipping late-night eats to get high.

Tina leaned on Joe. "This is kind of cool, a big group at 1:45 just walking and talking."

"It gets way better, pie and talking, and then more walking - maybe breakfast at dawn."

They occupied the middle of the street when possible, sidestepping cars as they honked their horns.

"I've never done anything like this," she said. "I'm a home by 1:00 girl."

Joe replied. "I'm a home by seven AM guy." - which made her laugh.

The nine sat in three booths, one across from the other two. They were the 2:05 AM rush for The Parkside Diner: five breakfasts, six slices of pie, and lots of coffee. The punk party got a little loud, with lots of storytelling, and laughing. Joe had lemon meringue, she had cherry pie and Henri had a slice of Joe didn't care. He was a nice guy with a pleasant French accent. He loved New York and punk.

"Your band is unique," he said, "something new. I like you very much."

"Maybe we're something old, like Vaudeville"

"Excellent. That is good, very good." Henri had a nice smile too.

After pie, Tommy's regulars went their way and five walked together at 3:10. The pleasant Frenchman bid them adieu and turned north at Central Park West leaving four walkers.

"You should see Henri's parent's apartment," Tina said. "They're loaded."

"I didn't know diplomats were rich."

"It's old money."

Joe could sense that Johnny dug Tina, so did Simon, but not in the same way. A few blocks later, Johnny jumped on a subway, in a hurry to get stoned. At 3:30 it was Joe, Tina, and Si. Joe liked that Simon made her laugh by talking extra British, playing up his accent. He found that funny too. At 3:40 it was Simon's turn to peel off.

"No, Si," Joe pleaded, "this is a breakfast day. C'mon."

Joe begged him to stay hoping he would leave. Si knew that and shoved him for it. Simon left with his wristwatch. They were suddenly without time.

"We had pie at 2:30 so we should be good until breakfast." He informed my new best friend in New York.

"Are we having breakfast?" Tina asked. "That's a bit presumptuous."

Joe declared loudly. "Only if you're stout of heart and at my side to the bitter end,"

"No seriously, who talks like this?" She furrowed her brow.

Joe let her talk. They passed a jewelry store clock at 4:12. She kept talking and walking. A bakery clock informed Joe it was 4:21. Tina decided they would play a game of twenty questions,

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

She punched him. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Three sisters."

"How's that working for ya?"

"I'm the oldest, so it's fine. I haven't seen them in weeks. I miss them."

"What do your mom and dad do?"

"Dad's a machinist and mom's a nurse."

"Do you have any pets?"

"No. Our dog died when I was eleven. We never got another."

"Do you sleep with a lot of girls?

Tina made the I-know-this-is-embarrassing face for asking.

Joe thought, "Whoa, where the fuck did that come from?" - but didn't say it.

"Wow, you're a tough first date," he said. "You just slipped that loaded question in the middle of the mundane."

He made Tina laugh, which made him happy. He loved her laugh.

"Define a lot," he said. "It's a vague concept."

"Don't be a smart ass," she punched his arm. "I'm serious."

Joe laughed: "Sister if you don't like smart asses you better get off this ride now."

There was a silent pause, only their 4:48 AM footsteps in front of a pawn shop made a sound, except for distant sirens and the sound of light traffic. Joe wondered if he had dodged that question.

"My question stands." She leaned against him to stress that point."

"I will answer truthfully, stop me when you've heard enough."

"Okay," she said sweetly.

"I've never had a one-night stand in my life."

Tina stopped walking and leaned back with the "Really?" body language. She didn't say a word, just leaned on him again - thinking.

"So you're a girlfriend guy? Is that it?"

"Yeah, that's it, sort of."

"Do you have one now?"

"Well, there's this super cute punk chick I met recently - and I'm kind of hoping."

"That's nice to know. I'm hoping too." She leaned against him again

Joe stopped walking. "Oh, did you think I was talking about you? I'm so sorry. Ouch, that's embarrassing."

Tina punched him. "Oh my god, you're such a jerk!" She pushed him away.

Joe continued walking, cracking up because he stuck the landing perfectly on that joke.

"Just to let you know upfront," he said. "I'm the class clown."

"Great, just what I fucking need."

"Who else would come up with the show we do? It has to be the clown."