PUNKS Ch. 32: Just Own It

Joe had a busy day planned between Morningside Heights and his late afternoon flight out of Laguardia, an ambitious plan to hit two bars. Doc Jorgensen had invited Joe out for lunch, which meant drinks in Doc's native tongue.

The day before, when Joe told Mila of the invitation, she was jealous.

"Doc has never invited me to lunch," she whined.

"Am I supposed to feel bad about that?"

"No. It's just not like Doc. He drinks alone. Doc doesn't have many friends. He tries, but eventually, he'll find something about you that is intolerable and he cannot suffer through it."

"Think about it, Mila. Doc is just like the miserable geezers at The Surfside. I can handle old old drunks. I speak their language. Doc is a bully in that he uses his cranky nature and nasty verbal jabs to intimidate. That's his forcefield. It keeps people away. I can handle bullies too."

"And what do you plan on doing to penetrate that forefield?"

"I've already done it. He invited me to lunch. I want to get to the bottom of this Doc vs Martin cold war. Maybe I can convince Doc to sit down and talk with Martin."

"Martin won't sit with Doc either, so you'll need to use your diplomatic charm on both parties."

"I suspect he's the easier of the two. I'll start with Doc."

"If you can get those two men in the same room and they actually resolve this old feud, I will be so happy. I love them both and wish they were friends."

"If I succeed," Joe smiled, "you will owe me a great debt of gratitude."

Mila kissed him. "A debt I will gladly pay. It will be the Nobel Prize for anything you desire."

During his final hours in the city, Joe had two expeditions, one diplomatic and the other discovery. He arrived at Doc's place, an Irish pub on the upper west side... on Amsterdam Ave. Close your eyes and imagine an Irish pub in an eastern city... that's Flanny's; dark wood, lots of green decors, and Irish crap on the walls, not low end, not high end. Doc swore by the Fish & Chips... Joe's childhood Catholic comfort food.

Joe found Doc at a table against the wall opposite the bar, drinking alone, ignoring the seven patrons at the bar. There was an empty tumbler in front of him as the waitress delivered his second. Doc pointed at Joe. Joe looked at the waitress, a middle-aged woman who probably has too many kids. She had a rough life written on her face, and so did Doc for that matter.

"I'll have a pint of Guinness and a shot of Jameson."

"Good man." Doc raised his drink, an Irish whiskey, double, neat. "You must have the whiskey with your Guinness."

Joe set his traveling bags down on a chair and sat in the chair opposite Doc. "So, you're Norwegian and Swedish but you claim to be Irish. That's what Mila says."

"I drink like an Irishman, I write like an Irishman, I'm depressed like an Irishman, but I fuck like a Viking. I'm three-quarters Irish, all between the ears."

The moment Joe's Guinness and whiskey appeared, he put that shot down hard and took a long tug off that pint of creamy stout. He called to the waitress as she was leaving, "Set us up again and I'll have the fish and chips."

Doc smiled. Joe knew slamming booze and ordering a second round would win the old drunk's heart. If you know unrepentant alcoholics, and Joe knows many, few things impress them more than men who can hold their liquor. It is a badge of honor and a means of measuring men. Joe also had a plane to catch and another bar to visit between Flanny's Pub and JFK. So, Joe went straight to diplomacy.

"Hey. I was talking to Mila last night and she was telling me how upsetting it is that you are Martin hate each other. We were thinking you guys should..."

"What the fuck is this? I invite you for a drink and you want to pry into my personal shit?"

"I'm speaking more for Mila..."

"She should speak for herself." Doc grumbled, paused, and made Joe an offer. "Okay, I'll tell you about Marty and me, and why I loathe that old queer. And you tell me about that purple-haired tart you played kissy face with at The Garden." Doc smiled mischievously at Joe. "That's the story I want to write."

Joe smiled at Doc, the old Jedi. When Joe challenged him, Doc had a precision, laser-quick, light saber sharp response. He cut Joe down. There was no retort.

"Yeah. No." Joe said lowly. "I won't be sharing that."

Doc cough-laughed, reaching for his cigarettes. "I didn't... fucking... think so."

Joe enjoyed the fish and chips, three pints, and three shots. Doc didn't dine but nursed a few more whiskeys as they talked. Joe liked Doc and he sensed the old sixties radical-turned-nineties crank liked him back. He walked out with a good buzz, his backpack, and a carry-on. Joe hopped on the number 1 subway for the West Village, 14th St. Station, embarking on an expedition to prove the existence of a glory hole.

-- Slipped Through My Fingers --

The day after meeting Mila, while Joe was having drinks with an old man, Tina called Jenna to her office. She was not in a good state of mind.

"I had him, Jenna," Tina held her cupped palms up. "right here. We were planning a rendezvous in Miami. We had specific plans to fuck for when he comes here next. I didn't know which would happen first, but we were so close."

Jenna stared at Tina, "You never had him, T. He's in California. You're still fucking married. These are fantasy phone calls you're sharing. He's vulnerable and you're taking advantage of him. You've done it before and you're doing it again."

"I'm not taking advantage of him. I'm trying to help him?"

"But you're not." Jenna lowered her tone. "If you had him right here," Jenna cupped one palm. "He never would have fucked Mila. When you have Joe in your hands, T, he's loyal to you, and he fucks only you."

Tina stared at Jenna, completely grasping her point, and not arguing, but still delusional. "He slipped through my fingers, Jen. I never should have told him to do that interview. What the fuck was I thinking? Of course he was going to fuck her. It's what he does!"

"I get it. You're talking and having fun and you think that's real. Did you ever consider the possibility that Joe is just playing along to humor you?"

"No, because he's not messing with me anymore. He's been sweet and we're having great talks. I just can't believe he'd make these plans with me and then fucks this journalist."

"Because he's not yours, T. You're married. Let him go."

Tina slumped in her chair. "I can't Jen. I need Joe. You just don't get it."

"Oh, I get it. I definitely understand."

-- Unhappy Hour --

Thirty hours after cocktail hour, Joe sat by the phone. It did not ring. He did the same the following night, falling asleep with the lights on. When Tina failed to call on Monday morning, he knew the meeting with Mila was not good for T. He had to decide if he should call her, or not. He chose to call Jenna.

"Nope," Jenna said, "She did not enjoy our unhappy hour with Mila, and neither did I."

"I'll ask why, even though I suspect it's just stupid jealousy."

"It's that, for sure, but it's like she was with Jasmine. Tina sees you with this beautiful woman and she imagines you having babies with her. Did Mila tell you about her talk with Tina in the ladies lounge?"

"Yes, she did, but I suspect I got the cliffnotes of that exchange. They were in there for a long time, remember?"

"Oh yes. It made you nervous."

"Yes it did." Joe looked at Jen with a smirk. "I thought I was missing the cat fight."

Jen rolled her eyes and exhaled. "Tina is totally intimidated by her. That fucking accent, Joe. She's gorgeous, and then she opens that mouth and fuck, I wanna do her."

"Well, Mila is bisexual, so you might have a shot."

"She is?"

"Yup. I had dinner with her ex, a lovely lady."

"Well. Tina is in a panic. She believes she had you right where she wanted you and Mila has fucked that all up?"

"Just for the record, Jen. Is Tina still married?"

"Yes, but that didn't stop you from making vacation plans to Miami with her. So you'll have to excuse her if she's a little confused."

Joe didn't reply.

"Well, Joe. Were you planning on fucking Tina in Miami?"

"I was thinking about it. Honestly, I didn't believe she would do it. I was going along with her scheme to see if she would go that far."

"And what if she had booked flights? Would you have gone to Florida to fuck her."

"Yeah. I mean. if she was willing to do that for me I wouldn't want to hurt her by pulling out."

"She's very upset that you're waffling on that promise. Are you backing out?"

"I don't know."

"So this thing with Mila is serious enough that you won't fuck Tina?"

"I don't know, Jen. I'm trying to figure this out."

"That's a good thing, Joe. Figure it out, and whatever you do, don't fuck Tina.'

-- Jilted Again ---

When Tina finally called, it went precisely as Joe expected. She was emotional; hurt, frustrated, and maybe angry. When Tina gets herself wound up, it's hard to decipher her emotions.

"You spent a week in my city and didn't think to tell me. I called you Monday morning and left a message. I called Tuesday night and left a message. I was practically in tears when I left the last message on Wednesday. I thought something was terribly wrong, and I was right. You were just up the street from me fucking Mila Carrera!"

Joe knew this torrent of emotion was coming. On the flight from Laguardia to LAX he was thinking ahead to how he would respond to Tina's hurt. He decided to offset her manic emotions with calm... and the right words.

"I'm sorry, T. I was there on business first. We devised a plan to disarm Levine and the hyenas who are chasing this story by feeding them red meat. I had to be there to make it happen."

"How do you think I felt when I saw you kissing her on the sidewalk with the caption, Joe Theroux and his girlfriend Mila Carrera?"

"Joe kept his voice calm. "Baby, I was thinking about how you would feel before I did it, after I did it, and on the flight home. I knew this entire plan would upset you."

"Hurting me didn't stop you."

"I had to make a decision. Should I tell you upfront and deal with your feelings? Then I would fly out for this PR stunt and deal with your feelings again after the story hits the newsstand. I decided to face your feelings once... when it's all over. I chose the easy way out for me. Sorry."

"You want me to believe you were thinking of me while you were with Mila, just up the street making out in front of the Paparazzi?"

"Not at that moment. I was trying to make sure they got good photos that were obviously me and Mila. Operational necessities overruled my long-term considerations. Please trust me, Tina, the worst thing about doing this thing was knowing it was going to hurt you."

Tina inhaled and exhaled audibly, her tone lowered, "Are you going to see her again?"

"Probably. She wants to come back to California when the weather gets cold in New York. She has work assignments for the next three issues and a trip back home to Spain."

"Is Mila your girlfriend, Joe?"

Joe had to make another decision. He could continue playing Mister Nice Guy and tell Tina that Mila and he were still unsure, or he could give her a version that was closer to the truth. Mila saying ' I love you' was his guiding light.

"I don't know, T. Until I do know, I don't think I'm taking any trips to Miami. I have to figure out what Mila and I are."

"Oh, my God! Seriously? You're trashing our vacation so you can figure out if you're in love. I can't believe you're doing this to me."

Joe exhaled, "Well, T. You're still married. I would love a weekend with you to do everything we desire. I want to look into your eyes while I fuck you. It would be amazing. But not if it means I lose someone I can actually be with for real, not just an affair."

"This is so unfair."

"So. I take it you didn't like Mila."

"Not a lot."

Joe felt terrible after Tina hung up but he wasn't going to allow her to manipulate him with emotions, guilt, or sex. For five months he was as kind and honest as he could be. They shared long-distance intimacy, memories, playful lust, and dirty little secrets. In some ways, Joe and Tina were closer than ever.

This thing with Mila just happened. Joe didn't plan it. He was living his life, sadly at times, and something wonderful happened. He had to just own it, and welcome something good in his life. He did not owe Tina an explanation or an apology. She was still married.

Still, he felt genuine pain about how this played out for Tina and the hurt she felt. He also regretted that he didn't have the opportunity to tell T the results of his glory hole expedition. That would have to wait for a late-night call, during playtime, when she was in better spirits.

It would be a while. Tina stopped calling.