—-- AUGUST 1979 —--
Joe 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 an out-all-nighter with Simon. To his left, Sal snored loudly on a dirty twin mattress. Joe sat up, listening to the conversation in the next room. One person was Uncle Babe. The other was a young woman with a sweet, angelic voice.
To Joe’s right, Nate slept with his hand down his pants. In the corner, curled up in the fetal position, Johnny drooled. Joe’s piss-hard-on screamed that he needed to hit the bathroom - now! He slipped his jeans on thinking he could check out whose 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 little ass. Joe crept out of the room. Babe shot him a dirty look. The girl noticed and turned to see who Babe was scowling at. Barefoot 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 before you need the place. 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 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 hard.
“Great,” said Babe. “That gives me plenty of time to finish up.”
The girl glanced toward the bathroom behind her.
Joe was still pissing, distracting, and annoying the building super. “The place will be ready long before the 25th.”
When Joe zipped up, flushed, and emerged, her back was toward him. He side-stepped to get a better view. Babe gave him a wicked stink eye, lingering contempt. She glanced at Joe. He smiled too big. She smiled, turned away, and kept talking.
“My roommate’s in Europe. Lana won’t be back until Labor Day weekend, just before her first class. 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 admired her with a faint smile. 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?”
She glanced at Joe again. “Do I know you?” she interrupted Babe. “I swear I’ve seen you before.”
“I don’t know,” he was so happy she spoke to him. “Maybe you’ve seen our band play. Have you been to Tommy’s?”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s a club on 50th in Hell’s Kitchen”
“Never been.” She pondered. “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.”
Joe noted Babe’s annoyance. He was not giving this girl back to him. “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.”
“Oh, my God!” She smiled cutely and did a little bounce. “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.” Joe couldn’t believe his luck. “Did you like the show?”
“Are you kidding me?” She flashed her big toothy smile. “Gilligan''s Island? The Flintstones? It was hilarious. 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 and how much she loved The Punks and how great the show was. Joe listened, smiling, while Babe grew more irritated than he was a minute ago.
“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’re meant to be.”
She gasped and half laughed. “Are you seriously using that line?”
“It’s not a line.”
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 it that night.”
“Yes you did,” she smiled, “and I was in that crush.”
Babe gave the kids an “Ah-hum.” grunt to get her back to business.
The girl blushed and returned to lease talk with Uncle Babe while the guys took turns pissing loudly. One by one, they pissed for all to hear. She giggled at times. 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 after the fifteenth, what’s the problem?”
The girl smiled, “It’s just a week.”
Babe looked at the floor, grunted something incoherent, and 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, awkwardly. 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.”
Joe slipped into the bedroom to put on his sneakers while Babe and Tina finished their business, then walked into the hallway to high-fives from his bandmates. As he stood near the doorway, she asked, “Hey Joe, where did you say you’re playing?”
“Twice a week at Tommy’s 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 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. Joe felt he had to plant a flag in the ground and 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?” Nte shook his head. “Fucking idiot.”
“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.
—-- BACK UP PLAN —--
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 best friend in New York, Simon. They sat at the end of the bar at Tommy’s, mid-day, the day drinking punks across the way.
“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 Pop won’t top.”
Joe raised his hand, “Hey, Tommy! Set everyone up on my tab.” Five punks cheered half-heartedly. Simon slapped Joe on the back.
“When are you gonna pay that tab?” Tommy asked.
“When you pay me for the next job.”
“Great, all fives and singles.”
“It’s legal tender. If you don''t accept US currency, the debt is considered paid.”
“Is that true?” Simon asked.
“I read it somewhere,” Joe shrugged. “It must be true.”
Tommy popped open bottles for punks and poured drafts for Joe and Si. Joe leaned in as Tommy delivered their pints. “Why do these guys drink from a bottle when you have beer on tap? It’s fucking stupid.”
“It’s cheaper,” Tommy asked. He smiled, “They’re not rolling naked in cash like you.”
“I’m not rolling. This summer has cost me. We could have made a lot more money at the beach, and it’s not even close.”
Simon waved his arm, “And then you wouldn’t have made these fine acquaintances in this posh establishment.”
“Si, there are no girls in bikinis here. Like I said, it’s not even close.”
Simon and Joe sipped fresh pints. Joe looked at his best British bloke. “And Johnny wouldn’t be fucked up on smack.”
A long silence followed. Joe wanted to take the conversation to a place Simon was not comfortable with. He tried once, but Si shut him down.
“Look, you need to think about what I said. I’m not asking you to get on stage. I’m asking you to learn our songs. That’s all. I honestly believe Johnny is going to fuck off on us. It’s coming, and I don’t want that to be the end of The Young Punks. I need a backup plan.”
“I’ve thought about it since you last asked,” Si stared at his pint in front of him. “I can do that but I will not cross Sal.”
“Look,” Joe said, “If I tried to bump off Johnny for you Sal would beat my ass. And I would never do that to Johnny. I love that guy. He was the best of us before this trip. You never got to know the Johnny I know.”
“You said that before.”
“Because it’s true. I would only ask you to step up if Johnny fucks off on us, leaving me with gigs and no lead guitar.” Joe turned to meet Simon’s eyes. “At that point, Sal’s denial should be dead.”
Days later, Joe gave Simon a list of forty songs, just the first list. Simon McManus was a multi-instrumental, conservatory-trained musician with a degree in music from NYU. He could read music. Not one of The Young Punks could read sheet music. Simon learning their set was like having Einstein doing grade school math.
The odd thing was, that Joe had never seen or heard him play guitar. He simply trusted what Simon told him.
—-- WAITING ON A FRIEND —--
Friday night at Tommy Guns was a great gig. The crowd was bigger and 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.”
At that moment, Joe felt like shit. He looked up to Johnny, his mentor on guitar and the coolest guy in the band. Now he was just sad. It hurt Joe to feel resentment towards Johnny. He had to stuff those feelings down and get to work.
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 wasted no time with small talk. “I was here last week. Your band is very good. I run a small studio just up the street in Chelsea. I’d like you to come for a visit. We can talk.” He handed Joe his business card. “If you’re interested in recording, I can help.”
Joe was distracted, half talking to the guy and half looking off into the crowd in search of his girl. The man sensed he wasn’t getting Joe’s full attention.
“Sure. I’ll come by for a visit,” Joe said. “I’ll call you.”
They stood in an awkward silence.
“It was nice meeting you,” Joe finally said. He pointed at the stage. “I have to get up and do my job.”
“I hope to hear from you.”
As he walked towards the stage, he glanced at the card - Marty Cohen.
The band opened the set hard with The Damned and The Sex Pistols. The punk crowd was in good form. Joe was not 100%. He was distracted. He fidgeted between songs, scanning the crowd. Four songs in, he saw purple hair and a denim jacket pushing through the crowd. His heart saw her first. They made eye contact and exchanged smiles, then 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. Joe liked her eye makeup, purple eyeliner in the Nefratiti style. Her boy pal was into Joe too. They barely looked at Sal or Johnny. After a song of near full eye contact, Joe felt he was being visually stalked by two people, and one was a dude. It was hot and kind of weird at the same time.
In a flash of memory, it struck him. Joe remembered her from Boston. The eyeliner and her denim jacket with band patches were the clues: Ramones, The Police, Talking Heads, and The Kinks - Joe’s favorite sixties band. Her hair was shorter and brunette back then, and her eye makeup was darker. That night in Boston, she eye-stalked him all night. He remembered the jacket and the eyes.
Between sets, Joe pulled the couple aside and slipped them to 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.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.“Henri loves your band. He saw you here two weeks ago.”
“Cool.” Joe shuffled his feet, like a schoolboy with a crush. He half blurted out, “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 sheepishly. “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. He was captivated. She was different. What he felt was not his casual play-it-safe 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, small and so packed tight. It’s really loud. I love it.”
Joe smiled. “Don’t tell the fire marshall. This show is totally illegal.”
She sang along loudly 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’s moves were smooth, sultry, and sexy. He liked it. They were in Hell’s Kitchen. The crowd voted for the trashy dancer.
When he offered the winner her prize, the T-shirt off his back if she could take it, he put up less resistance. He wanted to wrestle Tina, but the crowd denied him. Disappointed, he phoned in the rest of the bit.
Shirtless Joe took a bow. “You can see Chastity at the Boom Boom Room on 42nd Street in about three hours.”
The crowd laughed and cheered. Joe felt he owned this club now, every gig was better than the last. Tommy’s people loved the punk rock carnival. Joe ended with Gilligan’s Island and a new closing song, White Punks On Dope. It was a good ending jam.
Joe leaned into Tina at the bar. “We have one beer, one shot, and we hit the streets.” He turned to the punks. “Who’s up for pie tonight?”
“Why do you always say pie?” Simon asked. “You’re the only twat who eats pie. We get breakfast.”
Joe poked Simon’s leather as if he was picking a fight. “I’m going out for pie and I’m inviting you. What you wankers get is not my concern.” Joe turned to Tina. “This is my favorite person in …” Joe hesitated. “Oh shit, Simon. You just got demoted.” He smiled at Tina. “This is my second favorite person in New York.”
“Simon, this is Tina.” Joe looked over the bar. “Alright, who’s dining tonight?”
Hands went up. Joe counted heads. “Simon, Johnny, Zip, Sunny, Monk, Clyde, Judy, Tina, and Henri.” Joe 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?”
“I might be.”
“He’s a weirdo,” Simon added.
—-- SIX PIES —--
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 tagged along.
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 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.”
“I’m a home by 7 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.
Joe poked Simon “Six pies. I’m not the only twat.”
“But you ordered three slices.”
“But not six.”
The punk party got a little loud, with lots of storytelling, and laughing. Joe had lemon meringue and peach with vanilla ice cream, Tina 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, and so did Simon, but not in the same way. A few blocks later, Johnny jumped on a subway, off 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 his new best friend in New York.
“We’re having breakfast?” Tina asked. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous?”
“I presume nothing!” Joe declared loudly. “I will be having breakfast. Only if you’re stout of heart and at my side to the bitter end will you accompany me.”
“No seriously, who talks like this?” She furrowed her brow. “You’re most certainly strange. We have a lot of that in the art department.”
She went on about the eclectic crew at NYU, her artsy friends, and rivals. 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 smartasses 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 query 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?”
Joe paused, thinking of how he could never explain his girl trouble to this young lady and survive the first date. He had another angle to play.
“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 and resumed walking. Joe did not. She looked back.
Joe winced, “Oh, did you think I was talking about you? I’m so sorry. Ouch,” he smirked. “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 a clown.”
“Great, just what I fucking need.”
“Who else would come up with the show we do? It has to be the clown.”
“Anything else I need to know.”
“I’m a wise guy too.”
Joe stopped walking at 4:59 in front of The Little Apple Diner in Chelsea. She frowned when she saw it was closed. Joe looked at his naked wrist as if he had a timepiece and then made eye contact with Tina. A man flipped the sign and unlocked the door. Joe smiled and held the door open.
“After you.”
They sat in a corner booth. Joe picked up a menu. “Now we must make the most important decision of this young day, pie or breakfast with my coffee?”
“Why can’t we have both?”
He smiled. “You truly are the girl of my dreams.”
Tina smiled, then hid her blushing with her menu.
“Can you do me a favor, T?”
She peeked over her menu. “It depends on what”
“Stop punching me.”
“I’ll try.”
She ordered blueberry pie. Joe ordered breakfast.
Joe put his menu on the rack. “Okay, T. My turn to ask questions.”
“Shoot.” She smiled while stirring her coffee.
“What’s the deal with the Costello family?”
Tina put her spoon down and took a small sip of fresh hot diner coffee.
“Dad’s a Kennedy Democrat, a city councilman in Brooklyn. Mom owns a flower shop. I have a brother in high school, he’s almost 16.”
“Do they have names?”
“Yes, John, Mary, and Jack.”
“Pets?”
“Mom has two cats, they’re okay but I prefer dogs. Our Spaniel died a few years ago.”
“I assume you’re a stinking Catholic.”
“Yes, my family is very Catholic. Is that a problem?”
“Big problem,” he said loudly. “I was raised Catholic. It’s a crazy religion, lots of bad history.”
“I don’t worship history.”
“What kind of art do you do?”
“I’m a mixed media artist.”
“What’s that?”
“Combining materials and methods. I’m primarily a photographer. Dad bought me my first camera for my twelfth birthday. I shoot mostly black and white. The city is my subject, the people, the architecture - I love my city.” She took another sip of coffee. “I’m also a painter. I take select prints, enlarge them, and transfer the image to canvas. Then I add color and texture with paint.”
“That sounds kinda unique.” Joe sipped his coffee.
“There are millions of photographers,” she said. “I like having my special spin.”
“When can I see your art? I’m curious about this mixed media thing.”
“When I move in I’ll show you some.”
Joe’s face turned serious. “What if you’re a shitty artist? I need to know that now before we get too involved.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you fucking insane?”
Joe smiled mischievously as the waitress delivered food. They shared, with Tina stealing most of his home fries. It was Joe’s favorite breakfast date of many recent breakfast dates.
“I forgot to ask,” Tina said. “What are your sisters'' names?”
“Jacqueline, Juliette, and Jeanette.”
“And Joseph?” She leaned over the table. “Are you serious?”
He shrugged. “I know.”
“I make fun of families like that. We have a K family on my street and there was a B family in high school. Why do they do that?”
“I guess we’re the J family.”
At 6:30 AM, Brooklyn seemed far away, especially after Tina had been up all night. The second bedroom in the apartment was cleared and painted. Joe insisted she stay in that room rather than take the train back alone. He slid his mattress into that room for her to use.
“These mattresses Babe got us are disgusting. I got the worst one. The stain looks like a fucking crime scene.” Joe shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got but at least I have linen for it.”
He smiled and turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
He gestured with his thumb. “I’m in that room.”
“No, you can stay with me,” she said. “It’s not like I’m taking clothes off on a murder mattress.”
They shared a twin mattress. Nothing happened except the fully clothed, tangled closeness of sleeping together and the feeling this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Joe awoke at the crack of noon because Babe was working in the bathroom. The old man gave Joe the side-eye when he emerged from the room with his cute tenant. Joe got goosebumps feeling awkwardness between Tina and Babe. He didn’t care. Joe got the girl.
Tina explained her decorating plans for when she moved in. When she was passionate about something, like art and decorating, she talked fast. It was cute… like someone wound her up.
Babe glared at Joe as he vacated the bathroom for them to use. “I’m going down to my truck.” Joe smiled as if to say, ‘Look at me with your cute tenant.’ He turned to Tina. “You realize there is no food here?”
She shrugged. “I guess we have to walk the streets again.”
“I need to brush my teeth.” Joe made a yucky facial gesture and stepped into the bathroom.
“I do too.” Tina winced. “Can I use your brush? Please?”
Joe shot her an I-don’t-know-about-that look as he squeezed the toothpaste. While he brushed his teeth Joe answered her question so she couldn’t understand a word he said. He brushed for a long time, mumbling all the while, making her wait.
He spit into the sink and said. “So that’s what I think about sharing toothbrushes.”
She got the joke but pretended she wasn’t amused. Tina stared at him with her hand out assuming he was just going to hand it over.
“Didn’t you hear what I said? You must agree to my terms.”
“What terms?”
“I just told you,” he said. “I believe toothbrush sharing is equal to kissing on the intimacy scale. Would you share a toothbrush with someone you wouldn’t kiss? You can only use my toothbrush if you kiss me. I prefer after you brush. Thank you very much.”
“You’re queer,” She took the brush from his hand. “But I agree to your terms.”
“I can’t believe I’m giving up my toothbrush on the first date. I’m such a dirty whore.”
It was a good kiss, as was the second and the third. At that moment, T became Joe’s undisputed best friend. They walked hand in hand to The Skyline Diner in the West Village for a long lunch, their third diner visit in twelve hours. Then Tina went home to Brooklyn and Joe took a nap on cloud nine.
—-- BROKEN PROMISE —--
Tina sat across the room as Joe broke the news to his sister that he was staying longer than planned. She watched him sit silently as he listened to Jackie, and then explain himself.
“We’re doing great. We have three clubs in the city and an opportunity to stay a little longer. I can’t pass this up.”
“How much longer?” Jackie asked.
“A couple of weeks…” Joe hedged his bet. “Labor Day weekend at the latest.” He figured with Tina moving in on the 25th, and Uncle Babe needing to paint the bedroom, they’d be home before the holiday weekend. It was a safe promise.
“You promised me you’d be home in five weeks.”
“Look, Sis. I meant that… with the information I had at the time. I promise we’ll be back by Labor Day. How is everyone?”
“It’s so weird how calm it is,” Jackie said. “Mom talks about you. She’s worried but she’s not wigging out. She’s been unusually chill.”
“Maybe I’m the problem.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t say that.”
“How else can you explain her being sane when I’m gone?”
“You’re not the crazy one, Joe. You don’t start fights.”
Jackie handed the phone to Jeannie. This was the new phone call routine. Joe called it the family phone pass. Everyone had to get a word in.
“Thank you for the postcards,” Jeanie said. “I love them.”
“Which one is your favorite?”
“I kind of like the first one.”
“The Arch, why? I thought The Empire State Building or Statue of Liberty would be your favorite.”
“Because it was the first and a surprise. It made me happy you were thinking about me.”
When Julie took the phone, Joe teased her with some information.
“I have a couple of gifts for you.”
“What?”
“I can’t say. It would ruin the surprise but I think you’ll like them. There are so many bookstores in Manhattan one match could take out half the city. Every time I walk into a book shop I wish you were with me.”
“Why are you staying longer?”
“I just explained to Jackie. She can fill you in. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I promise.”
After he hung up, Tina smiled at him. He stared at her, then off into space, thinking to himself.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
“I hate disappointing my sisters.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I need to buy more postcards and gifts.”
—-- APARTMENT 3C —--
With Joe and Tina now a thing, the band could stay beyond her moving in. In the week that followed their first date, Tina bounced back and forth from her parent’s home in Marine Park, Brooklyn to her West Village apartment bringing personal items on each trip. The kitchen remodel was complete. Joe picked up a cast iron skillet at a second-hand store so he could cook. When T showed up with her cookery, plates, bowls, and flatware, Joe helped carry supplies up three flights of stairs and unpacked. Tina expressed skepticism about his claim of being proficient in the kitchen.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me,” he said. “I’ll prove myself.”
“What do you cook?”
“All kinds of things. My favorites are Italian dishes, seafood, and steak. I like doing a whole roasted chicken. You can eat that for days. I love breakfast for dinner.”
“Me too,” she said. “What Italian dishes do you make?”
“Sal’s dad cooks at the warehouse we live in back home. He has a serious kitchen. There’s a joke, for the best Italian food in Boston, drive to Providence. I live on Federal Hill. That’s our Little Italy but we don’t call it that. Tony taught me manicotti, cioppino, veal scallopini, and my favorite - ricotta meatballs.”
“What are they?” Tina said while filling her utensil disorganizer.
“Take any good meatball recipe and add at least a pint of ricotta cheese to the meat. They become light and fluffy, like cake. I hate hard meatballs.”
“You’re just too young,” she said. “How did you have time to learn all those things?”
“That’s not even a fifth of the dishes I know. From age twelve, I had to help Mom cook dinner because she worked the second shift at the hospital. We’d prepare together while she got ready for work and I’d finish it. I fed my sisters every weekday for years.”
“That’s not a normal childhood.”
“Who said I was normal?” He slapped her bum with a wooden spoon. “On the night you move in, I’ll cook you a nice dinner, just you and me.”
“That’s Saturday.”
“We have a Friday gig at Tommy’s. I have Saturday off.” He smiled. “Perfect.”
Tina stayed two more nights with Joe fully clothed on the murder mattress, repeats of their first night together. Even though Joe had put fresh sheets on she wasn’t getting naked on mystery stains. There was a lot of kissing and heavy petting. Joe made it safely to second base but Tina threw him out trying to steal third. Joe retreated, falling back on his pillow.
“I feel like I’m in eighth grade,” he whispered, hitting a bullseye on T’s funny bone.
She laughed loudly, covering her face. “You’re such a fucking weirdo.”
—-- BABYSITTING —--
The only difficulty Joe had in his otherwise blissful life on Jones Street was dealing with Johnny. Joe had to explain to Tina how his friend and guitarist got hooked up with druggies downstairs in apartment 1B.
“He met them our third day here, and he’s been playing like shit ever since. It’s really pissing me off. I’m also worried about him. Johnny has a history. He did some rehab. On Friday, I’ll spend my entire day trying to keep him occupied and away from 1B. Every day we have a gig, I’m his damn babysitter.”
“What’s he on?”
“We think it’s heroin. He has no needle marks, but the punks at Tommy’s say he might be smoking it. I had no idea you could smoke heroin. They laughed at me as if I’m supposed to know about heroin.”
“I’ll stay overnight Thursday and spend the day with you Friday,” she said. “Johnny likes me. I think I can help.”
Joe pulled her in for a hug. “You’re amazing. You don’t even know Johnny.”
“I know you care about him,” she said as he held her close. “and I care about you.”
“What does Johnny like?” She asked.
Joe smirked. “Let’s see. He likes Fresca, The Rolling Stones, and Marlboros…”
“No, I mean what does he like to do?”
“Heroin.”
Tina glared at him. “I’m being serious.”
“Okay. He likes parks, so that’s always part of my plan, and he likes diners, and he likes movies. I took him to see Mad Max.”
“I know all the parks in Brooklyn, Manhattan, and most of Queens. I’m fascinated by our park system.”
“So you’re a Robert Moses girl.”
“You know about Robert Moses?”
“Yeah, he’s a big deal. He built your city.”
“I know.”
“Johnny is slippery. He’s always looking for a jailbreak. He just wanders off if you’re not looking.”
“We have four eyes.”
Joe already loved Tina, he was certain, but on Friday he got a deeper look into how special she was. They took Johnny out for breakfast at The Skyline. That was easy. Then they went to Washington Square Park where they sat under a tree and talked. That’s where Johnny attempted his first escape. Tina wouldn’t allow it.
“No, stay with us,” she said as she grabbed Johnny’s hand. “Joe wants to go to a record shop we’ve never been to. Then we’ll check out Bryant Park.”
Johnny was helpless against her charm. She dragged him like a toddler to the subway station. All that hand-holding made Joe a tiny bit jealous. He knew Johnny was into Tina, and he didn’t want him getting any ideas.
At Rock and Soul Records on 37th Street, Joe pulled Tina aside. “We have to stay close to him. Record shops are where I’m most distracted and he knows this. If I turn around for too long, poof, he’s gone.”
“Okay,” she said. “You look for your records and I’ll check out posters with him. Do you think he’s going to buy one?”
“Nah, Johnny’s a window shopper.”
Joe scored some excellent U.K. punk records, including a band from Northern Ireland - Stiff Little Fingers, that made his day. After the record shop, on the way to Bryant Park, Tina thwarted another attempted slip. She herded Johnny in the right direction. After that, they jumped on the subway to Harlem. Joe explained why.
“I always move further from home as the day goes. If he gets away late, he has a long way home and I will beat him there because I’ll run between stops and in stations. Johnny never runs.”
“Have you done that?”
“Yeah, a few times, and he still beat me once.”
Gladys and Carl worked the late shift, so Joe met a day crew at The Bluebonnet Cafe. Joe boxed Johnny into the booth. He was jittery, but he ate enough of his lunch. All day, they never stopped moving, from one place to another… unless they were sitting.
They took the subway back to Chelsea. When they walked up to a movie house, Johnny stopped in his tracks. “I don’t feel like a movie.”
“You just told me you wanted to see The Warriors.”
“I’m tired. I need to sleep before the show.”
Joe took Johnny by the elbow. “You can sleep in here.”
By the time they got back to Jones Street, it was after four o’clock. Sal and Nate were waiting for them so the band could grab a bite together before going to Tommy’s.
Sal pulled Joe into the hallway outside Tina’s apartment. “When you weren’t here, we thought he was with the druggies. Where were you?
“All over the city. T kept Johnny in line all day. He tried to slip off but she wrangled him every time. We took him to the movies. She watched him like he was her child. I love that chick. She’s an angel.”
“She seems cool.”
“No, Sal, she’s un-fucking-believably cool.”
“Have you fucked yet?
“No.”
“Let’s talk after that,” Sal said. “She seems a little... I don’t know, prissy?”
That night, The Young Punks had their best gig in weeks. Johnny was not feeling well, but he played well, not his best, but good. Because NYU kids were coming back into town, Tina invited a bunch of her artsy friends to Tommy Guns. They loved the sideshow antics and singalongs. After the show, walking to a diner for late-night eats with a large group of punks, Tina was a happy girl.
“I wanted to show off my new boyfriend,” she smiled. “I knew they’d love you.”
“What about the band?”
“They loved the band too,” she leaned hard against him.
“Why didn’t they come out for pie and coffee?”
Tina looked back to see who was near. She whispered. “Because some of these guys look pretty fucking scary. I told them the punks are sweet, but the girls can’t get past the Mohawks and face piercings.”
“What the fuck are they, Republicans?”
“No, just girls from the suburbs.”
“They need to grow the fuck up,” Joe said. “These guys are all good dudes. If anything, they should be afraid of the punk chicks.”
“You’re telling me?” Tina giggled. “Hey, my dad will be dropping off my furniture tomorrow. Can you help carry it upstairs?”
“Of course I can.”
“Are you still cooking me dinner tomorrow night?”
“Of course I am.”
Joe looked back. “Hey Simon, get up here.”
The blonde Brit punk stepped up from the pack behind T and Joe. “What’s up?”
“Why are you laying back? Joe asked as Simon came alongside Tina.
“Just giving you lovebirds your privacy.”
“We''re good. Tell me again why you’re not in a band. Because it makes no sense to me.”
“I hate unreliable people,” said Si, “and musicians are notorious wankers. It just never works out.”
“No, I mean why don''t you keep trying?”
“I’m just sick of investing the time with no payoff.”
“You keep playing until it pays, Si. That’s how it works. For a smart guy, that’s pretty dumb.”
Both Joe and Tina adored Simon. He was smart and charming in his own British way. They liked how he turned his accent on and off depending on his mood. They talked non-stop about punk rock, and they argued too. Tina enjoyed Joe and Si’s verbal sparring.
As they approached The Parkside Grill, Joe had a realization. This summer in New York, a chance to play gigs and see if they can make it here, may have changed his life. He had a girl he was crazy about and a whole pack of new punk friends. Joe couldn’t believe his luck. Life was good… except for Johnny.