— OCTOBER 1979 —-

  Joe called Tina late in the evening. After two days in the garage working on old covers and new music, he was exhausted, emotionally as much as physically.

  “The first couple of hours were awkward. I don’t even want to speak to Sal. Johnny is fine but he’s not the same man. He’s weak and…” Joe paused. “I don’t know how to describe what I feel about him.”

  “How did he play?”

  “He was good yesterday and better today. That’s not what I’m worried about. The band is good. It’s like we never took a day off. We did two eleven-hour days. We’re ready for the stage. It’s off-stage that concerns me.”

  “When will you play a gig?”

  “Randy offered us Halloween Night at The Living Room, next week. I think I need to take that date and then maybe play Barney’s. Those are our best fans.”

  “You won’t be back until after all that? It’ll be weeks.”

  Joe sensed the whining was coming. “I can come up this weekend before we play downtown. I need to get away from these guys but it’ll only be for a couple of days.”

  “Why do you need to get away from them?”

  “This is hard, T. I don’t trust anyone.”

  “You said the band will never be the same. Maybe you’re causing that. You can try to be more positive.”

  “I can’t fake it. There’s no pretending you trust someone. Once that’s lost there’s no…”

  “I know what you mean but you have to try.”

  It took Joe a few more days to move past his feelings that he was cornered into this compromise. The band dynamic slowly returned; the ball breaking, the laughs, and the fun of playing together. The music had a healing effect.

  Joe took the train down to the city to make his unhappy girlfriend smile for two days and nights. She made it clear that was not enough. Joe had no sanctuary. There was pressure in New York, pressure at home, and an awkward truce at the garage. He wasn’t certain how to manage the competing priorities in his life.

  On Halloween night, a few songs into the second set, Joe quieted the crowd by doing nothing. The band knew his moves. If Joe stood at the mic, his lips inches away, and said nothing; the crowd would take his cue. The room went as silent as a bar full of drunk college kids could be. He did this whenever he had something to say.

  “I want to apologize for our hiatus. We ran off to New York City and found some trouble. We came back a changed band and now we’re trying to put it back together. This is our home turf. We had to play here first. I’m happy to see our friends, all of you… anyone who’s been here from the beginning.”

  A drunk hoodrat shouted, “The Underground!”

  Joe laughed, “How many here saw as at the skanky Underground in the west end?”

  A contingent near the bar cheered.

  “Just the hoodrats,” Joe said. “Not you Ivy League twats. You trust fund babies know what neighborhoods to stay the fuck out of. We are townies, the sons of Providence!” Joe pointed at the bar. “They are the hoodrats! You old money bluebloods from Greenwich and New York City…” he paused. “You’re on our turf!”

  Joe punched that last line with attitude, pointing at college kids. A few wealthy Ivy Leaguers got nervous, assholes puckering, wondering what the fuck this punk rock townie was doing. As the locals cheered rowdily, Joe smiled, feeling the discomfort he conjured.

  “Welcome,” he spread his arms out. “Welcome to our party. Buy a blue-collar punk a drink with your privilege. We’re all friends just having a good time. “

  “We love you, Joe!” a girl screamed from the back, “prompting cheers.”

  “I love you, too. It’s cool that we’ve played back-to-back Halloween Nights here. I like tradition.”

  The band broke into The Addams Family, a song they first played at The Living Room on Halloween last year. After the TV theme sing-a-long Joe debuted a new original song.

  “We play a lot of college bars, like The Bulldog Saloon, near Yale.”

  The Brown crowd booed.

  “We have fans at Harvard.”

  They booed louder. Even the townies boo Harvard.

  “NYU and Columbia.”

  As they continued booing, Joe quieted the crowd. “At every college bar we play, at every beach club filled with college kids, there are townies. This song is called… “ Joe strummed a hard, distorted E chord, “Townie.”

  It was not a song celebrating townies. Townie was a harsh, honest song about class and blue-collar pride in one’s city. While he was belting out the slightly angry lyrics, Joe spied Claire in the crowd. She wore scary makeup and her hair was a big, teased-out mess. She smiled and waved when she realized he noticed her.

  After the show, she found him side-stage drinking a beer with an old friend, Issac. She snuck up behind him and put her hands over his eyes.

  “Guess who?”

  “Only one person I know uses this move.”

  She laughed, uncovered his eyes, and when Joe turned, Claire hugged him. “I miss you. It's great to see you, Joe.”

  “How are you?” He leaned back, “And what’s this costume supposed to be?”

  “It’s nothing, just make-up and messy hair. I’m a monster.”

  “Hi, Claire,” Issac waved.

  “Hi, Issac,” she smiled, standing very close to Joe. “Are you still hitting on him?”

  “No.” Issac smiled. “I know Joe likes girls.”

  “Yes, he does. And we like him.” She turned to Joe, leaning against him. He could smell her perfume. “I’m so glad the band is back together. I’ve been hearing rumors.”

  “We can’t stop people from talking.”

  “How are you?” She placed her hand behind him to pull him closer. “I miss you so much.”

  “You said that.” Joe met Issac’s eyes. “I’m good, and you?”

  “Okay. How’s New York? Are you still…”

  “He was just telling me about his girl at NYU,” Issac interrupted.

  “Oh, so that’s working out for you?”

  “Yeah, it is.” Joe stepped away sending a gentle message.

  After a minute of small talk, Claire kissed Joe on the cheek, looked him long in the eyes, and walked off. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

  Issac smiled. “Is she still hitting on you?”

  “It seems so.” Joe watched Claire walk away.

  “You still have a thing for her, don’t you?”

  Joe shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? She’s fun.”

  “And beautiful,” Issac smirked.

  “That too.”

  After the Halloween show and a Friday night at Barney’s in Worcester. Joe was locking down dates for a road trip down the coast, from Maine to NYC. He had a long and difficult phone conversation late in the evening.

  “We’re playing fine. Johnny is as good as he’s going to get. I need to see him on the road. That’s where we’ll find out if he can handle this life. I need to do this now, T.”

  “You won’t be here for weeks?”

  “I’m sorry. I need to know if Johnny can do this.”

  A half-hour later, Jackie sat on the edge of his bed. After overhearing his side of what was an emotional conversation, she popped into the dungeon to check on her big brother.

  “Was she crying?”

  “I’d call it weeping.”

  “Is Tina a wimpy, needy girl like Jules?”

  “Don’t call Jules a wimp.”

  “But you agree with needy?”

  “Tina is needy just like Jules.”

  “Is everything okay with the band?”

  “We’re playing great. I see glimpses of Johnny Cool. I feel good today but who knows about tomorrow? It’s weird how things flip. Two weeks ago life in New York was happy and peaceful and all my drama was here at the garage. Now she’s my problem.”

  Jackie smiled at her brother. “Tina will adjust because she’s in love with you. I understand how she feels, Joe. I had fun with her talking about you. She gets you and I think she’s good for you. Tina’s a challenge for you.”

  “She’s way out of my league, sis.”

  “Bullshit.” Jackie pointed at him. “Don’t you ever say that! She sees you for who you are and she loves you.”

  “You should see her in her world. She’s beautiful and spectacular.”

  “And so are you… in your world.”

  —-- TRANSACTIONAL —-

  The following morning, after his therapy session with Jackie, Joe decided to roll the dice. Dealing with real relationship demands and feelings was new to him. His sister’s amateur help was good for Joe, but he needed a pro… so he placed a phone call. It was a gamble. He didn’t believe Dr. Nichols would see him but she agreed to meet, only because she had an opening.

  “How are you, Joe?” she said, holding her office door open for him. She looked up, “Okay,” She stepped back. This time I’m certain you’ve grown.”

  “Yeah,” he said as he walked in, “I reached the six-foot milestone and didn’t even realize it until Mom commented. She insisted on measuring me.” He took his place in the easy chair. “She still has the hash marks on the door frame for all the kids. I thought I was done with that but Mom lined me up against the wall a few weeks ago.”

  Dr. Nichols sat in her chair. “I hope this visit isn’t about something serious.”

  “I’m fine,” he said as he settled in. Dr. Nichols adjusted her skirt and crossed her legs. Joe recalled how much he admired her long legs. “It’s not serious compared to the other stuff I’ve been here for. I just needed to talk to someone disconnected from what I’m dealing with.”

  “How are you and Mom?”

  “You may not believe this. She’s been great.”

  “Really?”

  “I honestly thought she was on Prozac or something. Jackie and I went through her medicine cabinet to see what pills she was on. It’s nothing. She just turned the corner and… changed.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know, Doc. It happened while I was away this summer. I came home to a new mother.”

  Joe told the doctor of his summer in the city, the good, the bad, and the ugly details. He left nothing out. She seemed genuinely happy that he was in love. He told her about Mom’s transformation and her letting go of past grievances. He then explained that he considered quitting his band over Johnny’s addiction and how the guys came to a compromise. He ended his story with an unhappy girlfriend, the reason he was there, and the clashing priorities in his life.

  “Let me tell you what I like hearing,” Dr. Nichols interrupted. “You put Johnny ahead of your ambitions. You have concern about Tina’s happiness and you’re trying to find a balance. The fact you’re struggling with these challenges is a sign of maturity. Many people would do what they desire regardless of how it affects others. I’m not surprised that you have empathy and you care about them. You always have, for your sisters, for the kids you defended at school, and now you’re carrying it into adulthood.”

  “Okay, how do I find that balance? Tina is crying on the phone over not seeing me for a week. What’s gonna happen when I go on the road? I don’t know if I can take that.”

  “I believe that’s Tina’s problem more than yours.” Dr. Nichols paused. “Forgive me for saying this. She’s an intelligent twenty-year-old woman but it sounds like she needs to grow up emotionally. You can’t do that for her. That’s Tina’s journey.”

  Joe stared at Dr. Nichols letting her words sink in and realizing that she was correct. He knew talking to her would clear his mind. It always did. Since the moment he arrived, he was transfixed on the open buttons of her blouse, her elegant neck, and the gold Star of David she wore.

  “Are you Jewish?”

  “Yes, you didn’t know that?”

  “I never thought of it.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, of course not,” he said. “I don’t recall you ever wearing the star.” He placed his fingers on his chest.

  She touched her necklace. Her long red nails contrasted her fair skin and gold pendant. “This was a recent gift from my mother who is troubled that I don’t practice Judaism with the fervor that she does.”

  “So, we have that in common?” Joe smiled with surprise.

  She smiled back, “Yes, we do. If you think an overbearing Catholic mother is a lot to handle, try an overzealous Jewish mother for a week. You’ll run home to your Mom.” She adjusted her legs, recrossing them and shifting to her side. “Believe me, Joe. I have always related to your maternal struggle.”

  “A few weeks ago,” he said, leaning closer. “I thought I made my first Jewish friend in New York. Then I realized I have like…” He thought for a moment. “I think I have five Jewish friends there. I didn’t know some of the punks were Jews when we first met.”

  “We don’t have horns as anti-semites like to portray us.”

  “Except these guys have the horns,” Joe laughed. “Spikes and Mohawks.”

  “Jewish punks? I can’t say I know any.”

  “I know a few. So you’re not religious?” he asked, suddenly fascinated with his doctor’s faith.

  “I am, but it’s not the core of my being. I go to the temple occasionally. I observe the holidays with my family but I’m not deeply faithful. I am culturally Jewish. The God thing is tricky for me.”

  “We have that in common too,” Joe nodded. “I’m going to steal your line. I’m culturally Catholic but the God thing?” Joe shrugged. “I’m not buying in.”

  “Atheism is alive and well in the Jewish intellectual community. I’m not an atheist,” She said. ”But I have doubts and more questions than answers.”

  Joe wanted to know more about Dr. Nichols. He knew very little about her. She didn’t discuss her life very often. On occasion. she’d offer an anecdote, like her dating a younger man years ago but she rarely spoke about herself. Joe had spent hundreds of hours over seven years talking in intimate detail about his life, his pain, his fears, and his dreams. She knew everything about him. He always felt he was in a relationship with this intelligent, caring, older woman, yet he knew next to nothing about her.

  “Were you born here?”

  “No. I was born in New York. I came here for college and fell in love with this little city. Providence is so much more manageable than Manhattan.”

  “But New York is so… amazing.”

  “It’s not all good. It’s amazing in bad ways too.”

  “Tell me about it.” Joe nodded. “I just spent a hot, stinky summer there. Where did you grow up?”

  “The Lower East Side. Do you know where Katz Deli is?”

  “I was just there! I love that place.” Joe sat up, happy with this coincidence. “And Tina is crazy for Economy Candy.”

  Dr. Nichols’ face lit up. Joe loved her smile and her eyes were so expressive. “When I was a girl, that was my favorite place in the whole world. I grew up on Essex Street. I have a serious sweet tooth. It’s a problem.”

  “Tina does too. We went to Economy right after gorging ourselves on the deli. She made herself sick. She has the sweet tooth of a five-year-old.”

  “Me too.” She placed her hand on her tummy. “I have to be careful.”

  “You seem to be managing it,” Joe smiled. “You look fabulous.”

  Dr Nichols’ smiled, then exhaled. “Thank you. Let’s get this session back on track.”

  “Because I complimented you? This is fun. What’s your favorite candy? I need to know.”

  “Honestly. I like them all but if I had to choose I’d go with cream-filled chocolates or chocolate-covered almonds. I love chocolate-covered cherries.”

  “So, you’re a chocolate-covered anything girl.”

  She blushed, “I suppose I am.”

  That blush made Joe very happy. “You just blushed like a little girl,” he smiled.

  “Okay,” she nodded. “I see what’s happening here. I’m talking to the Joe the young ladies like so much. You can turn it off now.”

  “Turn what off?”

  “The charm.”

  “I’m just enjoying this tiny glimpse into your life. That’s not a bad thing.”

  “But that’s not why you’re here. This is about you, not me.”

  “It can be about whatever we want it to be,” Joe smiled. “I noticed you haven’t written any notes. What’s up with that?”

  Dr Nichols exhaled again. “Technically, you’re not my patient any longer. I gave you this appointment because I had a cancellation and I was curious about how you’re doing.” She shifted her bottom in her chair again. “But I also wanted to refer my colleague again.” She opened her notebook, removed a card, and held it out for him.

  Joe took the card and glanced at it. “Marvin Wientraub, again.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “You’re really trying to dump me on this guy, aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m giving you a resource, a man I respect who could help you on the next leg of your journey.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m afraid I’m traveling the next leg solo.”

  “No, you’re not, Joe. You have your parents, and your sisters, your friends, and you have Tina. Marvin is a wise man who could help you navigate… if you wish.”

  As the session wound down, Dr Nichols didn’t end with her positivity closer. She simply told Joe that she was proud of him and happy that he had found love. Then Joe mentioned that he was no longer on his Dad’s insurance.

  “So, I have to pay cash,” he said.

  “You don’t have to pay.”

  “I’m not taking a freebie. You’re a professional. I don’t play gigs for free and I never will. I insist on paying my way.”

  “Okay.” She stood and went to her desk. Joe stood. She scribbled on a pad, tore off the top sheet, and handed it to him. He looked at the number.

  “Wow. That’s what you get for an hour?” He looked up. “I’m in the wrong business.”

  “That’s discounted,” she smiled. “I also enjoyed this visit.”

  Joe pulled out a wad of bills and peeled off a few. “I think my sister Jackie needs to look into this therapy game. She could do this and get paid like you for good advice.”

  “You always say she is mature beyond her years.”

  “She is.” Joe handed her the bills. “This feels weird,” he said with an icky face. “Our relationship never felt transactional before.”

  Dr. Nichols accepted the cash. “It always was, Joe. You were simply shielded from that reality. That doesn’t mean I don’t care. Yes, this is a business but it’s a deeply personal transaction. I am invested in my patients and you are one of my oldest and dearest.”

  “And that’s why I will never have another therapist. I have no interest in starting over and no one could possibly understand me as well as you.”

  “Thank you, Joe. Those words mean more than you know. If you ever wish to meet Dr. Wientraub, let me know. We could do a session, the three of us, to make the transition easier. I believe you would like Marvin.”

  “Yikes,” he winced. “I can’t imagine what tag-team therapy would set me back.”

  Dr. Nichols smiled and extended her hand. “Goodbye, Joe., and good luck. I wish you well.”

  Again, Joe took her by surprise by using her hand to pull Barbara Nichols in for an embrace. He held her close, breathing in her perfume. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

  —-- ROUTE 95 —--

  In the days leading up to the I-95 road trip, Joe spent his days at the garage keeping an eye on things. Johnny was in and out and seemed okay. Joe wondered where he disappeared to at times. He hoped it was his clinic. The band did some light jamming on new material. A week later he phoned Tina from Portland, Maine.

  “I miss you too,” he said. “but I have to take care of business. We have eight gigs in twelve days and then I’ll be there for ten days.”

  “I hate sleeping alone.”

  “How many times are you going to tell me that?”

  “It’s what I think about every night when I’m getting ready for bed. My bed’s too big without you.”

  “Okay, Sting. Do you want to hear about our new club?”

  “I guess.”

  “It’s a very strange venue. The Crow’s Nest is right on the water. The bar is literally on the wharf with water under it. There’s a side door behind the stage. When you step out there’s a forty-foot fishing trawler right there. We had to step around nets and equipment to get our gear inside.”

  “How’s the crowd? I’m guessing it’s a bunch of salty old sailors.”

  “Yeah, there were some of those and their crusty wenches but it was mostly younger people after eight o’clock. So many bars are like that. The day drinkers are old and the nightcrawlers are younger. It was a good crowd for a first gig.”

  “Where to next?”

  “A new bar in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, and then Boston. I’m coming straight down I-95 all the way to you.”

  “What night of the week is your show in Queens? I want to go to that one because I have friends at The Metro.”

  “We play Tommy’s on Friday, Queens on Saturday, then two days off before we do The Belmont and Gravesend.”

  “And you’re staying with me after the band goes home?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “Don’t say it like that… like I’m some nagging wife.”

  “Well, don’t pester me like a wife and I won’t say it like that.”

  “I’m not pestering you. How’s Johnny?”

  “He’s fine. Nothing to report.”

  Several days in, the band played their third new club of the trip, this one in New London, CT. It was another unusual venue. The Trumbull Tavern was a Revolutionary War-era establishment just up the road from Fort Trumbull State Park. At some point in history, a large addition was built to host parties, small weddings, and events. It was a good room. Joe phoned Tina late, from a red English phone booth inside the bar.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  “This place will be a beach gig in the summer,” Joe told Tina. “There are like five beaches nearby.”

  “I have some fantastic news,” she said. “Dougie the Druggie and his heroin skank have moved out. I guess Babe started the eviction process and threatened to call the NYPD. They were gone two days later.”

  “Oh, man. That is great news. My biggest worry on this trip was getting back to The Village. This changes everything.”

  “How’s Johnny been?”

  “He’s okay. He’s just not himself. That worries me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s always been a low-key guy,” Joe said, “but this is different. He’s become a loner. He goes for walks by himself. He’s just not the same.”

  When Joe arrived in Manhattan on a Friday morning, after 3 AM, after playing in New Haven and driving into the city, Tina woke Lana up with her excited greeting, jumping into his arms. She kissed his face all over before she found his mouth.

  Lana came out of her room, “Okay, I’m sorry, but this shit can’t be happening every time he comes home… especially at,” she looked at the clock, “3:18 in the morning.”

  “I haven’t made a peep,” Joe said. “It’s all her.”

  “I know.” She glared at T. “Can you keep it down? I have classes in the morning. You don’t.”

  Lana went into her room, closing the door hard, like an exclamation point for her annoyance. Tina dragged Joe into her room and molested him for an hour before they fell asleep. At 8:55, Joe sneaked out of bed to pee. When he returned, he gently slipped back under the covers. Tina stirred, reached out, and found him.

  He watched her sleep with a smile on her face. Was she dreaming or was that a smile of contentment? He was happy, she was happy, so why did Joe feel anxious?

  Sitting in The Skyline Diner at breakfast she was cheerful and talkative, telling Joe about her new friend at school. “Jenna is so cool. I love her. We’re working on a project together and every time she makes a suggestion, it’s perfect. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

  “I’ve met her already.”

  “When?”

  “Back in September. It was the day I brought cookies to your class. You invited Jenna out for pizza but she had other plans.”

  “You didn’t actually meet her.”

  “You introduced us and she flirted with me.”

  “She did not.” Tina looked at her watch. “Speaking of class. I have to get moving.”

  “I have to go find the guys,” Joe said. “We’re supposed to meet Simon for lunch. After this, I probably won’t eat.”

  “Where are they staying?”

  “The Hotel Chelsea. I have a feeling that’ll be our home base. It’s just around the corner from Marty’s studio. I’ll be popping in to see him sometime this week.”

  —-- THE BILLY IDOL BENEFIT —-

  The band's return to their home club in New York was made into a big deal by Tommy. He got the word out and posted a bill on his new front door, a few feet from his brand-new neon sign. Tommy Guns - Live Music. Tommy proudly stood with Joe beside his colorful, glowing sign. A photo was taken. Tommy then took a photo of the band. Joe read The Young Punks playbill on the new steel security door.

  “What’s the fuss over, Tommy?” Joe asked as the band dragged their gear inside. “We pack this joint every time we play. It’s not like you have room for more punks.”

  “I wanted to make sure everyone knew. We need a good crowd tonight, for Simon.”

  Simon had no clue the club and the punks were doing a benefit for him until Tommy came on stage to announce the band, something he had never done.

  “Hey! Everyone listen.” He waved his arms. “You all know what happened to our friend Simon a couple of months back. He’s recovering, and doing fine but he has a mountain of bills. All proceeds from tonight’s show will be donated to help Simon.”

  The crowd cheered. Simon was flabbergasted, then embarrassed. Tommy continued. “The band is giving the door cash. Zip, Clyde, and Monk will be passing the hat. Don’t be cheap! He’s in a tough spot.”

  Tommy paused for a moment, then looked back at Joe playing with his Jaguar. Joe nodded. “Let’s give a big punk welcome back to our friends from Rhode Island… The Young Punks.”

  The band didn’t bash into the opening number. Instead, Joe stepped up to the mic and grabbed it with both hands. The band stood quiet. Joe sang hard, with his eyes closed,

  “Roxanne, you don’t have to put on the red light. Those days are over, you don’t have to sell your body to the night.”

  He opened his eyes, paused, and looked over the crowd, they cheered.

  “Roxanne, you don’t have to wear that dress tonight, walk the streets for money, you don’t care if it’s wrong or if it’s right.”

  “Roxanne! You don’t have to put on the red light.”

  The band didn’t join in until the chorus. The solo acapella opening made Roxanne more intimate… or so Joe thought. Two hundred-plus punks provided backup vocals.

  The punks shouted. “Roxanne!”

  Joe answered. “Put on the red light.”

  “Roxanne!”

  “Put on the red light.”

  “Roxanne!”

  “Put on the red light.”

  “Roxanne!”

  “Put on the red light.”

  This was Joe’s take on Roxanne, a quiet start, deafeningly loud at the end. After a few songs, Joe had something to day. He stood quietly to gather the crowd’s attention.

  “Welcome to the Billy Idol Benefit show.” he smiled.

  “Piss off!” Simon shouted from the bar as punks snickered. “Fucking wankers, the lot of you.”

  “Did you hear that?” Joe shook his head. “What an ungrateful, little, bloody, twat.”

  The punks around the bar laughed at Simon.

  “Tommy already said it,” Joe said, “but I’ll repeat it.” He pointed at the crowd. “Don’t be fucking cheap.”

  Late in the second set, he spied a girl wearing a Pretenders T-shirt. “Hey, can you sing Mystery Achievement? Do you know the words?”

  “Ya.”

  “Can you sing… “ he winced. “Like… not terrible?”

  “Ya, I can sing.”

  Joe put his hand out, “Would you like to be my Chrissy Hines?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Joe looked over the crowd. “Don’t you want Chrissy singing instead of me?”

  The punks sounded off. Joe’s hand was still out there offering her a lift to Hell’s Kitchen stardom. She accepted. Joe pulled her up to the stage.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Christina.”

  “Nice. That’s my girlfriend's name.” Joe pointed. “See the smoking hot chick with the purple hair over there? That’s Tina. Are you also Tina?”

  “No, they call me Chrissy.”

  Joe smiled wide, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No.”

  “How cool is that?” Joe turned to the punks, “We have Chrissy doing Chrissy.” He turned to Christina. “Are you ready for your Tommy Guns debut?”

  “I think so.”

  “Okay. I know the lyrics,” he pointed at her. “So don’t fuck up. I might call you out.”

  “Great.”

  Nate led the band with the thumping drumbeat opening to Mystery Achievement. Sal joined on bass, and then Johnny with the simple guitar. The first vocals are moans. When Christina nailed them… Joe knew she’d be okay… and she was. The punks went crazy for Christina Hines and she felt it, which gave her confidence.

  Joe enjoyed not being tethered to a mic. He felt free walking the stage playing his Jag, mugging with his friends, and messing around with Christina who was quite capable of singing and moving with the beat.

  Joe led the applause when she took a bow. “I think she’s a ringer. Are you a Broadway singer or something?”

  Christina blushed, “No. I don’t know where that came from.” She pointed at the crowd. “It was them.”

  He nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  She hugged him and stepped off stage. He leaned into the mic. “I would ask you to join our band but the other Christina would murder me.”

  This was Joe’s new bit, after Blondie in Boston and Chrissy in NYC, he decided to develop this punk stunt, girl singers getting a shot at stardom.

  After the show, Nate’s cousin Jeremy contributed the bar staff’s tips from the evening. Tommy handed Simon a large business envelope bulging with cash. He was drunk, visibly moved, and struggled to remain composed. He tried levity to fight the emotion.

  “Thank you, this is unbelievable. I do have one request. Because of this,” he pointed at his head. “You cunts can no longer say that I resemble Billy Idol. That shit is over.”

  Joe put a hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s not. You just look like Billy Idol got his ass kicked.”

  The bar erupted and Simon flipped him off. “How can you kick a man when he’s down?”

  “There’s no better time,” Joe said. “You're right there, by my feet.”

  “You heartless bastard.”

  Simon hadn’t been that drunk in some time, so T and Joe skipped the late-night diner festivities and walked him home. Si was so drunk he began patting his pockets in a panic three blocks from Tommy’s.

  “Oh, fucking bollocks, I lost the money. We have to go back.”

  Tina laughed. “You just gave it to Tommy for safekeeping, like ten minutes ago. Did you forget?”

  Simon leaned against her. “Yeah, I’m legless, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “What’s legless?”

  Simon slurred. “Pissed, plastered… I’m drunk.”

  Joe snickered. “Yeah, we noticed.”

  They stayed at his place for a short while. When he started nodding off they helped him into bed. Tina kissed his forehead like a mom tucking in her child.

  “I love you two, you’re the prince and princess of … zzzzzz.”

  Back on Jones Street, lying in bed, T was snuggled against Joe. He kissed her hair thinking about how great his New York friends are. They showed up for Simon. He was overwhelmed by the love in that room.

  “I was thinking about the first time we walked into Tommy’s last summer. It was like an old Western cliche. The punks stopped talking when we walked to the bar. They stared us down. No one said a word except Tommy. They looked scary so that shitty attitude was a little intimidating. Who knew they were a bunch of soft-hearted Teddy Bears?”

  “Teddy Bears that started a brawl at your first gig.”

  “They didn’t start it. They helped end it,” Joe said. “And how do you know about that?”

  “Sunny told me about it tonight. She was reminiscing too. She said you busted some guy's face with your boot and Nate’s nose got bloodied.”

  “We didn’t start it. A Nazi skinhead threw a bottle at us. It hit Johnny’s headstock and shattered. Then all hell broke loose.”

  “Yeah, because you jumped off the stage and charged him. She told me everything.”

  “Do we have a problem? You sound upset.”

  “No, but I don’t like violence. I hope you’re not one of those guys.”

  “I don’t start fights if that’s what you mean.”

  “Good.”

  “But I’m not afraid to finish one.”

  “Well, you can do your fighting when I’m not around, okay? Fighting is a major turn-off for me. I hate violence… especially when it’s stupid men fighting over nothing.”

  “I have never fought over nothing.”

  “Are you saying you’ve been in a lot of fights?”

  “A few. I grew up in a tough neighborhood. I got bullied and learned to fight back.”

  “In Providence? I’m sure that was a really tough childhood.”

  “You don’t know anything about Providence, so you can zip it, sister.”

  —-- QUEENS —-

  The Metropolitan Club in Flushing was a sports bar for the New York Mets, Jets, and Islanders with a nightclub connected by a corridor. The club side was a large rectangular room, tiered, so people in the back could see over the dance floor. It was a well-designed venue. The stage was big and there was a green room behind it. Tina introduced Joe to Vincent, the club manager, and a few staff she knew. She had called ahead to reserve tables for her Brooklyn and Queens friends, people she knew from her days at Catholic High School, St. Edmund Prep.

  The band got off to a good start in a room only two-thirds full. More patrons were flowing in so Joe held the stunts for later in the set. He watched Tina greet old friends, several girls, and a few dudes. When the club was nearly full he opened the bag of tricks and put smiles on faces. Between sets, he met her old night clubbing crew.

  "What's that guy's problem?" Joe motioned toward a tall, athletic dude. "He can't take his eyes off you and he’s giving me the stink eye.”

  "Ryan was my first real boyfriend."

  "You invited your ex here?"

  "He's part of this group," she smiled. "Are you jealous?"

  "No, I just noticed his creepy stalker eyes."

  "He never saw my new hair color. He said he likes it."

  "I think he likes a lot more than your hair."

  Tina selected two of her girlfriends for the dance contest. They were drunk and flirty on stage. T laughed but she didn’t like the way Joe flirted back, telling the girls they were sexy, holding them by the waist while dancing with them. She half smiled as her cute blonde high school classmate, Tracy, struggled to remove a Daffy Duck shirt off Joe’s back and then kissed him on the lips.

  After another song, Joe had an epiphany. “Hey, was this place a strip club at some point? This stage,” He pointed behind him. “That back room.” He nodded as patrons nodded back.

  “The mob ran it,” Someone shouted. “until the Feds raided the joint.”

  “I thought Tracy seemed at home up here,” Joe winked at Tina. Her mouth was agape, laughing.

  In the parking lot, after the show, the band hung around with Tina’s old friends discussing what they might do for their two days off. Tracy stood opposite Tina, close to Joe. So close an onlooker might think he had two women. Joe found it amusing when Tina looked around him, keeping an eye on the competition.

  One of her Catholic school pals passed a joint to Johnny. When he took a hit Joe’s heart sank a little. The last thing he wanted to do was say something that might create a scene but he couldn’t help how he felt. He pushed the discomfort down and kept his mouth shut. It’s only weed.

  Joe rode back to the city in Tina’s Nova. She was quiet for the first few blocks.

  He nudged her. “Are you okay?”

  “Fucking Trace. She’s such a cunt.”

  “Whoa!” Joe laughed. “What did she do, besides kiss me on the lips and grab my ass in the parking lot?”

  Tina turned to him, “Trace grabbed your ass?”

  “Twice.”

  “She’s a slut and she’s never liked me. You’re not the first boyfriend of mine she’s flirted with. That crap has been going on for years and she does it right under my nose.”

  “Why did you pick her if you don’t like her.”

  “I thought Briana would kick her ass. I should have known Trace would dance like a stripper whore.”

  Joe laughed, “Look at you, so jealous.” He slid closer as Tina stopped at a red light. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m with you and only you.” He kissed her.

  “I know. Thank you for saying that. It’s the disrespect that pisses me off. I guarantee all my friends saw it and now they’re talking. She has a reputation.”

  The light turned green. “And they all know I’m your man so it doesn’t matter.”

  “I suppose.”

  “And if she has a reputation they all know what happened back there,” he poked her. “And they probably noticed how mature and classy you were dealing with that crap.”

  “Okay. You don’t have to kiss my ass.”

  “I’m not. Tracy showed everyone she’s trashy and you showed them you’re above that high school nonsense.”

  Tina looked over. “At the next red light, I’m going to kiss you for saying that.” She scrunched her nose. “How do you know what to say? You do this all the time.”

  “Do what?”

  “You always know what to say to make me feel better. How do you do that?”

  “Years of therapy.”

  The favorite thing about that night for Joe was seeing how proud Tina was introducing him as her boyfriend and how she made sure everyone knew about it. That felt good.

  When the band wrapped up their first run down the I-95 route at Gravesend, Joe was grateful that Eddie Bags finally got to see The Young Punks at close to one hundred percent. It was their third show there but the first with Johnny not fucked up. After the show, they packed the van. Sal drove the guys back to Rhode Island, Joe took the F-train back to The Village for a few days of T-time.

  —-- LITTLE POCKET OF PAIN —--

  Lying in bed after a sweaty, sinful session of fornication, Tina had a thing on her mind. “I need to tell you about something I’ve been thinking about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t want to upset you but this keeps popping into my head.”

  “Just spit it out,” Joe said, leaning back to look at her.

  “I can’t stop thinking about Janie.”

  “Huh. Welcome to the club,” Joe sighed. “I think about her all the time.”

  “Every day?”

  “No. If I’m busy and my mind is occupied I won’t, but when I’m idle...”

  “What do you think about?”

  Joe thought for a moment. “A lot of things. I think about how beautiful she would be and the life she may have led. I think she would be proud of me for chasing my dream. I imagine the life she lost and what we lost.”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up but I find myself thinking of how terrible it is for a child to witness the death of a sibling. It’s unfathomable to me. I don’t know how you survived and succeeded. I would be a mess.”

  Joe laughed. “I am a fucking mess. You’ve seen some of it. I’ve just learned how to manage it.”

  “Have you ever been on meds?”

  “Oh yeah, when I was a depressed kid they gave me pills.”

  “What medication?”

  “I have no clue, antidepressants. I don’t know exactly which ones.”

  “Did they help?”

  “I didn’t like the way they made me feel. I was jumpy, my mind raced, and I couldn’t focus. So they gave me another pill and that medication had the opposite effect. I had no personality. I was emotionally flat, which was kinda how I was anyway in my depression but it was worse. I was a zombie. In depression I was sad but I was still myself. At least I had emotions. On that medication, I felt nothing.”

  “So you got off them?”

  “Yeah. I haven't taken a pill since I was thirteen. What is it you think about with Janie?”

  “Just how terrible it was and that you still have nightmares about it. How do you carry that pain?”

  “Well, at first I carried it in a huge fucking box that was so heavy it crushed me. Those first two years were brutal. Therapy helped me move my pain into a smaller box. It was still heavy but I could carry it. Eventually, I could fit it in my pocket. It’s always with me but it’s not so heavy.”

  “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven’t you?”

  “Oh Yeah, but not as much as I once did.”

  “Therapy was good for you. It worked?”

  “Yes. Dr. Nichols is incredible. She’s one of the most caring and compassionate people I know. It wasn’t always good. I went through periods when I had a shitty attitude and resisted treatment but I always went because she was nice and I could say anything. That’s the best thing about therapy. You can let loose and say whatever’s on your mind.”

  “I’ve thought about trying it.”

  “You could use it.”

  “What?” Tina’s head jerked back to look at him. “For what?”

  “Jesus Christ. Take it easy. I was kidding.”

  She looked at him suspiciously then put her head back on his shoulder. “I should know you by now but sometimes I forget you’re a jerk.”

  “I’m a lot of things and you haven’t seen half of them.”

  “Great. I bet you’re saving the monster for last.”

  “I’m a lot of things but a monster is not one of them.” He pulled her closer. “Ya know, I’m glad you brought this up. You just reminded me of an errand I have to run before I leave town.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Is it a surprise for me?”

  “Sure.”

  “I love surprises.”

  “I know you do.”

  They lay quietly for a moment, Joe thinking about his errand and how he’ll have to now make it about Tina even though it wasn’t about her. That part was easy. She loved the place he was going.

  “Do you know that fifth pocket in my Levi’s? He asked. “The tiny one on the right?”

  “Yes. The cute pocket.”

  “That’s where I carry Janie now. She’s in my little pocket of pain. She’s always with me but she doesn’t weigh me down.”

  “Are you writing a song?”

  Joe sat up, “Let me show you.” He reached for his jeans hanging on her makeup chair, stuck a finger in his little pocket, and pulled out a delicate gold pendant, a hummingbird. “This was Janie’s.” He handed it to Tina. “She was a hummingbird.”

  Tina held it in her palm, staring at it, for a long time, then looked up at Joe with tears in her eyes.

  “Pfft,” he smirked. “What are you crying about?”

  She closed her fist around the hummingbird and punched him. “Why do you always have to make a joke?” She opened her palm and looked at the pendant. “This is so sweet, and sad.”

  “She wore that almost every day but not on the day she…” he stopped. “I took it from her dresser.”

  “And you’ve carried it ever since?”

  “Every day of my life. Janie is always with me. She’s my hummingbird, always buzzing around my shoulder, and in my pocket.”

  Tina handed Joe the pendant. She wiped her tears. “You should put that on a chain and wear it.”

  “I’ve thought about it.”

  “Do you know the Seals & Crofts song?”

  “I love that song.” Joe sang lightly, “Hummingbird don’t fly away fly away…”

  —- PASSERSBY PASSING BY ——

  On Joe’s last day in town, he and Simon had breakfast. Walking through Chelsea on their way to The Little Apple Diner they happened across a junkie lying on the sidewalk in his vomit. Joe first saw him from thirty feet away, observing passersby passing by, walking around the junkie without care. One man stepped over his legs.

  Joe pulled on Simon’s arm as they neared. “We need to check on this guy.”

  “Why? How many druggies have you passed since you’ve been here? We see them every day.”

  “Yeah, but he looks like he’s in trouble.” Joe stepped over him with one leg, straddling the motionless man who couldn’t have been much older than himself. He bent over and poked him.

  “Hey, buddy. Are you okay?”

  There was no response.

  Joe pushed harder. “Hey, Pal. Wake up!”

  A passerby became annoyed as he stepped around three men. “Clear the sidewalk.”

  “Go fuck yourself, asshole,” Joe barked.

  The junkie exhaled a faint moan. Foam drooled from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were open but lifeless.

  Joe pointed towards the diner, “Go to The Apple and call 911. I’ll stay with him.”

  “What?” Simon raised his arms. “You’re getting involved?”

  Pedestrians on their morning commute stepped into the street to get around them.

  “Yes!” Joe said loudly for all to hear. “I guess I’m not a heartless fucking New Yorker.” He pointed again. “Go make the call. And hurry.”

  Simon huffed and walked off briskly while Joe remained by the junkie. He slapped the kid’s face trying to get a response. He rolled him to his side so he wouldn’t choke on vomit. Simon returned minutes later and sat on a nearby stoop. The ambulance took a long time. Joe became frustrated. So many people passed by the scene without a glance. He loathed every one of them.

  The paramedics were all business. When Joe tried to explain a young black medic stopped him. “We see this every day, man. Thanks for calling. Most people don’t give a fuck.”

  “Tell me about it,” Joe said loudly as passersby passed by. “No one in this goddamn city gives a fuck!” Joe couldn’t contain his rage. “I hate this fucking city!”

  “What’s your name?” The paramedic asked, “Sensing Joe was in distress.” He bent over and checked the pulse of the junkie.

  “Joe.”

  “I’m Derek. You can’t let this shit get to you. There’s so much of it,” he paused and gestured towards the pedestrians. “If they stopped for every junkie they’d never get to…”

  “Who says they have to stop and give aid?” Joe cut him off. “They can’t even make eye contact. I see them every day, too. This guy is clearly in trouble.”

  “His pulse is faint. It’s good you called. Can you give us some room to work?”

  Joe joined Simon on the stoop and watched the two medics administer aid and then load the young man onto a stretcher. Passing New Yorkers barely glanced, unmoved by the scene. Joe fumed.

  As the medics loaded the man into the ambulance, Joe handed Derek his business card. “My home number in town is on the back. Call me sometime. I’ll buy you lunch, or drinks, whatever.”

  Derek furrowed his brow. “What the fuck for?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I want to be kind to someone who’s kind to others.”

  “I’m just doing my job.”

  “A job you could never do unless you cared about people.”

  Derek placed the card in his pocket.

  “Do you think he’ll make it?” Joe asked.

  “I have no idea. I just move them.”

  As Joe and Simon continued to their breakfast date, Joe muttered. “Sometimes I hate this fucking city.”

  —-- SWEET GESTURE —--

  Dr. Barbara Nichols looked at the 6 x 6 x 6 package on her desk wrapped in brown paper with cartoons drawn on it. The return address was unfamiliar, Jones Street, NYC. The fancy cursive handwriting was not familiar. She opened it and smiled.

  The inside was packed tight with candy and a card. She opened it. It was written in a sweeping cursive that bordered on calligraphy.

  This gift is for little Barbara Nichols, the Lower East Side girl in pigtails who adores everything covered in chocolate. I often think about our last session. I was very pleased to learn a little about your life. After seven years I knew so little. There aren’t enough thanks in this world to express my gratitude. I hope chocolates will do.

  Love, Joe.

  Barbara pulled a smaller box from the larger Economy Candy box, opened it, and removed a chocolate-covered mystery. She bit into it. Sweet juice squirted, dribbling down her lip, and her chin, then fell to her chest.

  “Oh shit,” she whispered, looking down, as the delightful flavor of maraschino cherry and chocolate took her back in time. She smiled, thinking of Joe and his sweet gesture.

  Tina opened a smaller 4 x 4 x 4 box of her favorites. She happily pigged out on Joe’s last night in town, like a five-year-old.