Revenge Of A Band Geek Gone Bad

by Rabinowitz, Naomi

  "Just get it," he said. "It's not heavy, right? But I can carry it if you want. I don't mind."

  "No, it's not heavy. I just want to know why I need it," I said. Josh leaned against his car and smiled.

  "It's a surprise."

  I shook my head. "Oh no, last time you 'surprised' me, I ended up on stage terrified out of my mind!"

  "But you had fun doing it, right? Just trust me, okay, Mel? Please?"

  Josh stuck out his lower lip, making him look like a little boy. The image made me crack up. "Alright, alright," I said, heading back inside to get my instrument. "I'll do it."

  ###

  Josh suggested we leave the car at the train station and take the Long Island Railroad in so we wouldn't have to worry about parking in the city. As he drove there, I stared out the window and watched the rows of white and gray houses fly by. A few still had their Christmas lights on even though it was daylight, but the colors were muted against the bare trees. I wondered who lived in those homes and what they were doing at that very moment. Were they glad it was the holidays? Were they happy?

  As if he could read my thoughts, Josh nodded at one of the homes. "You ever get tired of living here?" he asked.

  I turned back to face him. "All the time," I admitted. "There isn't a whole lot to do in Sequoia. My plan is to go to college in the city and then live there."

  He nodded. "I know what you mean." He laughed bitterly. "I find it funny that this town is called 'Sequoia.' Those are big, imposing trees and they're out West. I've seen them; they're beautiful. This town is definitely not beautiful, no matter what its name is."

  I was taken aback by Josh's tone. He usually didn't sound so morose. "I guess you're moving away, too?" I asked. I prayed that it wasn't far. I didn't know if I could handle it if he went all the way to California.

  "Yeah, I'm definitely getting out of here," he said. "I need to go somewhere where they appreciate people like me, like us. I figure that once I'm done with school, I'll grab my trumpet and join a band somewhere. Or maybe even start one of my own. That's my dream," he said quietly.

  "Wait, so you're not going to college?" I found it hard to believe that someone as smart as Josh wouldn't want to. Plus, I'd always been told by my folks that I have to go.

  He shrugged. "Probably not. Really, I can't see myself spending at least four more years dealing with teachers and administrators. I think you know me well enough by now to know that I don't do so well with that. Hell, I'd rather hang on a street corner playing trumpet for tips, I think."

  "But how will you make money?"

  He smiled. "Well, if we're both in the city, you can give me a nice tip. Or," he added, "I can crash at your dorm."

  I laughed. "Anytime."

  ###

  We soon boarded the train and were on our way to the city. As we squeezed into the seat together, I relished being so close to Josh. Whenever his leg or arm brushed against me, I could feel the heat from his body ... which just about made my heart jump out of my chest. I thought about Lana's advice and moved in a little closer to him. He didn't object; in fact, he casually slid his arm across the back of the seat so that it draped over my shoulders. I rested my head against his neck.

  "So, now that we're actually headed into the city, do I get to hear what we're doing?" I asked him.

  Josh grinned and shook his head. "No."

  "Not even a hint?" I pressed.

  He laughed. "Nope."

  "Fine, I'll make you talk then," I warned, tickling him. Immediately he was in hysterics.

  No, d-don't, Melinda!" he protested, amidst giggles. "Okay! I surrender. First, I thought we'd take in a show."

  "In the morning?"

  "Well, it's a special show. After that, we're going to a special kind of workshop."

  "Where?" I pressed. "At NYU or something?"

  "No. It's a place called The Underground."

  I nodded. "Is that like the bar you took me to?"

  "Sort of. Do you approve?"

  "I guess." His plans still sounded strange. Rather than dwell on it, I gave him his gift. I suddenly felt very nervous as I handed it to him.

  He looked genuinely surprised as he opened it. "Wow. You didn't have to get me anything, Mel." He held up the little soldier. "This is so cool. Thanks."

  "You really like it?"

  "Yeah, it's great." He leaned in to hug me. "I got you something, too."

  Now it was my turn to be shocked -- and grateful that Lana made me buy him something. I watched as he fumbled around his pocket for a moment.

  "Here," he said, handing me a small box that was wrapped with a purple bow. "I was going to give this to you later today, but, well... here."

  I opened it and my breath caught in my throat. Inside was a little gold music note charm that hung from a gold chain.

  "Oh my gosh." My eyes filled with tears. "It's beautiful."

  "My mom picked it out," he admitted. "I wanted to get you something but I knew I needed the help. Hope you don't mind."

  "Not at all, she did a good job," I said, as he fastened it around my neck. Maybe Lana was right, I thought, as we headed into the city. Maybe Josh did like me. Still, as far as I was concerned, this was turning out to be the best day of my life.

  ###

  We reached Penn Station about an hour later. As we got off the train, Josh grabbed my hand and led me through the throngs of people. Since it was the holiday, the station was even more crowded than usual and we had to fight through the thousands of tourists just to take a step forward. Like in the mall, the air crackled with energy. I wasn't paying too much attention to everyone around me, though; I was busy concentrating on the feel of Josh's hand in mine. I reached up to touch his necklace and smiled to myself.

  Once we made our way across the station, Josh took us to the subway and from there, we traveled to the Times Square station at 42nd Street. When we arrived, Josh stood on the platform for a moment and looked around excitedly. "We're here," he announced.

  "Where? Here?"

  "Yep," he said, spreading his arms. "This is our concert hall."

  I spun around, trying to understand what he was talking about, but all I saw was a dirty station with cracks in the walls. Water dripped from the ceiling and the area was damp and cold, like a cave. I even saw a rat scurry by on the subway tracks. "Josh, no offense, but this is gross.”

  He laughed. "Well, yeah. This part kind of is, but if you know where to look, you can get better entertainment here than at Carnegie Hall. Come on, I'll show you."

  He took my hand again and led me upstairs. I wasn't sure what he had up his sleeve, but I enjoyed holding onto him.

  We walked toward the center of the station, where there was a large concourse between the different subway lines. There were still some cracks and leaks in the walls, but the air was warmer and less musty. In one corner sat a young dark-haired man playing the strangest instrument I'd ever seen. It was long and thin and looked like an old-fashioned trumpet, the kind kings' henchmen would've played, only it was made of wood. It

  produced an odd guttural sound.

  "What is that?" I whispered.

  "It's a didgeridoo," said Josh. "It's from Australia."

  "It's cool." We stood for a few minutes listening to the guy perform. A crowd gathered around him.

  The musician finally noticed Josh and stopped playing. He held out his hand and smiled. "Hey, Kowalski, man, how are you?"

  "Great." He nodded toward me. "Melinda, this is Don Lawson. Don's a student at Juilliard. His main instrument is clarinet, but he learned to play this overseas."

  "Oh." I didn't know what to say. It never occurred to me that someone from Juilliard, the school I was dying to attend, would end up performing in a subway station. I guess Don could tell I was a little concerned because he said, "Don't worry, honey, I know what you're thinking, but I'm not some starving musician. Well actually, I kind of am," he amended, "but I'm here strictly on business. The music schools and the transit authority ha
ve a program where they invite entertainers to audition, and if they pick you, you can play in certain stations."

  "Really?" I didn't realize that the people who played in the subway were actually sought after.

  "Yes. I'm pretty lucky to get a gig in this station since it gets so many people. And you know what? I make more money here than I do at clubs."

  "Huh." I'd thought I was familiar with the city from all the times I'd gone with my parents, but Josh was definitely showing me a new side of it.

  ###

  Josh continued to take me on a tour of the 42nd Street station, introducing me to his friends. He seemed to know almost every performer down there from the group of gospel singers to the Latin dancer whose partner was a stuffed doll. Everyone we ran into, though, had talent; enough so that if they caught the right person's eye, they'd probably all be stars. Josh was right; this was as good as any staged production I'd seen.

  After a while, Josh peered at my watch. It was 10 o'clock.

  "Oh, good, it's time for the morning rush," he said.

  "So?" I didn't really want to leave. I was beginning to really like the Times Square station.

  "We have to go back to the subway." He grabbed my hand again and took me downstairs. We were off to another adventure.

  ###

  We ended up on a train that was heading downtown. Since it was so crowded, we stood in the middle of the car and clung to one of the poles. At the next stop, a trio of men stepped into our car and made their way to the center. Two played a Latin-sounding tune on guitar and trumpet while the third guy sang. His voice was loud enough so that it rang out above the rumble of the subway.

  "Think I could do that?" Josh said, nodding at the man who played the trumpet. "I've always wondered what it would be like to play in a mariachi band."

  "I'm sure you could," I replied. So far, Josh seemed to be able to play any type of music that was thrown at him.

  "Well, I want to try." He unlocked his trumpet case.

  "What?" I'd thought that Josh was just thinking about playing that type of music. I didn't realize he was going to do it right there in the middle of the subway. I should've known, I guess. He was Josh. Him suddenly deciding that he wanted to do something and jumping right into it was just another ordinary day for him. Still, the last thing I wanted was for him to get beat up on the subway.

  "Josh, you can't," I said. "I don't think they'll like you interrupting them."

  He shrugged, waving away my concerns. "It won't hurt to ask, right? All they can say is no." He grabbed his trumpet and marched right over to the mariachis, pointing at his instrument and then theirs. "You guys are great," he said, putting a dollar in the singer's tip cup. "Would you mind if I tried one song with you?"

  The men lowered their instruments and surveyed the teenager who'd approached them. Josh stared back, his jaw set and confident. The singer raised an eyebrow. "You any good?" he asked, indicating Josh's trumpet.

  Josh responded by raising his trumpet to his lips and playing back the first few bars of tune they'd just finished. Perfectly. The performers nodded at each other, obviously impressed.

  "Not bad," said the singer. He motioned for Josh to join them. "You know Christmas music? You know 'Feliz Navidad?' "

  "Of course," Josh said.

  The four of them then took off on the melody. During the first verse, Josh played it straight, but then added all sorts of flourishes. The other trumpet joined in with his variations, chasing him in a musical drag race. Yet they all managed to end on the same note. The subway riders applauded and raced to dump coins in the singer's cup.

  "You've got skills," the trumpet player told Josh, smiling. "How old are you?"

  "16."

  "Really? You're only 16?"

  "Yep," Josh said proudly.

  The trumpeter playfully punched him and laughed. "Well, you're gonna put me out of work!"

  "Nah, I don't think so," Josh replied. "You're damn good yourself. But since you liked playing with me, do you mind if I have another person join us?" He met my eyes and slow grin spread across his lips. I immediately knew what he wanted and sighed.

  "Oh come on," I said, but this time I didn't really protest. I made my way over to them and put my flute together. "I don't know how much a flute belongs in a mariachi band," I said.

  The singer shrugged. "That's okay. If your boyfriend wants you to play, you must be good, too, right?"

  At the mention of Josh being called my "boyfriend," I felt a rush of heat creep up my face. I quickly glanced at Josh to see how he reacted to it, but his expression was neutral.

  "So let's begin," the singer announced, interrupting my thoughts. " 'Jingle Bells,' everyone!"

  ###

  We played with the mariachis for the entire train ride, which took us into Brooklyn. As it turns out, having a flute play with the band wasn't that bad; I just tried to keep up with the trumpets. We ran through a bunch of different holiday songs; the performers even taught us some tunes from Mexico. I guess they liked us since they didn't ask us to leave them alone. The subway riders appreciated us, too, because by the time we were finished, the singer's cup and the guitarist's case were overflowing with change.

  "This is our stop," the guitarist said when we'd reached the end of the line. He divvied up some change from the tips. "But you take this. You earned it."

  Josh held up his hands. "Oh no, man, we couldn't. This is your money."

  "Yeah, we were just playing for fun," I added.

  "You sure?" the singer asked. "You both played good."

  "I'll tell you what," Josh said. "Why don't you just promise us that the next time we're in town we can play with you again. Deal?" He stuck out his hand.

  "Works for me," said the singer. They shook on it and he gave Josh his business card. "Tres Hermanos" it said on it. "I'm Miguel, by the way," he said. "And yes, next time you're here, you give us a call."

  Josh and I gave him our names.

  "Now you guys enjoy your holiday," Miguel said. He then winked at Josh. "And you make sure you buy your girlfriend a nice gift."

  Josh didn’t answer, but flashed me a smile.

  ###

  As we took the train back into Manhattan (we didn't play on the ride uptown), I turned to Josh. "That was fun," I said. "But I can't believe you just went up to those guys like that. "You're always doing crazy things like this and roping me in."

  Josh grinned. "Be honest, you like that I'm unpredictable."

  "No, you're insane." I stuck out my tongue.

  "You know, you're not exactly Miss Innocent, Mel," he said, laughing. "It didn't take me too much to convince you to do the Kathy thing, the performance at the Dew Drop Inn ... this. You're a lot more adventurous than you think. You just needed the right person to bring it out of you."

  "I guess I wasn't born loony like you."

  Josh thought for a moment. "Believe it or not, I was pretty quiet as a kid," he admitted. "I almost never spoke in class."

  "Really? I kinda assumed you were the class clown." I tried to picture Josh as a kid, but couldn't.

  "Well, I wasn't. I was really shy. And truthfully, the only time I felt relaxed was when I was performing. Sometimes that's still the case," he said in a soft voice.

  "Are you acting now with me?" I asked.

  "Is that what you think, Mel?" He squeezed my hand. "I'm probably more myself with you than I am with anyone else."

  ###

  Finally, we were back in Manhattan. "So, where to?" Josh asked. "I planned everything this morning, so you should pick what we're doing for the rest of the day."

  I didn't even have to think about where I wanted to go. "The Met," I said. "It's my favorite museum."

  When we reached the steps leading up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I stood back for a moment and surveyed the imposing building. "It always gets me how big this place is," I told Josh. "It's like there's so much going on inside, I don't even know where to begin."

  But after looking over the
museum guide, we decided to visit the Egyptian exhibit. We wandered through room after room filled with artifacts and mummies, until we came to a full-sized reconstructed temple. "Man, that thing is thousands of years old," marveled Josh, as we stood in front of it. "Long after we're dead, this will probably still be standing."

  "It's spooky," I said. "I keep expecting to see the mummies get up and walk around."

  He put his arm around me. "Well, if any of them do, I promise I won't let them get you.”

  ###

  We took in as much of the Met as we could, visiting the Impressionist and Modern wings. We even got to see some of Dali and Magritte’s paintings. After, we walked through Central Park. It was only 3 o'clock, but the winter sky was already getting dark and a few snowflakes scattered to the ground. I wrapped my coat around myself.

  "Do you mind if we just sit here for a while?" Josh asked. "Unless it’s too cold for you."

  "I don’t mind at all," I said, following him to a bench that was under one of the bare trees. We sat in silence for a few minutes, watching people go by. Several couples crossed in front of us, arm in arm.

  "They should call this Lover's Lane," he said. "I swear, if I had a dime for every couple I've seen making out..."

  I looked out at the grassy expanse of the park, which looked peaceful even in the winter. I could definitely understand why someone would want to take a boyfriend or girlfriend here. "Why wouldn't couples come here?" I said. "It seems like a romantic place." I moved closer to him and hoped he'd put his arm around me again. He didn't.

  "Oh, this is nice, but it's hardly romantic," he said. "Romance is when you can make an ordinary place, like say, a supermarket, seem special. It takes no work here."

  "You mean like the subway?" I asked. I winced, fearing that I was pushing him for the reaction I wanted.

  "Exactly," he said, nodding. He didn't seem fazed by my question. "If you're creative, you can even turn a dungeon into a romantic spot. It's all in the delivery."

  I giggled. "Is that where you usually take your dates?"

  He smirked. "Not usually. Why? Is that where your dates take you?"

  "Ha, ha," I answered, but felt a chill sweep over me. From the way he was joking with me, it didn't seem as if he liked me as anything other than a close friend. He didn't even notice how upset I was. I was getting a bit sick of all these mixed signals. "So, where have guys taken you?" he was asking. He snapped his fingers in my face when I didn't answer. "Mel? You there?"