Low dawn clouds glided over the city with the threat of snow tucked under their gray bellies and Johnny Darling laid his forehead against the chilled window glass to slacken the fever racing in his veins. After a few minutes he sat up straight in his bed without the hacking cough which had tormented him throughout the night. The struggle had taxed Johnny to the limit, but for the first time in days he was hungry and his hunger was craving for a slice of pepperoni pizza.
It was a long walk to Ray’s World Famous Pizza on 6th Avenue and he pulled on jeans, long-sleeved t-shirt, heavy boots, a sweater, and long leather coat as protection against the cold. As he searched for a missing glove, Sean entered into the room and fell on the bed. His facial bruises were black and blue, but the scars had hardened to scabs and Johnny asked, "How was it?"
"How was what?" Sean was guiltier about his night with Caroline Ames than taking off six ATMs this morning.
“Caroline.” It wasn’t any of his business.
”Fierce as wrestling with a lioness in heat.”
”The ice queen?” Johnny lifted his guitar. His glove had been hidden underneath along with his scarf.
“One and the same. I never saw it coming.” Caroline’s seduction had happened a little too fast and he questioned her real motive. His paranoia connected the sister to her brother ‘s affection for Tammi. They were using him and her and he vowed to switch the game on them.
"Sean, that girl had more meow than a kitten on catnip."
“So I found out.”
Johnny strummed a few bars from Neil Diamond's SWEET CAROLINE.
“But there’s no such animal as free sex.”
"Yeah, we all pay for it, right?” Sean wasn’t interested in a lecture from a junkie hustler about the wages of sex, even if he was on the money.
"I’m asking you to be a saint." Straights tended to turn sex into a complicated equation of wants and desires, but even his gay friends weren’t immune to confusing a fuck with THE LOVE STORY and this mutually shared great expectation was destroying the liberation of the sexual revolution. “Sean, we're in a rock band and rock musicians have sex. With groupies and girls you meet in the clubs. Just do everyone a favor and keep it out of Tammi’s face."
"Tammi left me."
"After you broke your word about getting high."
"Anti-drug advice is rich coming from you." Her confiding in Johnny was no surprise, for Tammi had few other choices for a big sister in this city.
"Maybe before, but I'm staying clean, so this band can play someplace better than a Chinatown chicken-bone palace." They would never convince other people that GTH was more important than drugs and sex, if they started fighting amongst themselves. “We have to respect each other.”
“Respect each other?” Neither holding Tammi nor smelling her skin was happening today, bed. "So you condone Tammi’s leaving with Charles?"
“How dare you accuse Tammi of being a whore after you spent the night with Caroline?" Johnny had heard the tales about Charles’ sister from the driver.
“Can’t I make a mistake?”
“Sure, but don’t expect me to congratulate you.” The ex-hippie’s falling victim to her appetite failed to excuse his hypocrisy.
“Thanks for the support.” Their partnership went only so deep, but Johnny was right about Caroline Ames being more Mary Magdalene than the Virgin Mary. “She's crazy."
"How so?"
Most men will boast about their sexual exploits as soon as they meet another male, however Sean feared that his words might work their way to Tammi. "Can't say?"
"Can't say or won't?"
"A little of both." Despite Caroline's wildness he preferred a night in Tammi’s arms.
"If we were at a hockey game in the Garden, the entire section would have heard about your fucking Caroline.” Johnny was actually glad to have been spare the play-by-play description of heterosexual breeding habits. "She say anything about the band?"
“She liked us. Said she hadn’t heard anything like us.”
“Anyone could say that.”
“I wouldn’t say that she trusts us.”
"People of her class mistrust anyone with less than ten million dollars in the bank and they certainly don’t fall in love with the help.”
"Who mentioned anything about love?” Sean had told three people that he had loved them; Cheri, a divorcee from his father's office and a teenage girl from a Brahmin family on Beacon Hill. Cheri was in Paris, the divorcee had slept with him to avenge his father’s refusal to do so and the teenager had run off for a second-story thief from Jamaica Plain. It was too late to find out, if Tammi might have been his one opportunity for the real thing.
"Glad you understand your situation." Johnny yearned for the love of a straight man, even though this sentiment might never be reciprocated other than on a platonic level. Still there was more to this life than love and one of them was staying out of prison.
"Listen, we have a problem."
"How so?"
"Frankie was questioned by a cop." Johnny emphasized the final word.
"Shit." Sean had fooled himself into believing that the police were too busy to bother with such a small hits.
"You tell anyone about this?” Johnny fought off a flashing chill. “Tammi?"
"No, I told nobody anything." No matter if they never spoke again, he trusted Tammi to not say anything about the ATM thefts. With $300 sitting in six separate accounts Sean’s share totaled over $4000. “They haven’t the manpower to cover all the ATMs in the city in the present economic climate.”
“Robbing banks is a Federal offense.” Johnny was worried that Sean’s reckless determination might violate his code against greed. “Minimum five years hard time.”
Neither the promise of $5000 in the bank nor $6500 he had reaped from his crime spree had prevented Tammi’s departure. His Irish grandmother had asserted if you lost a possession, then it wasn’t really yours. The old lady from Galway had rarely been wrong.
“I’ll close my accounts tomorrow in Wall Street.”
“I’ll do the same Midtown.” Neither of them had worked those banks and Johnny was relieved by Sean’s understanding that the cops had the previous banks under surveillance. He was a good partner. “Any more isn’t worth the risk. Hell, we might make it at CBGBs.”
"Will we be ready?" Performing in front of the crowd frightened him almost as much as the police.
"We'll knock ‘em dead."
"I hope so." Sean stepped back involuntarily, spying the sores on Johnny’s neck. "Are you all right?"
“Quitting dope is harder than I imagined." Johnny lied about the true state of his condition.
“Is it rock and roll, if there's no drugs?" Sean joked and Johnny answered with deadly seriousness, "Frankie can cover that end for all of us."
“And I’ll stick to beer and booze.”
“Me, my music.” Johnny got up from bed.
“Where you going?" Sean went to the door.
“For a slice of pizza and then listen to music, till the sun goes down. You can join me, if you'd want."
"I'll grab my bass." If Tammi wasn’t here, Johnny was the next best substitute. They were friends and friendship was more important than love and success, especially if you didn’t play it safe with either.
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