Prettyboy

24: New Jersey (Pt. I)

There used to be a cafe in Chelsea called 'The Turtles', and the owner of the store, Bob, was truly obsessed with the band of the same name at that time. It opened in '66, according to Bob, directly after he discovered and learned to worship the band and the ground it trod on. Rumor has it, The Turtles once went up to him and told him something he cannot recall today, because he instantaneously swooned at the sight of them. He's probably still mad at himself for fainting. 

Back then, however, the cafe & bar hid in an alley, squeezed between two very old buildings. Generally, it was almost always filled with elders who played cards and complained about today's music. Though, Bob would never turn the music down. After I had made a couple of appearances in '68, the cafe and bar began to attract a different kind of crowd. Or so Bob told me. Anyway, because it was so obscure in that alley, it became one of the few places I could get a coffee without interruptions. 

The song 'You Showed Me' by The Turtles played when Gerard, Oliver Key and I awkwardly sat together around a table there. 

Oliver was tapping his fingers underneath the table but still had a smile plastered on his face. That godforsaken smile had not abandoned him since the moment I said that thing about being blown away by his work. Gerard saw through me, however, it was clear. He was still disapprovingly staring at me.

Then, smiling Oliver Key made another attempt to break the silence and Gerard's piercing stare. "So. . . What kind of music do you like, Frank? Apart from Brenda Lee, I mean," he laughed and I frowned. He went on, downhearted at my confusion: "It was playing the other night at, um, The Scene. You were there? You said to me: 'She really meant it then. She was fifteen when she sang this'! Gerard didn't believe me but I saw you, didn't I? Didn't I tell you, Gerard?"

Gerard blinked at the mention of this. 

"Yeah. So, you go there often?" inquired Oliver.

"Not really, it was my first time there," said I, but when I thought about it more, I decided to announce: "Got spotted, too."

Gerard scoffed in derision. You could tell he was being derisive. Actually, the look he had on his face when he looked to me was indicative of his derision being an insisting element. He said: "Bet you're major trouble now, huh?"

I did not make an attempt to dispute that.

His friend frowned at him. "Gerard—hey, what're you sayin'?"

It must have been the first time the both of us met this kind of Gerard. The angered, spiteful Gerard. The other time I had seen him this frustrated was when his mother sent him out of the house. Now, that anger was comparable. But I am almost certain this kind of anger was never seen before in Gerard. I think he was beginning to realize this, too.

In bewilderment, Oliver Key suggested to get us something. 

He stood up. "What're you drinking, Frank? Gee? It's on me."

"I think it's more appropriate if Frank buys us beers, Oliver. He brought us here for a reason, after all. Isn't that right, Frank?"

"Actually—" Oliver was cut off.

"It was Oliver who suggested we go out for a drink but sure. It's always my pleasure. Here," I said and fumbled for my wallet, taking out some money and leaving it on the table. "I'll have a glass of whiskey."

"Fine," retorted Gerard, a bit disappointed by my perseverance. Oliver had been looking at him expectantly until Gerard had dismissed him by making known, "I won't be having anything."

After a moment of silence, and after Gerard had drawn out a sigh, Oliver took the money, leaving one buck on the table for the drink Gerard was not going to be having. He left to get us drinks, an obedient 'okay' leaving his lips.