Johnny and The USed Wonz

Johnny and The USed Wonz

  By DaNeo Duran

  Text copyright © 2013 DaNeo Duran

  All Rights Reserved

  To Beverley for always believing in me and to you for taking the time to read this story. I hope you enjoy it.

  Table of Contents:

  Johnny and The USed Wonz

  Acknowledgements and legal bits

  About the author

  Wichita, Kansas: Saturday 02nd June 1984

  The USed Wonz had plenty to feel confident about. Two months earlier the band’s Million Memories promo video had found its way into the countless American homes now subscribing to MTV. That had helped reactivate their debut album’s sales. With the video in heavy rotation the band hardly needed commercial radio stations’ help spreading their music.

  Currently midway through their second US tour, The USed Wonz now found their own gigs selling out along with the shows they opened for larger acts with larger crowds.

  But, backstage this Saturday night Johnny didn’t feel good. He felt caged.

  In a crate-sized dressing room his three bandmates sensed his anxiety. This close to show time he should be revving everyone up. Instead his mind bounced thoughts like pinballs; none of them hitting home.

  ‘What’s up Johnny?’ Stu asked.

  I’m screwed and so are all of you, he thought looking at the drummer’s knowing expression.

  ‘Nothing’s up, I’m fine,’ he said; like Stu would believe him.

  Nevertheless Stu, the trendiest band member turned back to the mirror and spiked his hair.

  Both orphaned girls, Christine and Mazz had witnessed the exchange and Johnny saw them stiffen. He glared at the back of Stu’s head with a frustration he’d not felt for his best friend since their vehement introduction years earlier.

  ‘I need some air,’ Johnny said checking the clock above the mirror and re-buttoning his silk shirt.

  He left the shabby dressing room and squelched in leather pants still not dry from their daily soaping. He left the cool of the venue’s backstage area and headed into Wichita’s heat, still radiating from the tarmac.

  Despite having lived in the States for eight months he still had to think which way to look before crossing roads.

  On South Webb Road, he found a pay phone and dialled an office number from memory.

  After three rings a woman’s voice came through America’s west coast lines. Only then did he realise how stressed he’d become.

  ‘Linda,’ he said flopping against the booth’s casing.

  * * *

  In her newly rented office Linda only half recognised the caller. ‘Johnny?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Can’t be, you’ve not asked what I’m wearing.’

  That didn’t actually surprise her. Things had been different between them since they’d returned from The USed Wonz’ video shoot in London months earlier.

  ‘I expected the answering machine. What you doing there?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s not so late this far west.’

  ‘Linda, it’s Saturday, you should be elsewhere enjoying yourself.’

  He had a point but she sat back and twirled a lock of chemically lightened hair whilst gratefully avoiding home. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I didn’t know who else to phone.’

  Never tiring of Johnny’s English accent, Linda rested her feet on the desk and her eyes on his Stetson. He’d left it in her old owner occupied office. When she sold it and moved into her rented office his hat came too.

  ‘You talk, I’ll listen,’ she told him.

  Johnny talked.

  Linda listened; then her eyes shot open.

  With feet back on the floor she sat forwards and slapped her hand into her desk. ‘What?’

  ‘I said—’

  ‘Never mind, I heard you.’

  She stood up, then sat down. Neither spoke. Linda’s mind raced.

  Her feet searched for her shoes under her desk. ‘I’ll sort it.’

  ‘What – you can’t.’

  ‘Which gig’s this one?’

  ‘Port of Wichita.’

  She pulled a drawer and opened a file. ‘Got it, Kansas City tomorrow right?’

  She faced the map of the States behind her and checked her watch. ‘It’ll take me at least until 2am your time to reach you.’

  ‘Linda, you know how I feel—’

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re about to say but I need you off the phone. I’ll meet you in your motel’s reception.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Johnny?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Have a good gig.’

  Alone in her office Linda screamed but without sincerity. Looking at the phone she pondered where to start knowing she shouldn’t be starting at all.

  She booked a Wichita flight then rang her apartment.

  ‘Hi Dwight, it’s me,’ she said surprised to get the answering machine. ‘Mom’s not well again. I’ll stay with her and see you tomorrow, okay?’

  She could have told the truth but choose to lie having not seen her boyfriend since their first proper argument the previous morning.

  Then she dialled her mother and apologised for not being able to visit that night.

  Two minutes later she buried her foot on the gas of her burgundy Lotus Esprit. The turbo-charged two-seater roared the airport’s thirty minute journey in twenty.

  * * *

  Having seen a group of girls outside the venue Johnny turned to avoid being recognised before stepping into the road. A blaring Cadillac horn soon saw him checking left and right properly.

  Minutes later back in the dressing room Christine asked, ‘Why d’you phone Linda?’

  Ignoring her Johnny unbuttoned his shirt and recomposed himself following the micro-mobbing he’d received after the Cadillac’s horn had blown his cover.

  Not having fathomed his feelings for Linda himself, he didn’t appreciate Christine exaggerating about her being old enough to be his mum no matter how well-meaning the intention. And he didn’t know why since their trip to London, Christine’s feelings towards their agent had downturned whilst his had gone stratospheric.

  He scowled at the twenty-three year old Christine but couldn’t blame her for his bad mood.

  Like Mazz, Christine wore a black figure hugging dress with heels. With the effort she made before gigs, Johnny found her as attractive as any woman he’d ever known. The same went for the eighteen year old Mazz who, since America re-raised its legal drinking age, pretended nightly to be twenty-one.

  While Johnny and the brawny but pretty-boy Stu brought masculinity to the stage, the girls gave their audiences something else to remember The USed Wonz by.

  ‘Are you going to answer the question?’ Christine asked in her adopted American accent.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why d’you phone Linda?’

  ‘I thought that was rhetorical.’

  The door swung open. Dane stuck his spherical head in the room. ‘Showtime guys; place is rammed.’

  Christine thanked their pudgy tour manger then to Johnny said, ‘Why?’

  ‘Look, I phoned Linda because I felt like it. Do I have to explain everything?’

  Dane sniffed and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Johnny, how many times, Linda is our agent and a thousand miles away? I am the manager. Any problems; bring them to me.’

  Weeks earlier much to Johnny’s annoyance, Christine had seen Howie, their last tour manager sacked. Johnny felt no warmth for their newly positioned manager. Competent in only the most trivial of matters, Dane had been an office jockey dumped on them against his will by their record company.

  As leader of the band Johnny snapped to it. ‘Let’s take the roof
off this place. Everyone out.’

  Christine knowing she’d already pressed too far turned her attention to Mazz giving her an encouraging hug.

  Dane retreated and the girls past Johnny who held the door.

  Finally Stu stood up from the counter he’d been leaning on. He walked but stopped in the doorway. With his face inches away he searched for clues in Johnny’s expression.

  ‘I know you too well,’ the drummer said gripping his shoulder with compassion.

  Johnny said nothing but followed him out to where his troubles evaporated in the heat of approaching cheers welcoming the USed girls to the stage. The nearing lights then silhouetted Stu’s lean frame.

  In the wings Jack, the guitar tech, handed Johnny his unique dark dusty-blue and grey Stratocaster. Johnny took it and felt a million bucks again.

  ‘Small in size massive in spirit,’ Jack said about the venue. Then about the guitar, ‘She’s good to go.’

  Striding on stage Johnny gave the strings a chop and received confirmation from his amplifier.

  ‘People of America,’ he declared into the mic whilst swigging cold tea from a Jack Daniels bottle, ‘thank you for welcoming us to Wichita.’

  The USed Wonz had enough UK and US experience to know what needed doing. If English audiences didn’t like you they might face front wearing miserably bored faces. In America they’d look happy enough but plain ignore bands who failed to grab them early. With singles, video and album, The USed Wonz had their feet under the table but Johnny didn’t take chances at the start of gigs in the country they hoped soon to call home. Everything had to please the rabble.

  ‘You guys invented Rock ‘n’ Roll,’ Johnny said. Stu’s drums kicked in from behind. ‘You gonna show us Brits how to make noise?’

  Long before they’d left England, Johnny wrote lyrics praising the US correctly trusting Americans would love it.

  Into the first song he sang, as usual making them wait for the guitar. When it came the proud Americans joined the whole band singing the chorus, Let’s get to the heart of this right now, You with us we are go, go, go.

  To his right, Johnny heard fumbled bass notes. The audience didn’t notice so he didn’t look over but knew Mazz would be kicking herself. He kicked himself too knowing his bad mood had stressed her into the mistake.

  At the back, now overly familiar with the songs Stu’s limbs automatically beat out rhythm after rhythm. Stu loved America and had been grateful when none of the band objected to starting the second US tour right off the back of their first. Linda had booked them into fresh towns, placing them into America’s seemingly endless supply of venues. But his mind had grown musically bored of their songs. He thanked God they’d be back in the studio soon working on new material – even if that meant temporarily returning to England.

  The few years he’d known Johnny had been intense. Of course, Johnny’s whole life had been intense. Stu believed only he understood Johnny’s stoicism but as songs passed he tried but couldn’t guess what had spooked his pal so badly.

  * * *

  Wichita had sent so much love on stage that back in the dressing room the band felt like their normal selves and wanted to hit the nearby bars.

  After the venue emptied of fans they mucked in with their punitive crew packing their equipment away.

  Shortly afterwards they jumped off the bus that dragged them town to town, state to state and headed into a bar where none of the middle-aged patrons cared to recognise them.

  Johnny gave the waitress their order whilst Dane prepared to pay.

  ‘It still amazes me how important we are to those who see us on stage and how irrelevant we are to everyone else,’ Mazz said.

  She wondered if that would still be true of Little Spirit over the Atlantic. She’d kept an eye on the UK charts so knew of Little Spirit’s extraordinary debut single achievement.

  Though The USed Wonz gigged tirelessly they’d chosen America, a far bigger animal than Britain to slay. So far they hadn’t made the same dent Little Spirit had in Britain.

  She looked at Christine who, having washed her face of makeup and hidden her curves beneath T-shirt and jeans looked but a memory of the voluptuous stage goddess she’d been earlier; holding chords and twisting knobs on her synths.

  Mazz herself had also stripped of the dress and heels that kept musos attention on her body and off her left hand. She never relaxed sensing people scrutinising her bass technique.

  Though Johnny looked good, only Stu maintained his impeccable image. Mazz figured it made sense nobody would pay them heed after their performance.

  ‘Go easy guys,’ Dane said, ‘Kansas is only three hours away but you’ve got radio interviews and I’ve booked a rehearsal.’

  ‘Right,’ Johnny said. ‘That’s good. I wanna try some new lyrics.’

  ‘What time we up?’ Christine asked.

  ‘Eight too early?’ Dane looked at Johnny.

  ‘Eight’s great,’ Johnny said. Then, thinking of Linda flying to see him added, ‘But you drinkers will have to drink twice as fast. Can’t stay out too long.’

  * * *

  Two hours later back in a cheap motel’s family room the ever sober Johnny readied the pull-out mattress whist Stu converted the lounge seats. The girls flopped into the double bed; a routine so well practiced it didn’t require discussion.

  Nearest the door Johnny put the light out lay and down to wait for Stu’s beer and the girls’ cocktails to send the band to sleep.

  He’d never normally encourage them to drink before, or after shows but tonight required an exception. Soon breathing patterns changed.

  Checking his watch around 2am Johnny crept out the room and pulled his jeans on in the corridor before heading to the lobby.

  The dozing night porter jumped at his arrival. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘It’s okay, I’m expecting someone. I’ll wait.’

  When the porter looked suspicious Johnny said, ‘It’s alright she’s a woman. I mean she’s a friend; she won’t be staying.’

  Johnny lay on the blue furniture that clashed with the grungy wooden floor and suddenly doubted Linda would show. The thought depressed yet focused him. He felt himself descending into a familiar sensation but, resting his head lost himself to sleep.

  * * *

  Sometime before 3am Linda found Johnny. He murmured and wrapped his hand around her fingers when she touched his shoulder.

  ‘You came,’ he said retrieving Tic Tacs from his pocket.

  ‘Of course.’

  She sat and resting his head in her lap looked down at the young man rubbing sleepy eyes. She stroked his blondy-brown hair whilst he chewed mints.

  ‘I’m extremely cross with you,’ she said. And then asked, ‘Are you smiling?’

  ‘You’re cross, but you came.’

  ‘I came because this isn’t just about you,’ she said with irritation but knew she would have anyway. ‘The USed Wonz are …’

  ‘What?’ Johnny said becoming more lucid.

  ‘I’m losing acts.’ She continued stroking his hair as his smile faded to concern. ‘I’m glad I moved to the smaller office but I can’t afford to have you guys go down.’

  Johnny sat up and fluffed his hair. ‘Hang on, if The USed Wonz are keeping you afloat how can you afford to bail us out?’

  ‘Because, I owned the other office. I bought it for a song years ago with money I inherited from my stepdad. It was too big and because its value rocketed I figured time to sell. I’ve still got the proceeds.’

  ‘Any money you give me you’ll get back plus expenses.’

  ‘I believe you,’ she said. But the statement hung as the pair looked at each other.

  ‘You’re wondering how I could lose so much money,’ he said. ‘Linda, I’m a damn good poker player. I know what’s what at the table and I know for damn sure I had the best hand.’

  She looked away. ‘Johnny.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When you turned the cards over the o
ther guy had the better hand.’

  ‘Not before the cards went over.’ His raised voice startled the porter.

  Linda smiled towards reception. The porter closed his eyes.

  ‘So you’re telling me you’ve never lost money?’

  ‘At the poker table? Of course but I know how to minimise losses. I never would have bet that much against someone like that unless I was sure I had the strongest hand.’

  ‘But it was still a gamble.’

  ‘Not when you know the odds. I even know about cheating. One of the first proper games I played was an elaborate scam.’

  Linda’s expression dropped. ‘I’m not impressed.’

  ‘Look, even if I misread the game, and I assure you I didn’t, the whole thing was a setup. The second the cards went over the door opened and in walked two heavies – right on cue.’

  ‘Sounds like rough justice but it’s senseless that you were gambling that sort of money.’

  ‘Yeah well, desperate times and that.’

  Linda knew she must look incredulous. ‘What are you on about, you’re doing great?’

  ‘Are we? You won’t want to hear this given you’ve just told me your companies losing acts but, Vanquar are shuffling bigwigs at the top. Apparently someone up for promotion doesn’t like us. Whispers in the corridors say if he gets the position he’ll cut the live feed.’

  ‘Stop you touring – why – how d’you know?’

  ‘Dane told me on the quiet.’

  ‘That’s crazy.’

  ‘Can’t escape the fact that every day with the bus costs money.’

  ‘Smaller gigs like tonight’s are brilliant earners.’

  ‘But Vanquar control the initial outlay and want their share of the returns before we get ours.’

  ‘And they’re getting them aren’t they – you’re still turning over plenty of money?’

  ‘Not compared to bigger bands, but we making some because there’s an album to promote.’

  ‘So what’s Vanquar’s problem?’

  ‘That this is the second US tour on that record. We need album two in order to justify carrying on.

  ‘But as far as Vanquar are concerned you’ll record album two the minute this tour’s over. They don’t know that GMD already advanced you its funding; and you blew the lot at the poker table.’ Linda stopped herself saying more.

  Johnny took a deep breath. ‘So GMD pay for album two, but Vanquar still have to fork out to market and distribute it. Without album two there’s no tour investment and no point anyway.’

  That didn’t explain why anyone at Vanquar would want The USed Wonz off their books. To lighten the mood Linda said, ‘We always knew GMD giving you the advance early was risky.’