reading our table, which had pairs like “Danny + Debbie,” “Robert and Lisa Forever,” and “Maxwell and Ruby” scrawled on it.
“Probably not,” I said. “Actually, you gave me an idea.” I added question marks next to every set of couples’ names.
“Cynic,” Joe said with a grin. “You probably cursed them all.”
The waiter’s entire presence suggested he was massively bored and thought he was too cool to be serving us. His flat tone only lifted to ask in a singsong way, “What will you two be having?” like we were a couple. I leaned away from Joe.
“I love coming to the city,” Joe said as we waited for our food. “It sounds dorky, but I always feel like it kind of wakes me up that there’s more to life than Powell Park.”
“God, I hope there is,” I said. It was a new hope, though. I’d never necessarily loved Powell Park, but I’d never felt like it was small, either, and lately, maybe since soccer, or the game in Wisconsin, I’d been thinking about traveling, and even contemplating a visit to Tonia in L.A., once I decided to forgive her. I didn’t bring her up, though, not wanting to wow Joe with tales of my wild older sister that would make me seem boring by comparison. Instead, I told Joe about the trip to the city with Mom and Tina and Candace.
“Your mom sounds cool,” he said. “What’s your dad like?”
“Dad-like,” I said. He smiled but didn’t say anything. “He’s okay.” I went on to talk about Mom’s self-improvement and how my dad didn’t seem any different, except for the new wife thing.
“I never met anyone whose parents had a peaceful divorce, though,” Joe said. “So maybe he’s cooler than you’re giving him credit for.”
“Maybe,” I said, wondering if I should tell him that my dad’s most prized collection was a folder of small appliance warranties. “What are your parents like?”
“Normal, nice, sometimes trying too hard to understand my music,” Joe said. “They’re meeting us at the show.”
“Really?” I asked. I tried not to look too floored by this, but why would his parents come?
He shook his head and his smile showed all of his perfect teeth. “The expression on your face was terrified,” he said. “Nah. They’re supportive of the punk thing as long as I’m only a Powell Park punk. I think O’Banion’s would worry them. Which is half the point.”
Our food came and we dove in. When there was one slice left, Joe urged me to take it. I was full but it was so delicious that I did.
We took the L from the restaurant to a few blocks from O’Banion’s. “So how’d you hear about the show tonight?” I asked. I never had any idea what was going on in the city.
“My cousin Artie took me here last summer,” he said. “And this is embarrassing, but honestly, I heard about the show because I keep calling the place to try to get them to give us a gig.”
“I should have worn a Watergate Tapes shirt and told them you’re my favorite band.”
“You haven’t heard us play,” he said, but he smiled like he liked the idea.
O’Banion’s was a shithole. On the outside, it was a scary shithole that looked distinctly unloved. On the inside, though, it was more of a friendly shithole. As Joe led me in, a tall black woman in green sequins and a yellow-blond wig stopped us. “Joey,” she said in a deep voice. “You here for Tutu?”
“Hey, Twinkle, yeah, definitely here for Tutu,” Joe said. “This is my friend Susan.”
“Susan,” Twinkle said, extending her hand. “You’ve got a cute little figure, don’t you?”
“. . . I don’t know,” I said, looking down at my T-shirt and jeans. I’d abandoned the Sportmart plan after running into Bobby. “I guess.”
“You do, sweetie,” she said. “Joe, be good to this one.”
Being called “this one” bothered me, but Joe actually blushed as Twinkle sashayed away. “Is Twinkle a drag queen?” I asked him.
“Yeah, O’Banion’s is a gay and drag bar during the day, and then it crosses over to punk at night, but some of the drag queens like punk. Twinkle is a great crowd surfer.”
O’Banion’s was noisy and packed and there was no stage. People just gathered on the floor in front of the band. As we walked deeper into the space, I couldn’t hear Joe as well over the music, but we got closer to the band by Joe expertly weaving through the jumping crowd.
“Is that