Johnny and The USed Wonz

by DaNeo Duran

  ‘Go,’ Johnny said.

  The lads slid down the roof dropping onto the bins below. Stu slung his bag over his shoulder and took off away from the door.

  Johnny’s voice yelled.

  Snatching a look over his shoulder Stu saw Johnny sprinting away from him towards the door. ‘What the hell?’

  With no clue why, he pounded after Johnny rounding the corner.

  Stu followed seeing Johnny pulling the shutter doors closed.

  ‘Tie them,’ Johnny shouted.

  Stu danced on the spot.

  ‘The rope.’

  As the doors rattled from within Stu dropped his bag spying a pile of discarded banding tape in a skip.

  Within seconds he’d knotted clumps of it round the handles.

  ‘That’ll do. Let’s split,’ Johnny said admiring Stu’s tangled handiwork before the pair sprinted back towards home.

  Safely amongst the streets they ran out of energy but couldn’t stop laughing.

  ‘That definitely made it worthwhile,’ Stu said. ‘D’you reckon he’ll be out yet?’

  ‘It’s a workshop, he’ll have pushed a saw between the doors and hacked through the bands.’

  Back at the house Stu suggested they suspend the guitar’s body from the backyard’s washing line.

  ‘You’re not doing it now are you?’ Johnny asked.

  ‘First coat; no time like the present.’

  Monday 11th June 1984

  Bending at the waist Linda locked her Lotus knowing she’d attracted attention from the men in the ground floor office below hers.

  Along with handbag she dragged a holdall from the passenger seat before heading up to her empty office. Fiona’s new hours meant she wouldn’t arrive for two hours.

  Dumping the holdall on her desk she grabbed the ringing phone.

  ‘Lake: All Stars Entertainment Agency, Linda—’

  ‘Linda, good news.’

  She recognised Johnny’s voice sounding chirpier than it had done recently.

  Johnny said he’d left a message the day before but wanted to explain Dane’s T-shirt selling plan.

  Strangely Linda found herself feeling happiest for him. He hoped to return half her money by July but that hardly mattered given how much her business needed new acts.

  She thanked him but had decided over the weekend that money should be valued by fluid income not static savings.

  ‘You don’t sound so good,’ he said.

  ‘I’m happy to hear from you Johnny, it’s just since we met in Wichita, Fiona drummed up several new acts all of which have bailed and gone with other agents.’

  If Johnny didn’t know what to say it didn’t stop him talking and forty minutes passed before he rang off.

  Linda smiled to herself looking forward to seeing him and the others soon despite the dourness of the history he’d just shared with her.

  Standing to make for the bathroom she turned coming face to face with Fiona.

  ‘Wow,’ Fiona said stepping back. ‘You look …’

  ‘I know.’ Linda looked down.

  ‘You don’t know what I was going to say.’

  ‘Slutty?’

  ‘Stunning.’

  ‘But you thought slutty, I saw the look in your face.’

  ‘Only for a second. You after a new man?’

  Linda looked back at her. ‘How come you’re in so early?’

  Fiona ignored the question. Her expression instead turned to wonderment. ‘Did you have a rendezvous right here; did I miss it?’

  ‘You missed Johnny – on the phone.’

  ‘If he could’ve seen down the phone his eyes would’ve popped.’ Fiona looked her up and down. ‘So, d’you want me out the way?’

  ‘It’s fine, I’m not meeting anyone. Why are you early?’

  Fiona headed to her desk. ‘The office is between my boyfriend’s and home. It didn’t seem worth going home first. You don’t have to pay me.’

  ‘Okay you can mind the phone. I’ll be right back.’

  In the bathroom Linda slipped out the micro dress her ex-boyfriend Earl never allowed her to wear. Taking clothes from the holdall she dressed more conservatively and washed her face.

  ‘So,’ Fiona said when Linda returned, ‘You haven’t just been with someone, you’ve got changed so you’re not planning to. I’m guessing you stayed out last night.’

  Linda sighed. ‘You’re wrong.’

  ‘Been stood up?’

  ‘If you must know I was playing games with Dwight.’

  ‘Ooh, what kind?’ Fiona positioned herself to listen.

  ‘Not fun ones. Childish power games.’

  ‘My mom says if you want to do that you have to be prepared to lose; consider the worst case if they backfire.’

  ‘Sounds wise. Anyway I have considered the consequences, and am prepared to lose.’

  ‘So what was the game?’

  ‘An experiment I suppose.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve had a change of heart about Dwight recently.’

  ‘He’s not the one?’

  Linda shook her head. ‘He’s not weird but there’s definitely something weird going on between us.’

  Linda didn’t mention her anger following Dwight’s fishing trip but did say she’d been feeling fearful of him.

  ‘Sounds like you don’t like him.’

  ‘Everything about him seems right on paper but …’

  ‘You don’t like him.’

  ‘I called him Earl yesterday.’

  ‘You called him by your ex’s name, why?’

  ‘To see how he’d react. I’ve compared him to Earl before.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He got cross. Said, how could I mistake him for Earl after the slagging I’d given him when we met.’

  ‘And you deduced?’

  ‘I claimed it was a slip of the tongue but he was clutching my shoulders so I was listening to him say one thing whilst he acted just like Earl.’

  ‘You need to break this habit Boss. You think you know what you want but you’re wrong. You keep choosing the same violent slobs every time.’

  Linda didn’t appreciate the slight on her choice of man despite having had similar thoughts a week earlier.

  Her annoyance must have shown as Fiona apologised.

  ‘D’you want to tell me why you got dressed up?’

  ‘Maybe another time,’ Linda said turning to her work. She knew it’d sound daft anyway.

  At lunchtime they left the office together; things still seeming frosty. On their way back Linda thawed the ice, LA’s sunshine couldn’t melt.

  ‘Okay, I dressed up this morning to see Dwight’s reaction.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Fiona spoke for the first time in minutes, ‘I can imagine it.’

  ‘You reckon? You seem to think I keep choosing the same man; Earl would have freaked before letting me out his sight dressed like that.’

  ‘There was plenty of thigh on show; much more gym toned than mine of course.’

  ‘Well Dwight didn’t react at all.’

  ‘What? You sure he saw you?’

  ‘He was in bed talking rubbish to me. He saw every step of the act.’

  Fiona seemed thoughtful.

  ‘What you thinking?’ Linda asked.

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘You think I want my cake and eat it.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well if I was unhappy with a bully who was terrified of seeing me dressed up I should be happy now I’ve a man who’ll let me dress any which way.’

  ‘That’s not what I was thinking.’

  ‘Okay, what would your boyfriend do if you left the house like that?’

  ‘That’s what I’m wondering. I guess he’d tell me how good I looked.’

  ‘He wouldn’t think you were looking for attention off other men?’

  ‘Maybe. He’d want to know why I was dressed like that if we weren’t going out together but he wouldn’
t stop me. I’m sorry Linda but when I saw you this morning I nearly jumped you myself. Dwight must be blind not to notice.’

  ‘He’s not blind.’

  ‘Then he doesn’t care.’ Fiona slapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry Boss.’

  ‘It’s okay. Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Well you should know him enough by now, does he care?’

  No, Linda thought as they reached the office door. ‘Back to work,’ she said pointedly.

  ‘Imagine how Johnny would’ve reacted if he’d seen you this morning.’

  I have. ’Time to get back to work.’

  ‘No problem,’ Fiona said lifting something off her desk.

  ‘What’s that?’ she said when Fiona got in her way.

  ‘Our duplicate of the Warner invoice you just posted.’

  ‘Okay.’ Linda allowed her access to the filing cabinet and watched her slot the document correctly before returning to her own desk.

  Linda thought back to her conversation with Johnny earlier in the day. Besides her rejection of him she’d never seen him seriously unhappy about anything. Even in Wichita he resigned himself to fate but kept afloat. But on his call to her earlier that day she’d learned that even he couldn’t always avoid depression.

  Sunday 15th March 1981

  Stirring Johnny forced himself awake one day off weeks after beginning his poker tuition.

  He groaned.

  Geoff had told him mastering poker might take longer than first anticipated. Johnny initially hadn’t minded as he began enjoying the games. But Geoff quibbled about everything insisting Johnny practice shuffling, dealing and turning cards in order to look more natural.

  Every inch they progressed Geoff would upset the cart, causing him to feel like a beginner again. Geoff would reach into his mind seeming to know the strength of his hand.

  ‘I’ll feed you what I know of Leonard’s cards,’ Geoff had said, ‘but you need to know how I’m doing this. Can you see the signal I’m sending now?’

  Johnny had looked but couldn’t detect Geoff transmitting any signal.

  ‘My left hand cups my right – the one holding the cards. That will come to mean something to us yet nothing to anyone else provided you don’t look at the hand signs directly. If I suspect Leonard or any other player is on to us I’ll do this.’ He crossed his left thumb over his right. ‘Crossed thumbs means abort.’

  Rolling out of bed Johnny lifted the unfinished body of his Strat searching for signs of hope.

  ‘I’m feeling pretty low here. Everything’s taking so long I’m doubting anything will ever change – even you.’

  The body now triple layered with basecoat still required its glossy topcoat. Stu had waited days between applications.

  ‘Come alive,’ Johnny said to the guitar’s body. Perhaps the guitar said it would but its magnificence couldn’t be imagined in its currently dismantled state.

  Not just the guitar but everything seemed to be in pieces; poker hadn’t come together, his repayments to Geoff had only just begun and the band had had a weekend of terrible gigs where they’d lost the audience and each other.

  Despite believing in the band’s ever-growing rightness he couldn’t understand how they could rehearse so much and still have bad gigs. Even potentially good news seemed bad.

  Mazz had work experience from school at the end of March. She’d told her school she either wanted to be a professional musician or failing that, work for a record company. Reckoning she’d get a placement in a record company she planned to take a demo tape along.

  Johnny and Stu had cringed. Though a great opportunity the old demo didn’t even feature Christine and Mazz. The hope of sharing recording sessions in January with Graham’s band had passed with one excuse following another; not least Johnny’s own not wanting to invest in demos without the new Strat ready for action.

  Stu had found Christine an ideal market job helping a lady called Margaret who had a second-hand record stall. But that wouldn’t help the demo as she’d surely have to find a new place to live. It would take ages for her to save a decent contribution. Try as he might Johnny couldn’t see how they could record anything other than a cheap rushed demo before Mazz’s work experience.

  That Sunday morning Johnny peered at passing grey sleet from his attic window before slumping back on his bed. Not wanting to suffer another British winter he, like Stu, still yearned for the sunshine of America’s southern states.

  He left the house dressed for the cold whilst begrudging poker and his arrangement with Geoff. Preferring to stay back to apply the Strat’s finishing coat he blamed poker for everything wrong in his life.

  At the office, Geoff reiterated that physiological responses exposed cards. Johnny knew that to be true. Weak hands caused his nose or face to itch. Strong hands triggered deeper breathing. He’d tried ignoring itches or slumping instead of breathing rapidly but somehow Geoff had always spotted the truth.

  With the day’s first game underway Johnny cared less about his responses as the preoccupation of the previous night’s gig rankled him. His downturned mood resurrected memories of the day Frank died. Watching the triviality of his cards with one half-closed eye Johnny tuned out the room. As the blood in his arms and face drained he allowed the sensations to deepen and only saw the cards coming and going. He heard nothing but the sense of his mother’s voice.

  A dopey euphoria took hold. For the first time Geoff hardly spoke. Through heavy lidded eyes he saw Geoff’s expression darkening and wondered whether Geoff had dropped his poker face or dreamt up another bluff. Maybe it didn’t matter. Johnny kept playing his moves and smiled a smile that didn’t register on his face as a thought came with the sound of his mother’s voice.

  ‘I fold,’ Geoff said. ‘What have you got?’

  Johnny showed his modest hand.

  Geoff nodded. ‘Two pairs. I never could have guessed.’

  Johnny blinked and stretched. Rivers of blood returned to his veins as his circulation restarted.

  ‘You played like a machine,’ Geoff said. ‘What did you do, take drugs?’

  ‘I just relaxed,’ Johnny said knowing he hadn’t cared less.

  ‘Could you do it again, in a live situation?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘You free this Wednesday?’

  ‘Can be.’

  Johnny walked home in dryer weather to find Stu in a gasmask.

  ‘Aright mate,’ he said. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t mind but I went into your room; topcoat’s done.’

  Thursday 19th March 1981

  Johnny sat in his room with Stu on their day off.

  ‘Nearly done,’ Stu said examining the body’s clear lacquer, ‘but for one last bit of hard work.’

  To Johnny the finish looked rough but shinier than he could have hoped for.

  ‘We need to get rid of these bubbles,’ Stu said taking the finest grade watered sandpaper and scrubbing the body with it.

  ‘What you doing?’ Johnny said aghast as the shine vanished into clouds of scratches. ‘Are you nuts?’

  ‘It’s okay, we need it looking like this all over.’

  ‘It looks grey?’

  ‘So make it grey all over. Don’t worry I know what I’m doing.’

  Johnny relented and after they’d sanded the topcoat to an opaque but uniform finish Stu said, ‘We haven’t got a machine so we’ll have to buff it by hand. It’ll take ages and we’ll ache afterwards.’

  After covering the carpet with sanded dust Stu smeared Meguiar’s Cut and Shine over the Strat’s body. Getting his shoulder behind the stolen sponges he polished part of the body before handing over to Johnny.

  ‘The shine’s coming back,’ Johnny said rubbing.

  ‘Right, but remember we have to do this another three times.’

  Sitting back Stu asked how he’d got on at poker the previous night.

  ‘Good. Geoff wasn’t there though.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘I had to find my own wa
y. Geoff introduced me to one of the other Wednesday players beforehand, pretending he didn’t know I played. I had to bring the subject up. Then Geoff said he couldn’t play and suggested I took his place.’

  ‘He’s taking it seriously. So what about the game?’

  ‘Miles better playing it for real. It was more relaxed after the guys round the table got over me not drinking or smoking.’

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Nah, they soon forgot about it.’

  ‘Did you win anything?’

  ‘Yeah actually. Seems the less I care the more I win; lost a bit too mind you.’

  ‘Your own money?’

  ‘Yup, I’m only using Geoff’s money on the main night. When I saw Geoff afterwards he reckons I should take more risks.’

  ‘Easy for him to say when it’s not his money.’

  ‘I hope it’ll be okay on the night when it is.’

  ‘And what happens if you lose; I mean in the unlikely event?’

  ‘I’ve nothing to worry about as long as I follow his hand signals correctly.’

  ‘Better be clear on them then.’

  ‘As clear as this topcoat,’ Johnny said admiring his work.

  ‘It’s coming together,’ Stu said taking a turn from him.

  ‘I’ve not rubbed a body still warm from your touch since Veronica.’

  ‘Oh mate,’ Johnny said laughing. ‘I’d thought along the same lines.’

  ‘Maybe you should name the guitar after her,’ Stu said. ‘Mind you, Veronica didn’t curve like this though.’

  By 11pm Johnny sat alone taking a last look at the four times polished body. Every cell in his body rejoiced as the gleaming but dusty dark blue wood communicated its readiness.

  Friday 20th March 1981

  Having resisted the urge to nip back on lunch Johnny dashed home after work and began reassembling the Strat.

  He removed the protective tape from the body’s screw holes and shoulder. Taking a deep breath he slid the neck snugly into the body before fitting each hole with the same screw that’d originally occupied it. With gentle screw turns he reunited neck and body.

  Stepping back the instrument radiated an iridescence willing him on.

  In his imagination he’d rebuilt the Stratocaster so many times the pieces seemed to fall into place automatically.

  Time stood still as Johnny held his breath touching dew-droplets of solder to the pickup’s wires.

  Then he fitted the pick-guard and pickup screws. He felt almost dizzy driving home the strap pins.

  With a new strap bought from Nate’s shop he wore the guitar and tuned up with fresh strings.